I am still perplexed, usuriously bewildered. I don’t necessarily understand but have reconciled with the fact that each of us is different and unique, and entitled to our own opinions. If I knew then what I know today, perhaps, I would have nicely asked my brief and atypical friend a few questions.

I was leisurely gliding through the booths two years ago, while attending Coconut Grove Arts festival, this is one of the biggest art festival in Miami and perhaps, in the country besides the Art Basel, when I heard this irrefutable squeak irritating voice.

I knew it from the back of my head. It reminded me of my parrot Jackie. I don’t really own a bird but for the purpose of this story, let’s pretend I have one.

I didn’t immediately jump to her graces like one mad fan because I didn’t want to intrude neither come across like one round the bend loony. I believe celebrities too need their time in the sun; they need to be left alone; they are after all humans just like any of us; so, if they are out grocery shopping, I don’t really need to know what they  have in their shopping bag; if is bacon or bathroom tissue.

I am not an admirer. I used to watch her regularly on SNL and even though, she is an F-lister, I was nevertheless animated to spot a celebrity.

I danced in circles like a dog attempting to bite off his own tail. I was flying high as if I had won the lottery. Not!

I composed myself long enough pretending to be interested in the next booth merchandise, so to confirm I had the right person. Coy and dispirited, however, I quietly walked away. I have seen celebrities and can understand why people go gaga over a famous person. Perhaps, she was relieved that she was not interrupted and I for not having created a scene and made a full of myself. God, I can only image me making the six o’clock news over a washed up comedian.

She hasn’t done anything of artistic value lately, like a comedy tour or TV show. Last I saw her, she was on Celebrity Fit Club on VHI and that was it. So, I can’t understand why I was so bend on talking to her. Nevertheless, I was ecstatic. I guess I was just happy to have spotted a celebrity.

I moved through to other booths. I got to the end of the aisle and was on my back when I heard The Voice once again. I thought she was long gone by then. Perhaps, she was stalking me and not the other way around. This time, I was not ready to let her go; I was determined to meet her.

I stopped by the booth where she was and I acted as if I was checking the merchandise and was able to verify that it was indeed her. Amassing enough courage, I approached her as she was walking away.

“Are you Victoria Jackson?”, I asked.

“Yes I am”, she said.

“I heard the voice and thought it was you but did not want to intrude.”

“That’s alright”, she said. “You are not interrupting.” Her response alleviated my nerves putting me at ease.

We began chatting while walking down the 1/2-mile stretch of the road back to our cars. Side-by-side conversing like two old pals, talking about art while I tiptoed with my line of questions.

We got to the place where we left our cars to learn that coincidentally we parked at the same location, at a lady’s front yard and separated only by two cars.

During our mini excursion, I learned that she was born and raised in Miami. Her father ran a gymnastic school. She moved back to the area after Saturday Night Live to marry a local policeman with whom she has two kids. Traveling around for comedic gigs suddenly became a piss as she was trying to juggle the family life and career; so, she decided to stop working to raise her kids. As she put it, she didn’t want her kids to be raised by “someone else”. She needed to see them grow up, be a part of their lives instead of “running around the country chasing the almighty dollar”, she said. She had the choice as I see it, and she made it and does not regret it one bit. These were her reasons and I am glad she could choose.

I brought up the Celebrity Fit Club on VHI throughout the exchange and wanted to know the experience was like. She told me that she had no issue with the producers flying her out there – Los Angeles – to lose weight and get paid for it. She was always up to it; the ever capitalist. Her statements now make a lot sense.

She enjoyed her time on the show, she said. It was fun and attested that all the drama we saw on TV was real; it actually happened. We talked about her career, her kids, her husband. I wanted to know what possessed her to marry a cup instead of an individual in the entertainment business. The response was never fully answered but I was satisfied and did not press her for more. True to form, after all that talk and I got into my car without ever asking her for an autograph or a picture. Not because I did not want to but because I simply forgot. How would I then be able to prove that I actually met Victoria?

I was disappointed I must confess. I drove straight home and let everyone know that I had just saw Victoria Jackson. “Vitoria who”? That seemed to have been the consensus reaction.

For me, she was just the lady I saw on the street, a person I struck a conversation with and not a celebrity. Someone I enjoyed chitchatting with for a few minutes and that was it. It was not until this past election, however, that I suddenly realized that not having her picture or autograph was not so bad after all.

I learned of Victoria Jackson the politician and the need to detach the individual from his or her politics became evident. I was no longer enchanted but disillusioned. I was like huh?! “How do you call a blonde who has lost 90% of her marbles?”

Most recently, she appeared in an array of talk shows, specifically the FoxNews Network, spewing some dumbfounded maniac ideas that made me think that perhaps, I was better off not having her as a “friend” and her picture, not worth a dime.

I was not in the prowl to judge her but was immediately turned off. How can a person be so scary, scanning and downright in the dark? Ok, let’s call it what it is, plain stupid.  As she so eloquently stated, “My motivation is gone, because [Obama] will punish me if I’m successful. That’s how you start communism, is just take — Cuba. Obama wants to be Castro.”??? “Well, I’ve never been involved in politics. ‘Cuz it’s just neh neh neh, neh neh neh. But all of a sudden it was, it was: Oh, Hillary Clinton is a socialist, she wants to socialize medicine. Well, I’ll have to vote against her.”

Did she really believe that the President of the United States is communist and he is really coming after her money? What, does she have any left? What a goofball, but wait, there is more, “And then all of a sudden a communist appears! Out of nowhere! And that’s when I started to get involved. So I did research. Uh, black liberation theology, his church, is Marxist. And his professors are Marxist. Redistribute the wealth”

Not to be undone, she has elevated to the blogosphere world by posting a blog recently entitled “Down is Up, Unfair is Fair and Ignorance is Bliss” on Andrew Breitbart’s website that made me think that Hollywood is perhaps, one crazy community. When they point the fingers at the Hollywood types, are they perhaps referring to her and her types or Clooney, Jolie, Pitt and many others who do outstanding work with the poor and the needy? http://bighollywood.breitbart.com/vjackson/2009/07/07/ignorance-is-bliss/#more-178482

I particularly enjoy the part where she states, ““You know, I’ve been speaking at Tea Parties lately.  No one seems to know or care that our country just turned Socialist.” She continues, “I continued, “It’s called ‘late-term abortion’.  Now he’s going to kill sick people and old people.  Did you know that Cap & Trade will allow the government to regulate how long we take a shower?  And that the “New Health Plan”, happy, happy, will allow the government to decide who lives and who dies?””

Bravo! Let’s clap! Am I entitled to think or call her ignorant? Perhaps but she is also entitled to her opinion. Should I then categorize or call anyone who believes this country is heading to communism or this President is communist, stupid? Perhaps, I am also entitled to my opinion.