The Rake Magazine

Tag: McCain

  • Country, and Republicans, First

    It was Day 2 of the Republican National Convention and The Rake
    was seated proudly in the "minor local media" section. With CityPages at
    our side, God as our witness and no actual view of the stage, the event was underway. It was quickly apparent that, in solidarity with the folks
    displaced by Hurricane Gustav, the Republicans had blown their announced agenda
    to hell and back, with only two of the originally planned speakers on tap for
    the night. The abbreviated convention also blew a sucking chest wound in the
    plans to highlight a different theme each night – forcing the party planners to
    focus instead on the Convention’s overall theme of "Country First." They
    proceeded to offer up that happily vague phrase, and variations thereof, ad
    nauseum.

    Starting off the night to set the "Country First" tone was John Boehner’s speech on the Great
    Satan that is the Democratic party, conveniently neglecting to mention that the
    pluperfect singularity of economic, diplomatic and social upheaval facing the
    country was engendered just as much by Republican as it was Democrat. Of
    course, much like at last week’s DNC, the delegations thoroughly enjoyed any
    and all mocking of the opposition, offering raucous applause and never once
    wishing they could hear a proper
    taunting as only the French can provide    .

    After Boehner’s speech, the epic notes of "Don’t Stop Believin’" by
    glam rock legends Journey filled the dead air and, as McCain’s theme song, was
    likely intended to fire up delegates and remind them that a year ago their
    presidential nominee’s campaign was dead in the water and beaten by Giuliani in
    the polls like a bad bad donkey. But judging by the choked off laughter, the
    assembled media took it as a reminder to the delegation to keep on drinking the
    Kool-Aid.

    Further compounding attempts to take the proceedings
    seriously was a short montage that truly set the tone for a night consisting of
    speeches by the Democrat who wasn’t, Joe Lieberman, and the only Minnesotan to ever
    hump the leg of a commander-in-chief     – Michelle Bachmann. Perhaps history
    will someday regard the ill-considered words announced with gravitas against
    the backdrop of a stylized Constitution as something other than a phrase taking
    us to a horrific place – "You can’t really see your country. You can’t really
    touch your country. But you can love it." However, it’s all too likely the
    robots will have assumed primacy by then, consigning us to the dark corners of
    the earth, too busy scraping for sustenance to remember the disturbing imagery
    called forth by a gathering of the old world order. And besides, there are far
    too many places in the country that would likely require a visit to Planned
    Parenthood for testing if one was touched by them.

    Sen. Norm Coleman, former mayor of St. Paul, was prevented from making his
    "really good speech" on Monday and took the opportunity to welcome the
    delegates to Pig’s Eye, confusing the hell out of the octogenarian attendees.
    He went on to give a treatise on St. Paul’s history, discussing how
    conservative values built the Xcel center, but stopping just short of launching
    into a heartfelt rendition of Starship’s, "We Built This City".
    Coleman is, of course, in a rather heated battle for one of Minnesota’s Senate seats, so grandstanding
    is to be expected. He also was the first of a long parade of speakers to wax
    rhapsodic about the many sterling qualities of John McCain, culminating in a
    story about Thomas Jefferson’s face and a vagrant on the banks of a river.
    Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t actually a euphemism for oral sex, but rather a long winded and folksy way of saying McCain would face any challenge put in front of him.

    Unfortunately, the "positive spirit of Pig’s Eye" only
    extended to those blessed with the wisdom to join the Republican party. When
    speakers weren’t praying or touting the many wonders of the McCain and Palin
    story, they were blaming the opposition for everything from the national
    deficit to Lindsay Lohan’s recent forays into girl on girl action and punditry.
    Though given how much sense she makes in her political commentary, maybe Ms.
    Lohan is on to something.

