Free at Last

And I don’t mean African-Americans. I mean white Liberals. Free of guilt. Now you can breathe easy. You’ve paid your debt for slavery and all the other subsequent mistreatments. Well, folks, I hope Barack Obama is all you think he is and not at all what I’m afraid he is. You’ll be the ones who have to watch him, you know. The congress is on his side. The press is on his side. There’s nobody to report out. I’m going to retire from commenting and leave it all up to you. Hell, I’ve got other things to do than document the damage: inferior health care for all, the disappearance of jobs, dwindling revenues as capital leaves … Maybe I’ll disguise myself as a woman and write a novel. I want to thank you all for sticking with me. I know from your e-mails that it hasn’t been easy. But it has been fun. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me.

HH

Hidin’ Biden

“Mark my words, it will not be six months before the world tests Barack Obama like they did John Kennedy. The world is looking. We’re about to elect a brilliant 47-year-old senator president of the United States of America. Remember I said it standing here . . . we’re gonna have an international crisis, a generated crisis, to test the mettle of this guy.”

So, what did they do to him, do you think, when they whisked him away after he warned us? I saw Obama today, but I’m Tivoed, so I don’t know when this happened. Obama stood up there and explained Biden, who was nowhere in sight. Do you know that when Biden said that if we elect Barack Obama, we will be tested, what he actually said was that the next president, no matter who he is, will be tested? Oh, you didn’t know that? Gee, sounds almost the same as what you thought you heard. Well heck! That must be it. Makes a lot more sense.

Except that’s not what he said. Potential president-elects and their veeps get briefings by the White House. They’re privy to knowledge that none of the rest of us are. One of these poor buggers is going to have to run the show. McCain doesn’t even look like he wants to anymore. This is way out of his territory. It wouldn’t be if he’d remained pure, but he bollixed himself up with notions from the other party, and now, when he goes to look for answers to questions, he’s got to reach into this mixed-up bin and pull something out. He never knows what it’s going to be.

But let’s see. Are they going to test McCain? Would you? That crazy old “Bomb, bomb Iran” guy? You’d have to be nuts. No, they’re going to test the man of peace. They’ve got to find out where he draws the line.

“He's going to need help. And the kind of help he's going to need is he's going to need you, not financially, we're going to need you to use your influence, your influence in the community to stand with him, because it's not going to be apparent initially, it's not going to be apparent that we're right.”

But what did Biden mean when he said, going on with his gaffe, that what they do will not necessarily look right, and Obama is going to need your support. He wants you to go out there anyway, and convince the rest of us it’s a good idea, just because it’s his, and he’s yours.

But back to Biden. Why did he do it? There could be a bigger frame around this than it even appears.

“And they’re going to find out this guy’s got steel in his spine.”

It could be he and Obama have cooked it up together to warn the rest of the world that Obama’s got his dukes up, and to prepare those of you who don’t like fights, that it’s coming, so you can shut your eyes. Hell, Bush only said, “Bring it on.” A vote for Obama is a vote to bring it on.

But it’s more likely that Biden went to that National Security Briefing and his hair stood on end when he heard the latest dribble down the drainpipe. He decided he had to do something about it. Warn us. The best thing to hide behind is this notion of his “gaffes”. Do you know what a “gaffe” is, people? It’s a way of saying something, and saying you don’t mean it at the same time. It’s playing the jester. Jesters had brains, you know. They had opinions about their kings. And they knew things.

Biden warned us. Did you hear him? He said, “Don’t vote for my guy unless you want to be attacked.” Didn’t he? Didn’t he say that? What do you think he said? “Vote for my guy if you want to be attacked.”? Is that what you heard, but it’s all right with you?

And you know what? He had to say it twice, because the media caught on right away to what was going on. The Gaffe! The Gaffe! It’s finally come. It could undo Obama. So they tried not to report it. The first time, they just let it go. Then the pressure mounted. After all, it was a public statement; people heard it. They’re reporters. They’d better report.

And now, YOU are going to be tested :

Name one thing you do not like about Barack Obama.

If you could not do this, I submit that you are under a spell. There is nothing that will make you deny Obama, no matter how you have to twist and turn.

But there are still a lot of you out there who don’t have masters on your backs. You get a glimmer now and then that things aren’t right, that your world is being taken over. Let that glimmer grow, folks.

Listen to Joe, if they still let you. Your Joe, not McCain’s Joe. Joe leaked a big one. Maybe there’s more coming. Keep your ear to the pipe. I’m rooting for you Joe – America’s infiltrator. You always wanted to be CIA, didn’t you, Joe?

Hell, maybe you are.

Doesn’t matter to me. I’m sidin’ with Biden. I liked him back in the primary debates, when he told us Obama wasn’t ready. I know the man is working for America. My America. The America of the old white males. And a damned good place it was, too.

National - izing

Okay, I’ve got to hand it to the master. It was an infomercial worthy of the king of the world. And “world” was the last word he said. Going to change America and the world. But I'd fallen out of the spell when he mentioned national service.

I’ve heard a rumor that Michelle’s going to be the uber-mommy. She’s not going to be involved in the government, mostly she’s going to be a stay-at-home mom. No office in the West Wing for her. But her pet project is going to be putting us all to work for her husband.

Not too long ago, national was a dirty word. But no more. Now it’s a good word. You know why? Because now it’s their nation. The Obama nation.

In her spare time, Michelle is going to tell you what to do in your spare time. It’s no longer yours, it belongs to them – or at least a good chunk of it does. You’re going to have tasks, like taking out the garbage. But they’ll be bigger, and take more time. Whole days. Years, in fact. And if you don’t feel like doing it, just like Mommy, Michelle’s going to say, “As long as you live in my house (country) you’ll do it.” You don’t want to do it? Go live in a country of your own.

Pardon me, folks, but isn’t this slavery? You have to do it. It’s called mandatory volunteerism – what do you make of that? What I make of it is that it’s mandatory, and you can pick your poison.

This is entirely Un-American. Down to its core. Down to our core. Americans like to decide what they’re going to do, no matter how it turns out. If they feel like being lazy bums, they want to be left to do that. Sleep late and get fired? Their option.

And you’ll choose your work from her list. That’s the “volunteer” part of it.

Americans like to be able to change their minds. About anything. Look at our divorce rate. You think they want to be tied to an obligation they have no choice about? One where if you don’t go they’ll come and get you?

The Dems were once the party of the slave masters. We tend to forget that bit of history. They like to have people under them, and they like those people to stay there. That’s their whole approach. Make a base of felons, illegal immigrants and the jobless. Give them money so they’re yours for life. Not too much money – they might invest it and become Republicans.

I resent the implication that we only help others if we’re forced. There are plenty of people who give their time, their money, their produce, their free advice, to friends, neighbors, and sometimes even people they don’t know. We don’t need to be forced to do good. That takes all the fun out of it.

Lurking behind this is another serious promise. America can’t just depend on its military for national security, America has to have a Civilian National Security Force. Do you know what that means folks? It’s the Minute Men from Sinclair Lewis’s, “It Can’t Happen Here.” Scary title, scary book. All the young punks in town sign up to lord it over others. They’ve got guns. They’re working for the Chief.

You’re not going to have any guns. And neither is your neighbor, if that’s who you’re counting on to protect you. Obama is going to sign the United Nations Small Arms Treaty, the Senate will ratify it, and bye-bye Second Amendment. Watch out then, Buddy, because the only guns left will be illegal ones, and they’re in the hands of ... guess what ... criminals.

But back to the main man. Barack Obama. Very impressive. Would make a good president – of the United Socialists of America.

Bread and Circuses

Hey, folks, I get the idea… you don’t like rich people. Doesn’t bother me – I’m not rich. Are you? Maybe you are, and you don’t know it. If so, you’re in for it. All rich people are, because they’ve been defined as the enemy.

People, you’re making a mistake. The rich are our friends. Without them, we’d still be scratching the ground with sticks to plant our seeds. You think the poor can build a John Deere? The poor by themselves can’t do anything. It takes a gathering and growing of wealth to produce the producers of most of the products you can’t do without. Laundry detergent. Toilet paper. Without the rich, you wouldn’t even have newsprint to save your ass.

Ever hear of the goose that laid the golden egg? Yes you have, don’t lie to me. Somebody killed it out of jealousy, and that was the end of all their wealth. Folks, you’re about to kill that goose. It’s already wounded, laying an egg only every other day, and look what’s happening all over the world. Production is stopping.

Let me see if I can explain: If you take the money away from the rich people and spread it around, everybody has a dollar or two more, which doesn’t matter, and the rich people have no money to make color TVs or build Sports Stadiums, or mount television shows, or pay for them with commercials. There’s a whole big world up there, which you disdain, that provides you with your pleasures.

Well, let’s see how you like it when we’re all equally poor, when there’s no hope in the world that your friend, relative, or neighbor can bail you out, because he’s just as bad off as you are. No point crying to the magistrate, there isn’t even enough money coming in from taxes to buy him a uniform. The tax base is way low. Almost non-existent. That guy behind you on the soup line (run out of the old Starbucks) used to own the three movie theaters in the neighborhood. Now he can’t afford popcorn. The theaters are closed, the seats are ripped out and people are sleeping on the floors. They can’t afford their houses and their landlords, the banks and the feds, can’t afford to fix them up. Nobody’s got money to buy them. They’re moldering, going back to the jungle.

We’re too poor to fix our satellites. We listen to Obama’s daily oratory on little portable radios powered by a crank. Buck up, he tells us. This is only the beginning. There’s bound to be a little disruption as we maneuver the wealth from one group’s hands into another. And stop complaining, you there in the Inner Cities.

Why shouldn’t you complain? You used to be poor, but you had big TVs and boom-boxes. You’re still poor, but your TV’s on the blink and you can’t afford to fix it. You can’t get batteries for the boom-box. And you thought it was bad before! For some reason, it is no consolation to you that everybody else is poor, too.

The Olympics? Have you any idea how much corporate wealth it takes to pull one off?

But listen all you Libs who fought for this and finally got what you wanted, look around you. Nobody's poorer than you are and nobody is sticking his head up above yours.

Nobody’s offering you a job, either. Or making those shoes you fancied, or that motorcycle you just about had enough for. Or turning down your bed on a cruise ship. Luxury, my mate, is out the window. Welcome to flat land. Enjoy your beans.

Dumped by Classy Bloggess

Folks, you will never guess what happened to your old Hank. He has received a sharp blow to his sense of fairness and decency. He was blipped from a blog. Hard to believe, right? I can see the hands going up, and the jumping up and down to say, “Hey! You banned EVERYBODY from YOUR blog.

And yes, I did. Everybody. Not just people with a different opinion from mine. And I told you why. It was not your political views.

I, as you can imagine, do not comment casually. I put as much thought into my comments as I do into my posts, as those of you who write to me via e-mail, know.

So I was shocked when I went back to the blog, and my comment was gone. Removed. Shoveled up and shut up somewhere in a contaminated materials bin.

Now, let me tell you, that what I wrote was not completely devoid of insults, couched though they were in comedy. This is a literary blog. Each entry has a first part cleverly using a classic as a preamble to the second part which is a demonization of the enemy – that’s me, I suppose, because I’m not them – backed up by YouTube entries which they interpret entirely differently from me.

You’d think they would be interested in hearing a different point of view. YOU are, or you wouldn’t be here. I know I must make you feel sick sometimes, just like bitter medicine when you were a kid. But it made you better, as does this. It gives you ammunition. Information is ammunition. Knowledge of the enemy is ammunition. Don’t wait for it to come and hit you in the face; sneak in the back door and take it for yourselves. That’s what you’re doing when you listen to me. You’re a back door man, getting what you shouldn’t – somebody else’s.

I am interested in their point of view. That’s why I went to the blog. Once I was there, I found it a pleasure to read a good writer, who invited everyone to comment, and to send the blog around – presumably to anybody, which is how I got it.

Once reading, I could not help but comment on the excess of violent suggestions, the vilifying of the opposing party, the clips of people being badgered outside churches by newsmen forcing answers on them. Then there were other people, going to a rally, who while standing on line, were taunted by demonstrators whose leader has told the troops to “get in their face.”

Well, people, you know old Hank is not going to stand for that. I gave them “what for” elegantly and maddeningly. They went berserk. Called me names. Asked that I be removed. I was reprimanded personally, in a sequence of e-mails with the mistress of the blog, who finally said she did not wish to converse with me again.

By the way, in our private conversation, the bloggess told me that her people said I was an asshole. You will be glad to know I gave it to her straight; I said her friends were not very discerning if they couldn’t tell a prick from an asshole. Hank is a prick, not an asshole. If you agree, you have gotten my message. If you don’t, you have not.

Our private hook-up behind us, I read the next post, some of which I have described to you, and felt I had to warn against such poisoning of the waters. And I did.

I was immediately attacked by one of the peaceful lefties, in a comment so virulent I had to shield my eyes when I read it. I replied in the voice of a perhaps sarcastic school-master. I answered all the nasty, childish charges. Up it went.

And down it came.

No one was allowed to read this defense. It was taken off the blog. So its readers are left with the impression that horrible Hank Harwood has departed in shame, having been bested by one of their knights.

I want to warn you that war is afoot. The Democrats have declared it, and as with The Puppet Masters, it’s spreading. This blog was a window into their world. It showed me why erstwhile friends are so silent and strange with me, how they disdain me, that they despise me for what I think. They might as well be the people on this blog. And so, I am surrounded by enemies.

Everything they accuse the right of, they are doing. Promoting fear. Intense fear. Promulgating lies. Misrepresenting, editing, and now we hear, fraudulating votes.

But the worst to me, being an English teacher, and degreed in Journalism, is that they want to ban freedom of speech. We are not allowed to have a different opinion, or we will be shunned.

Is nothing beneath these people? They will say and do anything to get their candidate elected. They are strong, in community, like the thralls in The Puppet Masters. Nothing gets through to them but the "narrow" message, and that’s what they want to hear.

“We are right,” is the message, "no matter how wrong."

I have now felt personally, what is going on all over the country – the putting down of dissent. Funny, these people used to cheer free speech. They used to be the dissenters. But there’s only one difference between the oppressor and the oppressed, and that is, which one is in power at the moment.

The Democratic power is building. They are going to have the Presidency, the House, and the Senate. They have already labeled the Republicans as devils. It’s time to exorcise them. And while we’re at it, all those other cranks around, let’s cut their tongues out too. They spout nothing but lies; who will miss them?”

They have control of the Media. (The Puppet Masters took control of the radio station.) The Media has anointed Obama.

All you people out there – you environmentalists who hate corporations – Ralph Nader is your man. He’s YOU. And they never let you see him. What do you think of that? This is not a real election. A pretty man is forced down your throat, and he tastes delicious, so you don’t complain. You know things about him you didn’t know before. You’re a little put off, but you’ll never admit it. All you’ll do is shout louder, to smother the cries of those whose toes you’re stepping on.

Beware, folks, you’re going to have to live in this world. Is this the way you want it to be?

Barack Berated

Hey, little Barry got his ass whupped, didn’t he? By the Principal, no less. Get a load of this picture.

Have you ever seen a guiltier little boy? Or a sterner headmaster? I wouldn’t want to be in Barry’s shoes, would you?

McCain gave him what for on a couple of issues, but what made him hang his head in shame was the talk about the rotten schools in DC, where, in case you don’t know it, almost only African Americans live. And yet, Barack is not for vouchers, which would give the kids the money to go to a school that their parents choose, just like the Obama kids do. What schools? you ask. Folks, can you imagine a world in which hundreds of schools whose tuition exactly matched the value of the voucher would not spring up? Neither can I. Yes, Barry was beaten here.

Mr. McCain gave Mr. Obama a couple of good scoldings. And sometimes a slap with the ruler. “You don’t tell countries you’re going to unilaterally renegotiate their treaties,” he said with exasperation to his errant, young student.

But Barry took a lesson from Tina Fey’s Sarah Palin. While McCain was berating him for minor issues, he sat there looking cute. He smiled at John, he smiled at us – that big, amused, toothy grin. He laughed charmingly. In serious mode, he arranged his face into different, pleasing shapes.

And here’s another tactic I noticed. Three times – about Ayers, about ACORN, and about Columbia (the nation, not his alma mater), he seemed reluctant to talk, then suddenly gave in and said, “Okay, you want to hear about blank, here it is.” Then, all three times, he told extremely convincing stories, if you didn’t know that they were entwined with misrepresentations, or sometimes outright lies. Long, fully-prepared stories, so don’t tell me these weren’t beans he was anxious to spill. Ayers is a professor, and besides, he had nothing to do with him, really; ACORN, yeah, he did some work for them, and they for him, but so what?

Well, they did take close to a million dollars from the campaign, and get this: Obama reported the money was for staging, sound and lighting, but that wasn’t true. The campaign admitted they “made a mistake” and amended their federal filing. It was really get-out-the-vote money. And, they got out voters that didn’t exist, voters that were taken from a phone book, and in one case, the whole starting line-up of the Dallas Cowboys. They fraudulated for him. But whose friends don’t?

McCain praised Obama’s eloquence, twice, and he meant it. But, he said, you have to look at the words. This is true, people. More than look. Figure out how many and what exact meanings these words have, and how they might be foolers. Mr. Obama is turning out to be very skilled in wriggling.

Barry’s good to look at and good to listen to, but I’m liking him less and less as he twitches and shrugs. Barry makes a point of not being forced into giving an answer to the specific question asked. He doesn’t want us to know what he thinks, because if you and I differ, one of us won’t like him.

I liked McCain’s attitude about a lot of things. Ayers, for instance. If Barack hung out with someone who bombed the Pentagon and is not sorry about it, pardon me if I think it’s relevant to the security of the country.

I think McCain won this round. And it was over great odds. Nobody expected anything of him, including the host. When the candidates were introduced, Bill Sheiffer, wearing Tim Russert’s chipmunk cheeks, he was so pleased, asked for a big, warm welcome for Bar-aaack Obaaama! It took a long, luscious time to sail out … “and John McCain” was dropped like an afterthought onto the carpet.

Das Kapital

So, do you feel like a pussy? You should, you coward. You sat there and watched them take away your country – put an end to the American way – and you didn’t do a goddam thing. Well, neither did I. Because it’s fucking hopeless. Do you see what we did? We elected them and let them get together, against us, for their jobs, their perks, their self-esteem. These guys need a lot of power to make them feel okay about themselves. To make them feel like they’re doing something.

You could end it in November. That’s right. End it. Do you realize, people, that you have the power to not return any of these guys to the House? Not one single one. An entire change of cast. And the same for a third of the Senate. Think maybe that would send some sort of message to the rest of them? Think maybe things would change?

But you won’t. You like your guy, he’s yours. He fights for your parks and your statues – oh, no, my demographic wouldn’t want a statue. You’re above that. Be proud of yourself. You only want the good things.

Anyway, what the hell do you think happened? Remember they didn’t pass the bail-out bill? We were all surprised. They were listening to us. We didn’t want it no matter what party we’re in, and we managed, this time, to let them know. Because we have the technology to do it. We yelled, and they heard us. We were proud of ourselves, even though we knew it meant we were all going to the poor house and the world was going to collapse besides.