    Throughout the rest of the night, speakers took every
    opportunity to point out how John McCain has put country first. That
    conservative values are the only possible way forward for this country. That,
    by the way, John McCain was once a resident at the Hanoi Hilton, and that it’s
    okay for conservatives to love him now that he’s the only option for a Republican
    president. Michelle Bachmann, the insane light of zealotry burning brightly in
    her eyes and clad in a dress that could only be described as Cadbury Mini-Egg
    yellow, delivered her speech as if she thought she was addressing a romper room
    audience. She devoted most of her time on stage to serving as a GOP attack dog,
    telling the arena that good Christian values will guide the country, not the
    government. Sadly, any good points she
    may have made on the importance of avoiding a nanny-state paled in comparison
    to her painful pleas for delegates to come back and visit. "Because we’re nice.
    Really nice. Fucking. Unbelievably. Nice. We’re nice, goddamnit! Why won’t you
    love me?"

    Tellingly, none of the MN delegates would discuss their
    feelings about Rep. Bachmann when asked.

    From then until the keynote speakers for the night – President
    George Bush, Sen. Fred Thompson and Sen. Joe Lieberman – were ready to go, a
    parade of heart wrenching tales and presidential retrospectives rained forth
    from the sound system. The obligatory deification of Ronald Reagan, tales of
    Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders, a crass attempt at co-opting the story of
    a Navy SEAL who threw himself on a grenade to save the rest of his team in Iraq
    and was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor – these were the most offensive
    moments of the night. Country First may be the theme of the convention, but
    when politics trump the country’s history and American heroes are used to
    strengthen a political agenda, it’s obvious the country isn’t foremost in
    anyone’s thoughts.

    Oh, and by the way, has anyone ever told you that John
    McCain was a POW?

    Following these crass examples of political opportunism, our
    fearless leader made an appearance via satellite, emphasizing the disagreements
    he’s had through the years with John McCain, conveniently neglecting to mention
    the smear campaign in 2000 that left the esteemed maverick senator from Arizona feeling like so
    much roadkill. Roadkill with an illegitimate
    black baby    .

    Fred Thompson was up next, his experience as an actor
    shining through as he flowed easily from jowl-shaking recrimination against
    liberals and their media lapdogs to holding Sen. McCain aloft on a pedestal and
    thanking him for not only serving his country, but also for forgiving the sins
    of man, starring in a Tony-award winning Broadway musical that convinced
    homosexuals that they didn’t have the right to marry after all, and was the man
    who gave the reverse
    cowgirl     to the world. The
    former New York prosecutor     owned that crowd. Not only were his words treated
    as if they were carved in stone and handed down by Moses, but whispers of "He’s
    not so cute, but I’d totally do him" drifted down like so much J.Lo-branded
    perfume from the assembled group of MILFs and Stepford Wives in the gallery
    behind the press stand.

    Which made it all the more sad that Sen. Joe Lieberman had
    to follow that act. Not only did it seem as if the Xcel Center had suddenly
    been transported into an alternate dimension in which Lieberman wasn’t the VP
    nominee for one of the Republican party’s
    ultimate evils     back in 2000, the senator from CT has never displayed a
    knack for oratory, and being the only Democrat on the speaking agenda brought
    him nothing but wary stares and baffled looks as he proceeded to name check
    Clinton and not curse Obama’s name to the heavens while lavishing praise upon
    his good friend John McCain. Sen. McCain certainly wouldn’t think of providing Sen. Lieberman with
    a cabinet position, thus providing a method to his madness, right?

    And throughout the show, while speaker after speaker
    thundered and railed against "the angry left" and positioned the GOP ticket as
    the second coming of Buddha, Christ, and P.T. Barnum in one neat little package
    with a moose-hunting cherry on top, they failed to note one interesting fact –
    they somehow managed to take the Xcel Energy Center, a nearly brand new arena
    with some of the best acoustics in the nation, and make it sound stunningly
    crappy. If that’s not an intriguing metaphor for the events of the last eight
    years, I’m not sure what is.

  • Protest Music for the New Millenium

    (Todd Smith already wrote this article)

    On stage, Steve Earle led the crowd in a sing-a-long of "Steve’s Hammer (for Pete)" – a song that picks up on that parenthetical Pete (Seeger)’s "If I Had a Hammer," from 1949.

    "I’m gonna say a line, and you’re gonna repeat it back to me," Earle said. "And none of the just-mouthin’-the-words stuff. I grew up in a Methodist church, and I know all about that shit."

    The audience, in attendance for the 1st Annual Take Back Labor Day Festival at Harriet Island, acquiesced to Earle’s demands. Hippies and hipsters, whole families and lone children, organizers in support of workers’ rights and apolitical groupies who came just to see their favorite bands – everyone yelled the musician’s lyrics back at him. Though there were fourteen-year-olds in the front row who’ve probably never even had a job yet, everyone was eager to add their own energy to the day’s momentum.

    Later, just across the Mississippi River, more than 280 protestors would be arrested for varying degrees of felonies, and a faint stench of tear gas would linger in the city’s grass. There would be a bomb threat on the Roberts Street Bridge. A man in the center of downtown St. Paul’s labyrinth-like riot gates would stand in a spotlight, preaching salvation, though no one would listen. Hidden speakers would blare "Danger Zone" throughout the metropolis.

    Now, though, at the concert, people sat cross-legged in the sun, and others kicked around a hackey-sack, and Steve Earle alternately played songs and lamented Woody Guthrie’s absence.

    The quietest presences were those backstage. During Earle’s set, a number of Iraq Veterans Against the War milled about, partaking of the festival’s various fried foods and texting friends on their cell phones. Some listened to the music, but none sang along. Certainly they seemed to be enjoying themselves, but they were distanced somehow from the celebration.

    "We came as part of a group of veterans to the DNC and RNC, to address issues affecting vets," said Eddie Falcon, who served four tours – two in Iraq, two in Afghanistan – as well as helping out in post-Katrina New Orleans. He was dressed in a black tank top, silver dog tags hanging loosely over the cloth. "We want all occupying forces out of Iraq and Afghanistan – you know, just, ‘troops home now’ – and we want full benefits for veterans. There are a lot of things that happen back home: PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), suicide, depression, alcoholism…and a lot of veterans aren’t getting the help they need."

    It’s strange and disturbing to think that of all the people gathered under the aegis of Taking Back Labor Day, the people enlisted by our government to protect our country are some of the most mistreated by their employers.

    In about forty-five minutes, when Tom Morello would be finishing his set with a rendition of Woody Guthrie’s "This Land is Your Land" (subversive lyrics reinstated), Falcon and his twenty or so peers on stage would pump their fists during the chorus and jump like they were listening to Kris Kross. Backstage, though, they were subdued, maybe accustomed to explaining their difficult positions to the media. Low-key as they seemed, though, they were very aware that they were under threat of arrest.

    Last week at the DNC in Denver, the group – then reportedly comprised of more than sixty vets – enacted Operation First Casualty, which, Falcon explained, was a piece of guerrilla-style theater.

    "With that we were bringing the war home," he said. "We dressed in our full fatigues, and had planted allies throughout the city, and we would detain them, handcuffing them and masking them in the middle of the crowd, to simulate what happens every day in Iraq."

    Then a group of veterans composed a letter listing demands they wanted to present to Obama’s campaign. They marched, Morello explained during his set, through the streets of Denver, and as they got closer and closer to the convention’s headquarters, a group of policemen in full riot gear began to block their path.

    That’s the absurd thing, isn’t it? That war veterans could get arrested during what really was a peaceful, even pacifist event – back home in the U.S.

    But the vets were undeterred. Eventually their letter was delivered and, Morello said, the dialogue with the Democratic Party will continue.
    In St. Paul the vets drafted a similar missive for the McCain camp. "Our First Sergeant got an escort through St. Paul to see McCain and bring him the letter," Falcon said. "But McCain declined to come out."

    During the latter half of the show, when the music shifted from Steve Earle-style folk rock to rap, the veterans began congregating on the wings of the stage. They danced along to Atmosphere, Mos Def, and The Pharcyde. The terms ‘PTSD’ and depression resounded in the mind – diseases that by definition set one apart form larger society. The vets had backstage passes, were touring with the musicians, and jamming on the set, but one wonders when, if ever, they’ll be able to re-join the larger crowd.

  • Get the #Q)*?!#$ Off My Lawn

    On the well-manicured lawn that is the Democratic primary,
    there resides a two large groups of little old men shouting epithets at
    one another, screaming for "these kids" to get
    the fuck off their lawn    .