It was a bi-partisan revolt against the president, the congressional leadership, and the two major party candidates.

So how come now we’ve got a bill? They got together and made a deal. Then they went before the cameras and told us that thanks to them, the bill finally did pass, which is what we all wanted in the first place, right? To save our asses. Right?

We were stunned, but we looked around, and nobody else seemed upset. Actually, they were too stunned to look upset, as were we. We merely looked bland. Blank.

At first, nobody talked about it. But now they’re starting to grumble. If you put your ear to the ground, you can hear it. We saw something happen. Some magic trick. We don’t know how it was done. But when we reached into our back pocket, hot damn if our wallet wasn’t gone!

We now have a people of the government, by the government and for the government. Just like all those other totalitarian states. But hey…there are perks for living in a glorious people’s republic. Gas prices have dropped, and we can stop fighting over how much to tax capital gains. There aren’t going to be any capital gains. Without capitalism there isn’t going to be any capital. And, very soon, we’re all going to be on vacation.

Brokaw for President

Well folks. Learned your balls off at that debate, didn’t you? Oblame-o and McLame were rife with information, eager to tell you exactly, yes exactly, how they were going to do all the marvelous things they promise. Think, people. Did you hear one thing you didn’t know?

The star of the show was Tom Brokaw. He had all the good lines. And they were impromptu, triggered by the unlawful behavior of the combatants, who refused to obey the agreed-upon rules of the war. Brokaw was the only one who wasn’t scripted. The others were like junior high school dramatists, choked full of their lines, which have now lost their meaning and so come out on their own, in all the wrong places, with words omitted or strangely out of place in the sentence.

You noticed it about the Sarah Palin machine, but did you notice it about the Barack and John robots? Let’s forget it people, these two aren’t going to give us anything. Not the truth, and not respect.

The people they pounced on in the audience must have thought they’d lost their minds. These guys don’t know how to deal with individuals. The people out there are just representatives of types. They keep getting it wrong, talking to a guy who may be a banker himself, as if he’s just defaulted on his mortgage, lost his home and is living in a sewer somewhere with his family. The only genuine moment is when McLame gets a hand on a veteran, and then you have to be afraid he’s going to hump him, he’s so anxious to show his love. It may be real, John, but keep it in your tweeds.

I hope no kids were listening. These people are lousy role-models. They don’t answer the question. Even if they can. They’re afraid if they say something off-the-cuff, in other words give an honest answer, all hell will break loose.

So instead, they settle for memorized answers that are fed into them even while they sleep. When they babble before answering, they’re searching for the right one. If it takes too much time to come, they settle for the next one that cycles up and give it to us with a straight face, as if that’s what they were asked. But part of the way through, the “right” answer to the question rolls around to the front of their heads and starts to come out of their mouths, interrupting the “wrong” answer that was already in progress. There’s where the half-sentences come, or the totally irrelevant remarks.

Are you guys buying it? How about McLame when he said he knows how to do everything, but can’t tell you anything about it because the enemy might hear. I’ll buy that for war, but not for Wall Street. And anyway, he tells us he knows how to capture Bin Ladin. But don’t you think if he really knew how he’d have mentioned it to somebody privately?

How about Oblame-o, whose generalities are so bright and beautiful you could sail across the ocean on them, but who never gave us one particular – like the fifteen billion dollar-a-year investment which will in ten years free us from dependence on foreign oil. We have no idea what the investment is, or how it will do it. However, having just spent a hundred times that much on Wall Street bailouts, doesn’t it seem if the price was that cheap it would have been done?

Let’s face it. It’s not about either one of these dummies. So which ventriloquist are you voting for?

Witchcraft

You know I’m a big fan of Joe Biden. Very personal with me. He reminds me of myself. Goodlooking old white guy, lives in the country, drives a pick-up, shoots off his mouth, doesn’t care how it’s going to affect his future.

So I was pulling for him in spite of the fact that I don’t like a lot of what he wants. There’s something that goes beyond that. It’s the man himself. How he lives, how he talks, thinks, all that stuff you see as the candidates tire.

You can imagine how shaken I was when I saw that woman in the black dress – call it a suit if you want to – I don’t and neither would Hillary – reach out her hand, touch him, and with a few words that we all heard, wrap him up like a spider wraps a fly. “Nice to meet you. Hey, can I call you Joe?”

Huh? Wha? Uh …. Yeah, yeah, sure, anything. Anything. ANYTHING. And off he went to his station, a podium, thank god, to conceal any evidence of the effect she’d had on him. Did you notice, ladies and gentlemen, that he was hardly there for the first few questions. Vacant face, no smile, just yessing along until he came to.

And found himself catty-corner to the lady who’d seduced him, right out there, in front of millions, maybe billions. Who sank him to his figurative knees and left him begging there in the dirt while she went on to captivate the audience, only now and then turning to him … and when she did …

When she did, it was with that big ole Miss America smile. Don’t forget, boys and girls, Joe Biden is a real American. Joe Biden has the heart of a Joe six-pack, whatever new Merlot he’s drinking now. Every time she turned that smile on him, he melted. He blushed. His grin, meant to hide his embarrassment, merely emphasized it.

Her attacks were like butter-cream frosting spread with a soft spatula. Like the loving “tch - tch” of a mommy who’s caught you where you shouldn’t be. You know next minute comes the hug.

And so it did. The handshake was it. It said this spell I put you under is real. It carries over to our real lives. They chatted like a man and a woman who’ve just met at a cocktail party – high-end bar these days – have noted the unignorable superiority of the two of them over other mere mortals, and will be in bed within two hours – together.

Of course these two are a little busy right now for personal flirtations, so they did the next best thing. They introduced the new loved one to the family. Up there on stage were all the beautiful blonde Bidens – so many of them, of all sizes, and the pleasingly plump Palins, all saying hello to Mommy or Daddy’s new friend.

I called it folks, when I said we should go right to the second string. These are two people of conviction and integrity. They can talk to each other with love instead of hate. You could see Biden rooting for her. You could see her appreciating Biden.

Did they have stuff to say? Oh, sure, but you’ve heard it all before. No reason to go into it here. The debate has been moved to a different level. Let’s bask in it for a while.

Bi-party Sin

You want me to say something. About the financial crisis. Why, I wonder. This is a political blog. Didn’t you hear the news? The financial crisis is above politics. Politics has nothing to do with it. It’s time to be bi-partisan. We’re all Americans. We all live in the same world; we don’t want to see it go down.

Oh, we don’t? Some of us seem to think: better the world go down than I lose my job. Others seem to think: here’s my opportunity to blackmail the world, to hold it at gunpoint so I can get my little piece of the payola – say that park with my name on it. Still others want to punish the rich guys even if the rich guys have to sell one or two extra homes, while they’ve got to go live in a box on Broadway.

It’s a joke, isn’t it, the way they keep blaming each other back and forth? Well, here, unfortunately, I have to come out on the side of the hated Republicans, for one simple reason. I’m a simpleton, I admit it; I like simple reasons. Wanting to let poor people live in houses just like all the rest of us is a Democratic concept. The Dems are the good guys, remember? The Republicans are always in there trying to ruin it for the little guy. So why should they want to pay his rent in a house he can’t afford?

But by now, that’s a big SoWhat? We have to do something. And do you know what our representatives are doing? They’re trying to squeeze their own pet bills into this overwhelmingly important one. Items they know the other guys would normally have to reject. It’s business as usual down in Washington. Oink! Snort! Snurgle! We do love that pigmeat.

Gimme, gimme, gimme. And they’re getting.

Remember when we used to laugh at Russia because there was only one candidate running in their elections? We have two. And we’ve convinced ourselves that makes it better. Yet these two parties, together, have ruined us.

Left/right, blue/red, Dems/Reps, donkeys/elephants. Two points of view. How come no more? Two points of view is a tug of war. Three points of view is a round-table discussion. You Dems, do you ever listen to Ralph Nader? The media has shut him up tighter than a … never mind. Tight. He’s been anti-corporation, anti-Wall Street, pro-people, from the start. He’s the only one with anything to say on the matter. And they won’t let him say it. Do you know the debates are run not by the TVstations, but by a commission, a joint commission of the two parties? There’s where it is, my innocent readers, right at the top. That’s where they’re braided, knotted, fused, married, in it together to get what they can, and to keep everybody else out.

If you don’t like Ralph, try Ron. Ron Paul has been preaching the downfall of the American economy… well, you heard him, didn’t you? Way back then when they let him into the debates. He gave real economics lessons. On the dangers of printing money. Hell, if it were up to Ron Paul, we’d all be carrying gold pieces in our cargo pants.

Here’s a plea, people. You don’t have to vote for the elephant or the donkey. Chances are, if you’re in my demographic, your vote does not count. Hear that? Your vote does not count. Your state is going for Obama, no matter what you think, no matter which lever you pull. So you are free. Free to do some good with your vote. Express your intelligence. Express your defiance of being put in your place and told to stay there. Express your outrage at how they’ve taken over the government and now are trying to take over America. Give your vote to somebody else. Nader if you like him. The marijuana party if you like them. The Green Party. The Libertarian party, BobBarrBeDamned.

Nobody’s been minding the store. The kids came in and divided up the inventory. They’re playing their own games with it. Things are breaking, getting misplaced. Lost. They didn’t take a good look at where things were, and now they don’t know where they came from.

We need to call in some outside help. Some grown-ups.