    Sadly, these arthritic individuals aren’t Edina’s most senior residents, as one might
    expect of these wizened figures glowering at any who would dare trespass on
    their pristine grass. No, these crotchety creatures shaking their fists at one
    another are the splintered remnants of the once proudly unified Democratic
    party. Now, after months of spewing bile and vitriol in the most closely fought
    primary in U.S.
    election history, the party is split – a camel toe on the hot pants of American
    politics, if you will.

    One group sides with the party’s Luke Skywalker – Barack
    Obama. With the Force as his guide and a lightsaber wit he has
    systematically thwarted the ambitions of his opposition in most states without
    a reputation for incest or goat
    love    . Up until a few months ago, Hillary Clinton was the presumptive
    nominee – basking in the collective adulation of the left-hand of American
    politics with a nigh-unbelievable midichlorian count. Now she has been pushed off her pedestal and is seeking to parlay her
    grip on America’s crotch into a last
    desperate hope for a presidential nod.

    Regardless of who is eventually chosen as the Democratic
    nominee, the party is in trouble. With a significant percentage of each
    candidates’ saying they’d
    never vote for the other    , what used to look like a potential majority in
    congress along with a nigh-certain seat in the Oval Office, complete with
    nubile interns ready to provide service with a smile, is turning into a potential tossup if
    Democrats embittered by the primary stay home or vote Green. Minnesota is a prime example of this phenomenon, with thousands of Obamites crying for blood in the event of what now looks like an unlikely Hillary win.

    Normally, this all or nothing mentality would seem to be
    something to be respected, or at least be a compelling argument for instant
    runoff voting    . And I have nothing but admiration for those who are willing
    to shoot themselves in the foot to take a stand against a cause they believe to
    be immoral. However, in this case it’s not shooting themselves in the foot so
    much as it is packing their collective rectum with C-4 and handing the
    detonator to the Evil
    Midnight Bomber What Bombs at Midnight    .

    Voting Green isn’t equated with explosive asses as a general
    rule, but those are the stakes set by Democrats this year. According to
    virtually every one of them, this next election is the one that will determine
    the country’s position on the world stage – a plausible theory given that
    Canadian money is now as valuable as the U.S. dollar. If that’s not a sign of America’s
    pending doom, what is? But why is such a significant percentage of Hillary
    Clinton and Barack Obama’s supporters so willing to throw away the chance to
    set the direction of the country for years to come when the candidates’
    policies bear incredible similarities, especially when stacked up against the
    Republican competition?

    The bottom line is that the entire election campaign has consisted
    of talk about the necessity of change, about change for the better, about the
    country being unable to afford four more years of the same failed foreign
    policy. So why are so many Democrats already so bitter that they’ve made up
    their minds before the chosen candidate, whoever it may be, has a chance to
    make his or her platform known without getting a Democratic donkey punch
    after every speech – thus risking the very change they claim to want more than
    a sweaty night on a circle
    bed     with Scarlet Johansson and the winners of The
    Rake’s Most Beautiful People at the Capitol contest    ?

  • John McCain Nude – 64 Results

    It was on the far right, literally. A tiny block of space someone had purchased to help The Rake live another day. Pay up, and you can paste your sign/add your link/sing your song on my web page/television/telephone/window/door/floor/car/bus/butt/etc…

    In
    the ultimate capitalist pervasion of everyday life, this heat-seeking
    piranha of an ad jumped at me, propelled by the finely tuned instincts
    of specialized software, somewhere in cyberspace, sensing Barack
    Obama’s name on the page and inferring from it the presence of
    intellectual prey.

    There I was, and there it was, so close:

    "The Real Barack Obama (link) The truth behind the canditate (sic)" – "Barack Obama Exposed – Free!" (with another link)

    I hesitated. The piranha bit down hard. I clicked!

    …and could almost feel the blood rush:

    "From
    his radical stance on abortion to his prominence in the corruption
    scandals that has been virtually ignored by the mainstream media,
    Barack Obama is not fit to be Senator — not to mention the next
    President of the United States. Obama has declared his presidential
    intentions, but it is up to well-informed and energetic conservatives
    like you to spare our nation from the scourge of a far-left President
    Barack H. Obama."

    Presidential
    politics is the grand stage of the most aggressive promoters, the
    truest believers. Neglect their theater and they will seek you out,
    seek to turn you out. I slept through the 2004 and 2000 elections. Even
    now, I was placidly detached. But this impassioned gnome of an ad leapt
    from the stage, snatched me from the placid pages of an innocent,
    literate webzine, and forced me, drove me, deep into its chosen thicket
    of passion and intrigue.

    I was in the hunt. I clicked a link, then another, and got:

    "It
    must be just me! I mean, does anyone else see the lying racist? The
    Obamination of this country is about to walk right into the Democratic
    nomination and no-one is doing a damned thing about it! PEOPLE…Obama
    hates this nation and WHITE people! HELLO! Is anyone out there? Are you
    folks so stupid and blind that it is already over? Is America already
    doomed from the inside out? Was President Lincoln correct when he said
    this nation will only be defeated from within?! Jesus people…can’t
    you see what is happening here? Wake up! The man will not cover his
    heart during the National Anthem…oh god…I could go on forever!"

    Hokey
    smoke! From clever, benign, literacy to full frontal attack in three
    clicks. I recalled twentieth century sites affixing Bill Clinton’s name to
    the legends of dead people, many legends, many dead people – the
    Clinton Body Count, they called it. One page had animated graphic blood dripping down the sides. I
    remembered admiring the enthusiasm (and the graphics!) more than the
    argument. Had I convinced myself that towering invective was unique to
    Bill? The question begged for investigation.

    I enlisted Google.

    "Barack Obama exposed" brought 38,500 Google "results". Oh, my! A huge number. But compared to what? I tried for context.

    "Hillary
    Clinton exposed" scored 12,600 pages, a bare third of Obama’s total; "John McCain exposed" an almost negligible 2,350. It’s an Obama
    phenomenon. But why?

    My
    brain churned through the usual suspects. Is the web’s free wheeling
    candor a cultural Petri dish, nurturing explosions of racist bacteria?
    Does Obama’s generic celebrity merit the poisonous paparazzi pursuit of
    Paris or Britney? Are the White Knights of the Right so certain of
    their enemy that they write off Hillary as a dead woman walking?

    Or
    was I, naive in the ways of The Web, missing the connotation of
    "exposed"? Perhaps it’s that Obama is, how to put this delicately, hot?
    I tried something else.

    "Barack Obama nude" brings 725 results, but "Hillary Clinton nude" launches 21,200 pages.

    Aha! The light goes on. Sealing the deal, "John McCain nude" scores a pitiful 64. That’s it!

    It’s
    about testosterone. The Bad Old Surfer Dudes want to see women naked
    and new kids trashed. What about McCain? 64 "results" close that
    question. Nobody cares about the old guy. He’s not a threat.

    I’d
    like to think elections are about ideas and principles, about who would
    do the best job. But there’s waaaay more than that. Frank Luntz
    theorizes it’s about talking to the reptilian brain: "80 percent of our life is emotion, and only 20 percent is intellect." I think I’ve found supporting evidence.

  • Pawlenty's Spandex-Clad Aspirations

    Every hero needs a sidekick. Tombstone had Hammerhead, Batman had Robin, Thundarr the Barbarian
    had Princess Ariel and Ookla, and Paris Hilton had everyone. Repeatedly. Now,
    in the twilight years of his life, John McCain yearns for the same sort of
    comforting companionship that comes from a bosom buddy who can double as an
    effective lackey in a pinch. And while recommendations for this coveted
    position have streamed in from the furthest corners of the United States and beyond, some say
    the baleful eye of the GOP’s very own
    Methuselah     has come to rest in the Land of 10,000 Lakes.

    Several names are being bandied about as potential choices
    for McCain’s VP/life insurance policy, however Minnesota governor Tim Pawlenty has been
    near or at the top of every one. And why wouldn’t he be? Our governor brings
    suburban good looks, boyish charm that has consistently delivered astronomical
    approval ratings despite nigh-constant legislative gridlock and the chance to
    gain an edge in a state that hasn’t been in electoral play since Nixon in 1972.
    So what if he lacks a sense of humor and we all shift uncomfortably in our
    seats when he makes any sort of sexual
    reference    ? The fact remains that Gov. Pawlenty has known McCain for nearly
    30 years and is rather well liked in the hallowed halls of GOP power brokers –
    giving pundits across the country a chance to look down their noses, shuffle
    papers, and expound endlessly on the subject, coming to the inevitable
    conclusion that Pawlenty is the man for the job.