I came upon this note I wrote last winter. Or notes. It’s titled “Lessons from The Bible and Gibbon.” The first one is irrelevant, but to whet your appetite I’ll tell you what it is:

Prostitutes are powerful people.

Next: War, or at least the ability to wage war, is necessary for peace. (Recall the fate of those non-violent peoples in their little walled cities.)

And last: Anyone living in America should not be complaining. Anyone who finds fault –it’s not the fault of particular men, let alone of the country, but of humankind. Be glad for everyone who rises above and try to, yourself.

But I must leave you with some real help in these troubled financial times. Let me pass on something that a friend told me. Something to help you grasp the enormities. And all the zeroes. In hundred dollar bills, a million dollars will fit into a large attaché case. A billion dollars fills ten pick-up trucks. A trillion dollars is about 200 of those standard forty-foot shipping containers.

Old Miss Take

Anybody catch the debate last night? Anybody watch it all the way to the end? Or did you quit when Jim Lehrer wet his pants and had to be sent home?

Never have I seen such a display of juvenilia as Mr. Lehrer put on when the two contestants refused to follow his orders. Which were, Okay, Gentlemen, I want you to pull down your pants and fuck each other. Right there on stage so we can all watch. Each other! Not me! Not the audience! Each other. That’s what’s in my plan. Face to face. No mean feat, and the contestants declined. They continued to ignore each other, except for once or twice when John McCain actually tried to say some words directly to Mr. Obama, and Mr. Lehrer said, “No, no, sorry, time for another question.”

The man should be put out to pasture in the block corner. He was two pees short of a tantrum. For over half the debate, the players refused to obey. But did he take the hint? Did he give up? Did he hope that we would forget that his game plan wasn’t happening? No. Before every question he instructed – not like a kindergarten teacher, but like a sub who doesn’t know kids – “Address your answer to your opponent!” “Talk to each other, not to me!” Face him, not the camera! Spar with each other! That’s what I promised! That sound you hear is the moderator stamping his feet and pounding his podium.

Not that we should have been watching in the first place. Do you know, Ladies and Gentlemen, that this debate was scheduled to be about National Security and Foreign Policy? Well, it was. But the media felt that we had to discuss the financial crisis because that’s what’s on all our one-track-at-a-time minds.

Mr. Lehrer actually said that the debate was supposed to be about foreign policy and national security, which, get this folks, get this, BY DEFINITION includes the global financial crisis. They must have said to each other, over at the commission, “Hey, we’ll just use the word global and tell them by definition it fits, and they’re such jerks, they’ll believe us.” Well, you may be such a jerk, but I’m not.

What’s more, nothing global was mentioned. We went right to tax cuts, health care, and the price of diapers. Which should interest Mr. Lehrer.

It might not have been so bad, or so blatant, if they’d tacked it onto the end of the foreign policy/national security segment, but instead, rubbing his hands together, not wasting a minute, Mr. Lehrer, thinking he had all the power in the world to direct the debaters, demanded that each of them declare how they were going to vote on the financial bailout bill. Well, folks, there is no financial bailout bill yet. That’s what McCain went back to Washington to see about. There was nothing to answer, and the candidates politely ignored him. Seven or eight times at least, as he kept coming back and saying, “I’ll ask that first question again. I still have this turd inside me that won’t come out. I’ll try one more time.”

Two or three times, he screamed at them, “Tell, me. How are you going to adjust your programs to deal with the financial crisis?” Well, man, they’re politicians. They answered around his question, agreeing with him that of course something would have to change, but never saying what.

Finally, I do believe someone informed him there was no bill, and he stopped and at the tail end of the debate, finally got onto foreign policy, after most of the audience was either asleep or at the kitchen table discussing what to do about him – nursing home or assisted living.

Did the candidates say anything? No. Nothing. No thing. Not a thing. That you haven’t heard before. The war’s no issue anymore, we’re coming home and we’re staying. Both. Everybody knows that by now. Each party blames the financial crisis on the other party. It happened on George Bush’s watch, but was the result of Clinton era support of the Fanny and Freddy funnel of funds to the financially impaired. It’s hard to untangle by now, and maybe in our own best interest, we shouldn’t try. One thing has become clear. They’re in it together. They’ve all got their fingers in the pie, and they deserve to, because they all helped bake it. If it’s gone bad, they ought to dispose of it together and stop pretending the other guy made it.

Eisenhower warned us about the Military/Industrial complex. That’s nothing compared to the Legislative/Corporate complex. Which may be why Congress’s approval rating is lower than George Bush’s. You didn’t think anything could be lower than the sewer, did you? But they are. And you’re going to bring them back again next year, for some reason that’s hard to fathom. I suppose it’s along the line of people not minding the smell of their own waste products. I promised I wouldn’t say that other word.

And these two people we have to choose from? They are both from that sub-sewer. Two of the people who make the laws we don’t like, who tell us what to do instead of the other way around.

They’re called “public servants”, but they're taking over, guys. They want to buy a big share of America and make Uncle Sam the national landlord. We’re all going to live in one big government housing project. All you get to pick is which one leads you on your leash, straight to their big pile of dog-do where you can put in your two “scents.”

But stay tuned folks, there’s more coming from the top dogs. It would be in your best interest to hold your nose. How about another trillion to buy up the auto loans that men are tired of paying on their gas guzzlers? Or maybe ten trillion to assume the credit card debt of women who can’t stay away from the shopping channel?

Pretty hefty items they're adding to our tab. And I see the waiter coming! Buddy, can you spare a dime?

Thirty

This post is dedicated to any of you who might be celebrating your thirtieth birthday today. The big Three Oh. The dreaded 30. The end of childhood, the beginning of being an adult. No more excuses, you’re only looked upon as a kid if you still look like one. Give it up, brother. Or sister. You’re on your own now. Nobody’s covering for you.

But there’s a bright note, all you new grown-ups. Welcome to the Republican party. That’s what happens, you know. You wake up one morning on the dot of thirty and you realize you have something to lose. Something you’ve been accumulating all your life. Your wealth, your self-respect, your confidence in your ability to earn, and you want to protect that. Don’t be glum, it happens to the best of us.

It happened to me. I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but I was born a Democrat. My lovely lady from California said that I must have had a strange mother. And indeed I did. My mother was one train stop short of a cell meeting. And I was her student. Not just in politics, but in sensibilities. I was the only boy on the hill who didn’t hunt or fish. That’s how I learned to fight. My mother hated it, but I had to defend myself. I was surrounded by Republicans and all they stand for – Bibles, guns, fishing rods… all the paraphernalia. But I spurned it. I clung to my mama’s socialist apron strings. That’s what we called Liberals in those days. Socialists.

But I grew out of it, and here I am, to welcome you to the club. As a Republican, you’re not doing too well right now, and I’m sorry. You’ve lost a lot of money in the financial meltdown. It’s especially sad for you because just yesterday, as a Democrat, you must have been rejoicing. You got what you want. The come-uppance of all those rich bastards who cheat their way into billions on Wall Street. Wall comes tumbling down. And there you stand, a new, wet-behind-the-ears-Republican, who doesn’t know how to get out of the way.

But listen…at least you’re not Black. How do I know you’re not Black? Black is not in my Demographic. You guys are Libs. The Blacks are plain old Dems. You’re not in the same club, people. You don’t read the same mags, listen to the same music, go to the same churches, or read the same blogs.

If you were Black, you would be getting the short end of socialism as we have it in the USA. The Blacks are being robbed blind by Social Security. Blacks on the average don’t live as long as Whites. Yet they have to pay into the system for as long as the Whites do. Then the Blacks die, and all over Florida, the Whites are left walking from their condos, down to the main drags, to collect their checks and their ice cream cones.

So be thankful that you’re now an old white guy. Well, not so old. Wait till you’re forty. I hear in California they tell death jokes on your fortieth birthday. But they live fast in California, and they burn out in the sun.

When you woke up thirty this morning, I’m sure your first thought was that the goddam government has ruined the country. Fiddled with Wall Street in such stupid ways – how did Fanny ever get her fat ass on the government payroll? And where the fuck did Freddy come from? He just popped out of the box behind Fanny, like Ken popped out behind Barbie.

While you were brushing your teeth, I know you were gnashing them over the fool Fed rules that forced mortgages on the impoverished – people with no money to pay them back. They probably always knew that when the bubble burst they could lay the tab on you.

As a Republican, I’m sure your stomach was tied in a knot over breakfast at the thought that FedGov has nationalized Wall Street. Not like soldiers, with guns, but like mommies with sponges. “Oh, poor baby, what a mess you made. Let’s just take those graham crackers and marshmallows away from you. Mommy will make the smores. You sit over there and wait till she serves them. Don’t worry, Mommy will clean it all up. Oh, and don’t go into the kitchen anymore. If you want anything, ask Mommy. She’ll make it for you.”

Or, after you went up on the curb and hit that mailbox, “Okay, kid, you messed up with the car. If you have to go anyplace, ask me. I’ll take you.” So you handed over the keys. They were a little heavy to carry anyway.

You could accept that before, but now you’re in charge of your own life. You, baby, not the man in the moon, YOU. You want a government that recognizes that – a government that takes care of things, without running your life.

Today, if anyone hands you a fluffy, frilly, touchy-feely party hat, decline it in favor of a thinking cap. You now belong to the party of thought. Congratulations and have a very happy birthday. You can treat yourself to a fine time out – you’re a Republican now.

Understudy Under Study

Well, folks, I have just watched Sarah Palin being interviewed by Sean Hannity (part 2). I have not yet managed to catch up with Gibson’s interview, but now, having heard this, I’m sure you’re right – it must have been bad. I read that Gibson sounded like an impatient teacher. Sean sounded like a teacher putting words in a pet student’s mouth on the oral exam. This wasn’t hardball, it wasn’t even softball. This was T-ball. Her answers air-brushed away all previous mis-speaks, mis-takes, and mis-behaviors. His tone was “There, there, poor girl”, and in the end, he gave her an A and acted like she’d earned it.

When asked by my friend Pat Buchanan, to give his one-word impression, he said he felt she was “authentic.” He added that she thought deeply about the questions. But also, that she answered with alacrity. Sean, baby, wake up! She thought deeply about the answers to your questions weeks ago, and memorized them. When her eyes went up and sideways, she was seeking her memorized answers. Were you looking at her legs? She fooled you.

Though she didn’t please me, her answers did. She grew up in a house that sounds reasonably enlightened. Her father was a science teacher. She would never shove her faith down anyone else’s throat. An ugly image. But this was one of Hannity’s hand-outs. In a reassuring voice, he had said, “You don’t want to teach only Creationism in the schools, do you?” To which we got the above science answer. But did anybody catch that “only”? The Gov does want to teach Creationism.

And I’m all for it, as long as she teaches Darwinism too. As I’ve said before, they are both religions. Let’s let everybody into the game. In school, all these theories should be considered. That’s how people learn how to think.

Sadly for some, Ms Palin does have “faith”. But don’t we all? In something? Even if it’s faith in yourself, in your ability to get to a goal, in luck? She grew up in Alaska, folks, and she says that means you grow up respecting freedom. That’s what I’m hoping for – a little more respect for freedom, the thing that makes us feel good, that makes us happy, that makes us able to do what we want to do. I put my faith in freedom. Which means I have a higher opinion of mankind than people who want to corral them, and harness them to the means of production.

“Take Barack Obama. He’s a good-looking guy.” But what’s this “universal volunteerism” he’s got in mind for us? Universal means everybody. Volunteer means it’s up to you whether you do it or not. Folks, please … Do you think everybody is going to volunteer for community service of one kind or another? Think of the people you know. Are they all going to volunteer, every last one of them? Voluntarily volunteer? You know they’re not. They’re like you. Their lives are too busy, their schedules too full.

So how is he going to do it? I’ll tell you how: by making you an offer you can’t refuse. Such as, “Do this, and I’ll send you to college.” Not too bad, but how about, “Do this and you’ll be able to get food stamps. Otherswise, sorry.” Hmmm. Starts to sound a bit like slavery. It’s coming, guys, it’s coming.

But back to the lady. It’s always good to come back to the lady. When Sarah was trying to recall some of the talking points they’d jabbed into her, she sounded like Miss South Carolina. Remember her? She got lost in an answer and regurgitated every platitude she had pushed in when she was preparing for the big moment.

However, Ms Palin left behind the long, rambling, embarassingly pat answers as the interview wound down.

She spoke to Troopergate II. (The original was in Arkansas.) As I see it, she tried to get rid of a guy who deserved getting rid of and she was unable to do it. Cops, wherever they are, are a tight bunch. They protect each other. They’re immune to the people. They’re immune to the governor. She was not able to get the ex-brother-in-law fired, even though, among other things, he’d tasered a kid of his. If he tasered his kid, he could taser you for speeding and trying to explain why. You don’t want this guy to be a state trooper. But she couldn’t get rid of him. He’s still there. Watch out if you ever go north to Alaska.(And anyway, aren’t you libs supposed to be opposed to bad cops being continued on the job?)

I don’t know what there is in this story that would cause such a commotion, except that it’s perhaps all they’ve got against her. I admire her attempt to save other people from her brother-in-law.

I don’t doubt that she tried to get the guy fired. I don’t doubt that she doesn’t approve of some books. I don’t doubt that she’d like to haul federal pork to Alaska. But she did the right thing in the end, and that’s what it’s all about – foregoing your first selfish instinct in face of the people you serve. We all have that selfish inclination no matter how small a voice we’ve reduced it to, no matter how far and deeply we’ve tucked it away. It’s the baby in us. Fighting it is what makes you a man, ladies included. “Growing up” it’s called. It appears that most people who go into political life remain babies forever.

It’s the same old argument, folks. Do we have faith in ourselves, do we want the freedom to take care of ourselves, or do we want our Washington servants to run our lives? Unfortunately, they’re not even our servants. They’ve come to think of themselves as our masters.

If we value freedom, we must avoid the slippery slope to slavery.

That Barack is a community organizer is an important point. That’s his skill. Getting people to do things. I don’t want anybody getting me to do anything. I have enough things of my own to do, and so do all of you. When I want to “do” for somebody else, I want to be the one to pick the who, what, when, where, and why of it.

So hate me folks, I don’t want you telling me what to do. Not even the long way around, through Barack. I’m looking at the candidates as people now. Who they are. Barack has been embroiled in the seamy side of inner-city politics, in the most notoriously political city of them all. Palin has breathed the fresh, wild air of Alaska. She knows how to defend herself against encroachment. She fights it off in her office with the same determination she would fight off wolves circling in on her campsite.

Hey! You say. This election isn’t between Obama and Palin. It’s between Obama and McCain.

Oh. Pardon me. I got confused. But it’s confusing, you know. Barack behaves like it’s between Obama and Bush. The press acts like it’s between Obama and Palin. All this outrage against Sarah, all those Dems digging for oil in Wasilla. I completely forgot about John McCain.

But if you care about freedom, he’s somebody who knows all about it. By the day and by the year. He knows what it means to be without it. You don’t. Yet.

But let’s not part on that gloomy note. I offer, in the spirit of senseless mirth:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj3iNxZ8Dww

Fair Game

Folks, I have had an epiphany, whatever that is. I think it’s what I had. I will look it up later. Now I want to tell you about it.

The issues between the candidates are playing out in a peculiar way. It looks like we’re getting the same thing no matter what. Obama says the surge was better than we ever dreamed it could be, and McCain is trading in the Straight Talk Express and getting on the Global Warming Jet.

So the issues don’t matter.

But there is something more important than issues. Fairness. I hate to see unfairness, it … well, if I were a woman, it would make me cry. I’m not, so I just let it tear my gut apart like a man.

I would like to award the presidency to John McCain, because it is only fair. He loves his country, suffered for it, God knows he’s got experience, it’s his turn, he should have had it when we gave it to George Bush. Everybody wanted him, maybe even you.

However, at the end of the four years he claims is all he’ll take, we must not elect Ms Palin, even if she’s next up, and we have learned to love her. We must give it to Hillary because it just isn’t fair not to. She’s qualified, she’s demonstrated she will work her balls off, and she WANTS it, folks, she wants it. She should have had it when she passed the buck to John Kerry. It was a mistake. I say she should have it. Anything else is unfair.

Here is what caused my epiphany. Please put up with the commercial that comes between you and it.

http://www.nbc.com/Saturday_Night_Live/video/clips/palin-hillary-open/656281/

Shove It

I’ve been trying all week to write to you about the Great Divide – how Dems and Reps can’t talk to each other anymore – you know all about it. At the same time I’ve been trying to accommodate all of you who want me to pick on the Reps as much as I do the Dems. And theoretically, I do.

But people! I can’t do it, because every time I start, the Dems outstrip the Reps in the “divisiveness” division. Reps will talk to Dems, but the Dems won’t talk back. They shut up their lips in a tight, tense smile and they do not respond. If forced to, they explode. I’ve seen it over and over again and I can’t get it out of my mind, or my message.

I recently met a woman – a Hillaryite – who found out her lawyer was a Republican and took her business away to somebody else. Nothing had changed about the kind, accommodating gent, except his politics in the eye of the beholder, and that changed everything for her.

Folks, you’re the party of labels. Of stigmatizing, stereotyping, labels. You want to know the kinky little details of the past fornications of every contributor to everybody’s gene pool. Until then, you can’t make a decision on him. Yes, I said him. I’m through with he-sheing. You’re all men to me until you take your pants off. I’m no sexist.

I’m no racist either. But you are. To the nth degree. Yesterday I was threatened with race war if Obama doesn’t win. You know what that makes me want to do? It makes me want to harness up the elephant and go down and vote for his party – the party of racial blindness. The party who has put a Black in the most important post in the United States government, the Secretary of State. And another before her.

I am not responsible for slavery. My ancestors were not responsible for slavery. They were Northerners, a quarter of a million of whom died to free the slaves. You hear that? DIED to free the slaves. I shouldn’t pay reparations, I should get them.

Neither should the Italians, or the Jews or any of the other people that came here long after slavery was abolished, who had no hand in it, nothing to do with it. If you want to go after somebody, how about going after the descendents of the people who captured those primitives and put them in the holds of ships to die disgusting deaths. Let’s find them. I do believe they’re mostly British. You WASPs out there. It’s YOU! Empty your pockets, people, and pay up. Anybody bragging about his early origins is suspect.

Now let’s talk about these poor descendents of the actual persons who were subjected to the pain, the fear, the indignity of everything that went on in the abominable practice of slavery. Who are they? They’re the lucky Africans who aren’t in Africa, but are in the US of A , with every much right to the American dream as anybody else. They’re dictating culture, filling up the broadband with black faces, going to college, winning Oscars, being loved and admired by all. And, oh yes, being Secretaries of State. And, hey, running for President. Have they had to face bigots? Who hasn’t?

And here's a little secret. The survivors of the horrible passage from Africa, the fiendish forced labor, and sub-human living arrangements are stronger, smarter and healthier for the Darwinian culling. The living, so-called African-Americans, are not victims. They have been elevated by brutal historical forces. Check out the NBA.

There are poor people in this country. We can and should take care of them. Does it matter what color their skin is? Apparently, to you, it does. That makes you, not me, a racist.

And now, the worst has happened. If Obama doesn’t become President, what will the world think of us? The Blacks will riot. We’ll have race wars.

Well let me tell you, people, you’re not going to shove a Socialist down my throat no matter how much I love chocolate. I’m fighting back. Harder, because you threatened me. You threatened me with race war if I don’t vote your way. Well fuck that. In the words of our cowboy President, “Bring it on!”

A man of the land, who never votes, said to me, “Guess I’m gonna have to go out and vote for the old, white guy.” He doesn’t take kindly to being threatened. And neither do I, folks.

It would be nice if we could elect a Black because he was the best man for the job, but it would not be nice to elect one just because he’s black.

I do not want Barack Obama to be president, even though he’s black and beautiful, because he is also a Socialist. I don’t want universal health insurance. Universal health care I’m all for. Take care of sick people at the door. Don’t throw away money on elderly Jews who go to the doctor eight days a week because it’s free, and swallow a ton of poison because it’s subsidized. Don’t make me pay for somebody else’s fertility problems after they've aborted healthy babies back when they were fit. Forget about my shelling out for sex-change operations for criminals. Everybody is not entitled to, nor does everybody need, everything everybody else does. Take a little time to sort it out. But no, that’s not the Socialist way. The Socialist way is “mow ’em all down at once. It’s cheaper that way. You get a lot of stuff you don’t want, but that’s how we deal with vast numbers.”

I don’t want everyone to be forced to go to college because that’s the way we teach reading now. If you want to learn some serious science or get a so-called liberal arts education you’ll have to wait till you're thirty in a post-post-graduate situation.

I don’t want to sign myself over to the UN or any of the other thug organizations Barack thinks were ordained by God.

And you know what, guys? I don’t want to suddenly be swamped by a disproportionate number of people trying to do something for “their people” instead of for all of us. We’re all supposed to be their people, but I see that’s not how you see it.

When I asked a Liberal once, why Bush didn’t get credit for Condoleeza Rice, he said, “What has she done for her people?” Folks, I found that infuriating. Condoleeza Rice thinks that I, myself, am her people, just as much as the Black guy down the block. That’s America.

I have plenty against the Republicans. They’re stupid. They won’t take up weapons against their own. Instead, they try to appease them. They gave away the store to get Dems on their side.

You don’t hear Republicans saying they won’t buy from Democrats. It’s un-American. Republicans are too polite. It’s unsportsmanlike.

When Republicans tell the truth you claim they’re talking dirty. They’re talking dirty if they say BO has no experience, if they say he’s got radical friends, if they say he went to a church that spewed hatred. I say that every time the Democrats put up an ad that pictures McCain and Bush, the Republicans should put up an ad featuring Barack and the Reverend. That, is what I call fair.

Democrats, on campuses, on highways, and in towns, tear down Republican signs. Republicans do not tear down Democratic signs. And you know goddam well how the liberal students of America treat conservative visitors to their campuses. I suppose that’s because they know they are right, and are therefore immune from the laws of decency, of courtesy, and even of our land.

The Republicans have ruined this country with eight years of compromising, or worse, giving in to, the Democrats. Barack wants to reach across the aisle and grab the Republicans kicking and screaming, back across it and into his cell meeting. There’s no compromise. There isn’t even any acknowledgment of another valid position. In other words, he’s just like you, my sweet Demographic. He’ll get together with them for the Photo Op, to prove how open-minded he is, but that’s it. Just like you. He’s not interested in conversation. Let’s eat and get out of here. These Republicans have a funny smell.

People! Can’t you think for yourselves? Is there absolutely nothing you find wrong with the world Barack Obama wants for us? Nothing? Is there nothing about the notion of freedom that you like? Cornell, my alma mater, used to have written on our student ID cards, the words, “Freedom with Responsibility.” You guys have taken the freedom out of it and only want to deal with the reponsiblity. Worse, you feel responsible for everything, even for what God hath wrought.

And you want me to feel responsible for the inconvenient truth that Islamic Militants have declared war on my country and have announced their desire to kill us all. That’s supposed to be my fault, so I ought to go on bended knee and apologize.

Barack thinks AchMyDinnerJacket is his friend. Well, he may be Barry’s friend, I wouldn’t doubt it, but he’s not mine. I want to squash the little bugger, not buy him dinner. He’s demonstrated how good his word is, over and over again, and you still want to talk? He laughs at you. Sure he wants Barack in power. He sees he’s a simpleton.

Ooops. I just felt a lightening of the load as more or you clicked away. No, I don’t think Barry’s dumb. I think he’s got quite a grasp of Chicago politics. But I don’t think it translates.

And I’m not sure Barry wants it to translate. Maybe he wants to be one of the players, just like he was in Chicago, reaping the benefits. “I’ll make a deal with you Achy, you get this, I get that. The American people? Don’t worry about them. I can take care of them.” Barack is a worldist. He’d prefer being president of the world to being president of just one section of it. A section he’s not particularly attached to, having, as he says, such international roots (Was he really born in Hawaii or was it perhaps a little off-shore?) and experiences growing up. He feels himself a citizen of the world. I want a citizen of my country, because I think I need protection from the world. America, since her birth, has always been better than the world. Hear that, you self-deprecating worms? Your country is, and always was, better than any other country on Earth.

Don’t bother me with your litany of Yankee sins. Or praise of Sweden or Iceland. Iceland has re-authorized the killing of whales. That makes them murderers in my book. America has, at times, sinned. But America is bigger than her flawed components. America is her Constitution – the acknowledged "number one" of civilized and civilizing documents.

You people are like kittens who trust everything, and go out at night and get gobbled up by coyotes. You feel so “nice” inside yourselves, because you’ve talked yourselves into believing it, that you think everybody is just as “nice” inside as you are. Well you better watch out, because it’s true. They’re just as “nice” as you, and you, way deep down, are nowhere near as nice as you think. You’ve got the same balance of good and evil as everybody else. You’ve scrunched your evil down, you think, but it comes out everywhere. Out of your mouth, out of your eyes, out of your skin. You’ve reserved the bad part of you for Republicans. Your wrath is centered soley on them, with the Big Bad Bush as their mascot. You are totally consumed with biting your own tail, part of your own body (politic). Whether you like it or not; these are your countrymen.

Consider, those of you who are still reading, removing all labels, being blind to color except on clothes, and seeing your fellow Americans as they are, perhaps for the first time in your life. Refuse to be a bigot.

Lipstick

I’ve got a lot of people here angry at me for taking notice of a pretty woman. Well, shame on you, especially you gutless men, for not having the balls to come right out and say the girl’s got something. For having to find nothing but fault in the piece of work set before you. And I’ll tell you something, you fuckers, I’ve lost an assignation with a beautiful woman over this, and I don’t take that kindly. What in God’s name is wrong with you folks that you can’t have a moment to see a person without your filters and blinders. Pretend you’re a Republican. Okay, I shouldn’t have said that. Pretend you’re an Independent. See her as she is, not as a target for the ammunition you’re collecting to fire.

I have it easy. As a libertarian, small “l”, I look out for my liberty. Someone wants to take it away, I hit him with all I’ve got, I don’t care what color shirt he has on.

For instance, McCain-Feingold takes away my freedom of speech. I detest John for it. Hear that? Detest him. I detested his immigration plan. I detest his opportunistic embrace of the global warming crowd. I don’t like the way he drops my liberty in the aisle while he’s reaching across it. But my liberty will be worth nothing if I am not protected by my army, which is about the only thing libertarians want to spend collective money on. McCain, because of his personal experience, who he is, how he was brought up, how his upbringing made him feel about America, is programmed to protect me. Obama is programmed to question America, to judge her, find her lacking, and to change her. Well, people, I don’t want America changed. Not by Obama, or McCain. I think as she is, she’s better than any other place on earth where humans have got a foothold. Could America be better? Yes. But not by changing what she is. America can be better by being better at what she is. I don’t like the direction of Obama’s change, and I don’t like the direction of McCain’s change, but Obama wants more of it than McCain.

Sarah Palin, I am hoping, has been programmed to love freedom. I’m going to forgive her for killing innocent animals, because I don’t understand the heart of the so-called sportsman, and I think she is going to defend my liberty. From foreigners, from Democrats, and from Republicans. In Alaska, Republicans were in control, so she fought with Republicans. Now she’s got to fight with you.

If any of you were watching, and I doubt that you were (you’re not allowed to), you heard what she was going to do for you, and then, what she is going to do to you, in order to get into a position where she can do things for you. She went right at Obama, with a sarcastic, smug, smile. A better, more searing sarcastic, smug smile than anybody on the other side can muster, because this lady is tough. This lady said, last night, “I’m a bitch, boys, watch out.” What the hell else do you think that pit-bull message was about? That, you were probably shown. You never saw or heard the sweet stuff that came before and after. You know, folks, you have to go to the original source if you want to be fully informed. If you want to remain ignorant, don’t watch TV at all. If you want to be a dupe, listen only to the soundbites from the newscasts.

The lady is a talented actress. The delivery of “You know the difference between a hockey mom and a pit-bull?” was extraordinary. While we waited for the two inevitable, clevery co-joined phrases to follow, she paused, then pointed to her face and said, “Lipstick.” That was it, ladies and gents, guys and gals, the announcement. Her side loved it, you guys didn’t.

I know you didn’t, because you’re telling me you didn’t, and you don’t like me for liking her. You were waiting for the Republican attack dog, and here she is. You should be able to appreciate her as an excellent specimen of the human animal. Just the way we all appreciate Obama: a handsome, winsome man and an awesome orator.

You didn’t like her attack. But you know what? I listened closely, and there is nothing but truth in it. Send me one thing she said that was not true. You can still see the speech, it’s all over the Internet. You can bombard me with the lies she told. But make sure they’re lies, will you? Not truths you don’t like that you call lies.

You didn’t vet your candidate and John McCain didn’t vet his veep. The secrets are coming out, and guess what: Palin’s picadillos up at the Arctic Circle seem to be nothing compared to Barack’s dirty business in the Second City. So the media had a field day with her daughter.

What’s happened, people, is that the losing side, who’d been sitting at home with their heads hanging because they had an old man who was once a war hero competing against a youthful god, woke up! You should too. Check her out, guys: replace those glasses with a tiara, put her in that red and gold corset with that blue, star-studded bottom, and who do you have? Wonder Woman! Wow! Wow!


You Dems are fucking mad. God is supposed to be on your side. He sent down Obama to deliver us from Bush’s bondage. And now this? Well I warned you folks, you really ought to read the Old Testament. God’s a tricky bastard. When his people go astray, he makes deals with their enemies to teach them a lesson.

And what’s this lesson about? It’s about idolatry. You’ve been worshipping a golden calf, so he’s given your enemy a champion, to open your eyes.

And as for you, little lady, you can wait at the Beverly Hilton till I’m ready. I’m sniffing after another bitch.

Palintology

Hey folks

Gotcha selves an eyeful! And now, an earful. This lovely lady – lovely lady number 3, or 4 if you count Cindy, which no one does – pulled a rabbit out from under that big head of hair – an unborn grandchild for the electorate to fight about.

We already saw what a good mother this girl will make when we watched her carry her little Down’s syndrome brother onto the stage while mommy (drum roll) accepted her ticket to ride – on the Straight Talk Express. Didn’t we all murmur how sweet she was? Didn’t we all get a good feeling? Even you?

And look how cleverly it was done. Little Trig is a big boy, and he hid his sister’s “mistake.” Which explains why she clung so tightly to him.

So what’s wrong with it? Daughter stays home to take care of her baby and her baby brother. Maybe she doesn’t go to college to be brow-beaten by her peers into learning to do shots in the dorm and to play beer pong. Will her education suffer? Not if she has Google.

Barack has a different attitude. He said if one of his daughters makes a mistake, he doesn’t want her punished with a baby. Bad phrase for a bundle of joy, Barack. The country is in love with babies right now. Everybody’s got one. Or two, or three. America is on a roll.

And might it not perhaps be better to have your first baby when, pardon me, “God” intended it? A nice healthy seventeen-year-old body is less likely to have an “unusual” baby. And these two will be married before the sex is stale. That can create a true and lasting bond.

Surprise of surprises, the women have rallied around Sarah Palin. They sense the enemy moving in and want to know why it is that men aren’t asked, “Can you manage being a father and holding down a job?” Who says a woman can’t take care of her daughter and her grandchild and all the rest of her brood and still have a life? This is the lady who already proved it can be done. She won us over before we even heard of the little grand-bastard.

The Governor looks like an avatar. With those glasses and that hairdo, like a Librarian from Second Life. Not like a woman with real body parts – the Platonic vision of the woman executive.

The men have already taken off those glasses and taken down that hair, and revealed the runner-up in the contest for Miss Alaska. This gal’s got it all. If that’s not enough, she was voted Miss Congeniality. You know women as well as I do, whether you are one, or you’ve had one. Women do not like pretty women. Pretty women, especially, do not like other pretty women. The phrase they use when confronted with one is, “I hate you.” All in jest, of course. So imagine how hard it would be, not for the ugly duckling of the group, but for the second most beautiful, to be voted Miss Congeniality. She must be congenial indeed.

And for the men who won’t vote for a woman? This one is different. This one is not shaking a finger at them. This one is brandishing a gun big enough to hunt a moose. This one is running every morning, not adding a donut to an already big butt like someone else we know and are afraid of. This one can go one-on-one with Obama on a basketball court. This is a woman who can handle anything. Maybe even you.

Ms. Palin has bipartisan appeal. Did you hate the Bridge to Nowhere? Everybody did. That was supposed to be in her state. She turned the earmark down. Said thanks, if we want a bridge, we’ll build it ourselves. When Alaska shared in record oil profits, she sent them back to the people. She fired a government chef, saying she can make her own sandwiches. Got rid of the government limo saying she likes to drive. What did she do with the jet the state had bought and was paying for? Sold it. On e-bay. (And some of you are worried that John can’t use the Internet. As moot a point now as Barack having no foreign policy credentials. They’ve both got Veeps to cover their blind spots.)

There are plenty of women out there who wanted a woman and were willing to take Hillary even though they couldn’t warm up to her. Now they’ve got a woman they like, and a lot of them are willing to by-pass party affiliations for that. All the lady has to do is go easy on abortions. Maybe take them off the table, so to speak.

Barack already has. He’s essentially said, Lay off the baby business. My mother was eighteen when she had me. He didn’t add, but I heard, “Wouldja like it if I’d been aborted? That might have been a bad mistake.” Like Mary aborting Jesus because he had no daddy.

You never know, folks. If you’re looking at more than the present moment, it’s hard to tell right from wrong.

Is this baby a blessing for McCain? Did it win those women? Has he tapped into their primal selves by producing this age-old situation? It seems to have struck a chord. But maybe it’s just Sarah herself. She’s the first of the candidates who has said anything. And that’s because she’s got something to say.

She’s got more executive experience than all the other three put together. They’ve spent their lives debating, collecting facts, taking positions, and defending them. All they’ve done is make laws, and that’s all they think they have to do. Ms. Palin knows better. She’s had to run the show. A big show. A serious show. In the only frontier state we have left. Alaska has the ocean and the oil wells. Her husband works both, for less annual pay, put together, than a worn-down teacher makes. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the Governor is married to a real man. A man who works with his body as well as his mind. A man some of those men out there – not you – can actually identify with. He is not a lawyer. And neither is his wife.

Sarah Palin has lived most of her life in Alaska, where freedom’s not another word for nothing left to lose. Alaska is a libertarian state. Not that it’s so full of Libertarians, but both the Democrats and the Republicans there understand freedom. The Alaskan conservatives are bigger on personal freedom and the liberals are not so big on big government.

Sarah is someone who has had a life. She is not a career politician. The Democratic party is running two professional politicians. If you’re into change, you have to step away from the parties. McCain has stepped so far away from his that they’ve been bad-mouthing him on talk radio for months. Palin has fought her party and won. These two are as different from their sponsors as they can be and still get counted in the club. If you want more government control over of our lives for the benefit of the fat cats in congress, go with the Democrats. If you want change, here’s the change.

Barack had his big moment in the big arena. It’s all downhill from here. He’s got Resko and the Iraqi billionaire on his program. McCain has a pretty woman who takes on corruption in her own party, who doesn’t give in and can’t be bought off.

Who do you think is going to get a bigger audience in the debates? Obama versus McCain, or Biden versus Palin? I’ll go for the guy and the girl, two people who, if left to their own devices, would tell you the goddam truth. Two people who have remained poor throughout their political lives. Can you imagine how many deals Biden had to turn down to stay pure? How many threats Palin had to ignore to keep going?

Biden would make a great president, and Palin a great Veep. Can’t we skip the main action and go right to Mr. and Ms. Congeniality?

Cagey B.

Beautiful performance, wasn’t it? Beautiful place; even the fireworks were good on-screen. And Barack was magnificent – after he gave you his “narrow message”, which you already knew by heart.

But how many of you, in your ecstasy, were able to read between the lines? Not many, if I know you. And I do. So I’m here to show you where Barack is hiding out on you, so you can get on his tail and find out what his true intentions are.

To begin, he’s going to reward, with lower taxes, the workers and the small businessmen who deserve it. Hear that, guys? Small businessmen. When did they get added? Wasn’t he just for the workers? The small businessmen are the ones who don’t want unions, who don’t like minimum wage, whose fondest hope is to become bigger businessmen. Some of them, in some years, are fortunate enough to fall into the category of the rich. Aren’t those the people who are supposed to be paying more taxes, not less? Barack has been slaloming down a slippery slope and taking you with him. To get the nomination, the slalom was a hard left. To capture the Presidency, it’s a hard right. Will you be able to hang on for the rest of the ride?

In ten years, he’s going to end our dependence on oil from the Middle East. Didn’t the phrase used to be “end our dependence on ‘foreign’ oil”? And wasn’t it, before that, dependence on “fossil fuels”? We’re not being weaned. Barry knows that we’re addicts. We want our oil. We want to guzzle, guzzle, guzzle. And not just in cars, either. How about that ten day cruise to see the wonders of nature? The really efficient QE2 burns 18 tons of fuel per hour. That comes to well over a ton apiece for each of the eighteen hundred guests on an Atlantic crossing.

He’s going to tap our natural gas reserves. Did you hear that? Didn’t you say you don’t want anyone to lay a hand on your planet anymore? What the hell do you think “tap” means? Get out the Novocain. You’re gonna get drilled.

He’s going to give us clean coal technology. Here come the smokestacks, just not quite as black and greasy.

He’s going to find ways to “safely harness nuclear power.” Were you disarmed by the word “safely”? Or is it simply that “nuclear” does not excite the same fear neurons as when the word is pronounced ‘nuke-u-lar’? Baby, you’re being Obamaboozled. You’re getting nukes. You’re getting nukes no matter who gets elected.

In order to provide every child a world-class education, he’s going to make sure every child goes to college. But he’s pulling the wool over your eyes. It isn’t college anymore. It’s only a redefinition of the age at which our students achieve the minimum standard. Everyone is not desirous of “four more years”. Some are not even capable of it. Even now, colleges teach remedial English and remedial math. What they’re trying to remedy is the failure of our high schools. But if you take a peek further back, it fell to the high schools because the elementary schools weren’t getting it done. Ladies and gentlemen, a community college degree is what used to be called a sixth grade education. Barack’s college for everyone will be like finishing the eighth grade.

He’s going to make federal programs cost less. You know what that means? The only way to do that is to fire a whole lot of people. Maybe you. Where’s the commitment to the unions and the working class gone?

“We must keep America’s promise abroad.” Well, what is that promise? A lot of small, helpless countries think that indeed, we are the 911 (no pun intended) of the world. They expect us to come when they cry for help. Barack’s going to do that. He doesn’t like this war in Iraq, but that seems to be the only war he’s got anything against. He’s ready to pour more troops into Afghanistan. A far cry from peace and bringing the boys home. Barack is preparing us for four more years of war. The only “change” is the battlefield.

The Bush administration is all talk on the war on terror. He’s going to do something about it. Sounds like a hawk to me. “I will send our troops into harm’s way with a clear mission…” But he will send them!

He’ll “rebuild the military to meet future conflicts.” The man’s not a fool. He knows there are going to be future conflicts. Do you? Didn’t you think it was going to be pistachio nuts with the Ayatollahs, a cigar with Fidel and Raoul, and vodka shots with Putin? You were banking on Barack to make the lion lie down with the lamb. Ever read the Bible? The old Bible? Here’s a favorite refrain. “Hey, you know those people over the hill who plant and eat and have a lot of stuff because they don’t go to war? Let’s go get ‘em!” Barack’s read the Bible.

“We all put our country first.” You know what that means? You’re going to have to get on board and stop bashing America. I don’t know if you can do it anymore, it’s such a pleasant pastime. But Barack and Michelle are bowing out of the game. Leaving you alone with the tantrums you enjoy so much.

We have to restore our sense of common purpose, he says. Hard to do if you refuse to talk to the other side, and you guys seem very reluctant to reach across the aisle. You’re afraid if you touch a Republican, it might rub off on you.

“We don’t agree on abortion, but …” Isn’t this new? Not so long ago, we had to agree on abortion, or else! And it was supposed to be freely available and federally funded. The sentence ended with “… surely we can agree on reducing the number of unwanted pregnancies in the country.” Hey, that’s what Bush says.

He’s going to uphold the second amendment, which has recently been interpreted as an individual’s right to keep and bear arms. All he’s going to do is keep AK-47’s out of the hands of criminals. This is precisely the NRA position. The laws for keeping AK-47s out of the hands of criminals are already on the books, so all that’s needed is enforcement. Charleton Heston, I am pleased to say, would not be turning over in his grave to hear this news. Barack now supports my right to pack a piece.

Hey, you Gays out there? Did you hear what he said, or were you too busy with your hard-ons? You love him, don’t you? All he’s going to give you is civil amenities, the same as we all have. You can visit your partner in the hospital. You won’t be discriminated against. Neither will you be man and wife.

For immigration, all we have to do is send the babies back home with their mommies, so we don’t have a “mother separated from her infant child.” And, get this – I’m sure you didn’t – he doesn’t want employers undercutting American wages by hiring illegal workers. Bye-bye Nanny, we’re getting an expensive college girl to take care of Baby. And bye-bye gardener, roofer, and lettuce and tomatoes.

He’s going to move people from welfare to work. That means no more slacking off between jobs for you tech people who like to take government supported vacations between gigs. Work is the watchword. Not just for the laid-off factory worker you can’t quite imagine, but you!

“…that American spirit that binds us together in spite of our differences.” You guys are pretty good on black and white, but you stink on Red and Blue. You’re antagonistic, dismissive, or unapproachable. Think about your last encounter with someone on the other side. Either you raised your voice or you never opened your mouth.

“This election has never been about me; it’s about you.” Get that, baby? You’re the one who has to change. You’re the one who has to listen to other points of view instead of closing your ears and spewing rhetoric. You’re the one. He’s a figurehead, that’s all. He’s not going to do it; you are. So let’s see you spin that head of yours around till you can’t see sides, and can only see ideas whizzing by. Grab one of them and see how it grabs you.

No doubt about it, it’s a cagey B. we’ve got. Listen to him closely. Barack’s doing it to you. Like Putin did it to Bush when Bush looked in his heart. He saw what he wanted to see and what Putin wanted him to see. He didn’t see the KGB. And neither do you.

Lovely Lady Leads

On Monday night, the Dems seemed to be having quite a nice party. Who could fault them? I’ll tell you two whos. The media and the Republicans. And with what were they finding fault? The nice, relaxed tenor of the show. They don’t like the party. It’s too restrained. Too childish. Too ice cream and cake. Uncle Teddy and his seventeen godchildren, the progeny of two or three dead brothers. Had to be a Daddy to them all. And still is. Beeootiful Michelle Obama, newly minted, pulling down those basketball shoulders that like to hike up getting ready for the throw. Coiffed and eyebrowed to a tee. And with a smile. A smile, ladies and gentlemen. The camera kept flashing to a lady who must have been her mama, because this lady couldn’t smile at all, even though her daughter is about to become First Lady. No, Sir, this woman can’t let up. The frown is frozen. I thought Michelle’s was too, but I was wrong, and happily so. When Michelle stood up there in front of the huge audience, waiting for her word, the word that can make or break the campaign, what did she do? The girl giggled. Could there be anything more endearing than that? My heart melted. If there’s anything I know, it’s girls, and this was a genuine moment. Quite the opposite of Hill’s false tears.

Between her last furrowed faux pas and now, the lady has learned to act, and we are so, so grateful. Give us more of this kind of dedication. She did it for us. She read some parts of that speech fifty times, and still (except for the “you sees” that should have been deleted before the draft got out) she sounded like this was the first time all this had occurred to her, in exactly this way. She grew excited, emotional, cajoling, confessional, grand, and confiding. It was a fine trip. And she said, “…This is why I love America.” The woman who said she had never been proud of her country until it got smart enough to tap her husband for president. We all heard her say it. It was in all our minds when she flip-flopped. But do we care? Not a whit, because her face was so sweet all through her speech. Perhaps she has responded to our love. Perhaps it’s pure politics. Either way, it’s a bridge Michelle has crossed. You can not stand before America, in a sheath the color of the Caribbean sea, that follows respectfully every curve of your athlete’s body, your stylish hair framing your piquant yet strong face, and hate the country groveling at your feet. You love yourself and you love America for creating you. Not unless America treats her husband the way she treated George Walker Bush, will Michelle ever hate her again. Then she’ll have a reason to develop the same sarcastic, one-sided smile Laura Bush, a woman she very much likes, has perfected – from the inside out. I doubt that she knows she’s done it.

I think that Michelle has been thinking, until now, that she would wake up. That the puppy in the dream was not nestled beside her in bed, that the monkey she bought in the vending machine would turn out to be a figment of her imagination. When she found herself in front of that audience in that gorgeous dress, having been worked on and worked over until she was a piece of art, she knew for the first time, this was reality.

And that should be the end of this post, because that was it for the first three days of the convention. The rest was so old hat it was impossible to stay awake and listen to the playback of tired old stump speeches. McCain was the only person in the country able to keep his eyes open – he was so exhilarated by the boredom his adversaries were propagating. The Dems are winding down. There wasn’t enough money for Hillary’s Botox. Once again, she looked her age – her neck a wreck, eyes bulging – and Shrillery was back! It hurt to hear her straining voice. What happened to the soft-spoken babe who’s been going around campaigning for her competitor these last few weeks?

Bill, as usual, said nothing, but I did notice, when he said it was hard to follow Hill’s wonderful speech, that he actually (literally, as Biden, Beau Biden, and Michelle say, too often and incorrectly) put his tongue in his cheek. Put it right in, and the cameras followed. You could see, in his open mouth, the slimy little devil slide right into his left cheek, and back past you to the right side. Tongue in cheek is obviously a basic biological tick called up when one tells a harmless little lie that everyone knows is a lie.


And he was no better. Neither was Biden. One long speech was written for all of them, then chopped into little pieces and put on the teleprompters for each of the major speakers. The best sight of the second night was when they flashed on Michelle, hair pulled demurely back, in a dress best described as “milkmaid” modern. Tonight, the bridesmaid, not the bride.

After Biden had us down and slumping in our seats, out came Barack. Second best shot of the night, their two backs, with their arms around each other. They looked like twins. But when they turned around, there it was. Chocolate and Vanilla, side by side, just like in an old-fashioned Dixie cup. Remember those, guys? Gotta be pretty damn old. Movie stars inside the big, round cover, under a transparent protective pre-plastic, paperoid protector. Collectibles.

No content in this post, right? That’s because the convention was conventional. There was no content. That was the purpose. Don’t stir up any dust. Just have a vast hall filled with people who boo and applaud out of synch because it takes a while for them to read the signs that tell them what to do, and they can’t tell from what they’re seeing and hearing. They made mistakes.

Mr. McCain I believe is holding his convention in a local McDonalds. So the place to be in the Twin Cities is Ron Paul’s Rally for the Republic. That’s Republic, not Republicans. This is the kickoff for the Campaign for Liberty. An independent endeavor for all you people who liked what Ron was saying before they dismissed him. This, by the way, is a movement that promises change unrelated to our red and blue divide. It’s just down the block from the McDonald’s. See you there! And maybe a lot of the media, too. What better way, as our president might say, to irreleventize McCain, than to go to somebody else’s party, when he’s holding his big bash.