    And why am I different from those pundits? Well, I swear
    rather often, I’m more misanthropic, and I have a demonstrated appreciation
    for     boobs.

    So, while Gov. Timmy prepares to veto the recently passed
    education bill, which he warned the legislature not to if they ever wanted to
    see their precious Central Corridor, ever again, the unrelenting discussion
    spews forth from cable news networks and online media whenever there’s a break
    in the unspeakable clusterfuck that is the contest between Barack Obama and
    Hillary Clinton. Who will be McCain’s running mate? The
    Washington Post         was so desperate for news this past Sunday that they
    even wrote a top five list of potential candidates. Of course, since no one
    really has much clue what sort of decisions Sen. Senility hath wrought, some of
    the candidates listed for the position of Senate tiebreaker and chief
    presidential bootlicker stretched the bounds of plausibility and entered the
    realm of OMGWTFLOLBBQ.

    Take #5 for example – Mitt Romney. Not only was he exposed
    during his campaign for the presidency as an overly-ambitious, ego-driven
    lackwit, but this political chameleon with more hair gel than neurons has one
    central roadblock preventing him from merrily prancing down the road to sipping
    kiddie
    cocktails     at McCain’s side in the White House (aside from that whole
    general election thing) – Johnny despises him. Loathes him with the heat of
    1,000 suns, even. And since Mr. McCain already likely feels the encroaching
    doom of his mortality quite keenly, he’s not likely looking to give Romney a
    job that’s but one ninja throwing star away from the presidency.

    In any case, if Pawlenty does get the nod as the
    presidential sidekick, the bigger question is whether he’d accept the
    unflattering spandex outfit and wacky
    catchphrases     that are often the job’s sad requirement. And why would he?
    For the last two legislative sessions he’s made the DFL dance to his
    machinations, and in just a few more years he may be able to run for the
    presidency against Barack Obama. A few more years, and a possible withdrawal
    from Iraq,
    would do wonders to further divorce him from the Bush legacy – which is,
    without a doubt, the 250lb transvestite hooker with questionable immigration
    status pounds on the door of virtually every GOP campaign event, demanding the
    money for last night.

    And if Pawlenty doesn’t accept, it’d be quite sad for
    McCain’s Straight Talk Express. Tears would flow as the campaign staffers
    realize that Minnesota’s desperation for
    recognition on a national level – the same desperation that leads the state to
    lay claim to celebrities with tenuous Minnesota ties at best
    – won’t work in their favor this election cycle.

    But really, who are we kidding? How often does the office of
    the vice presidency get offered to a man? Here we have a savvy politician with
    ambition and a hunger to reduce Democrats to groveling and simpering lumps of
    flesh, fighting for scraps from the very government they should be controlling.
    Would he say no to his Great American Hero? Would he defy the call to arms?
    Could he resist the siren song of this real life Captain America,
    forswearing the clinging spandex and short shorts of the sidekick, possibly
    forever? Could he resist the temptation of vice presidential booty calls given
    that Mary has denied him her womanly charms for so long, so very long?

    I say thee nay.

  • A+B=WTF

    On Wednesday, April 30, 2008, Sen. John McCain jumped the
    shark.

    Now, I’ve got a lot of respect for the man. He’s always been
    something of a straight shooter. And when a man spends time in a POW camp and
    can’t raise his arms above his shoulders as a result, I’m inclined to cut the
    guy some slack. But in a campaign stop in Pennsylvania yesterday, McCain claimed that pork
    barrel spending caused the 35W bridge to fall down go boom    . Pork barrel
    spending didn’t cause the bridge to fall. All reports up until now point to
    trade school engineers from the 60s who were likely too baked to carry the
    damn one. And given how commonly politicians have taken the "If I say it, it
    must be true" approach this campaign season, I would’ve much rather watched the
    GOP’s candidate for president actually jump the Mississippi on a
    motorcycle     than listen to a man formerly known for candid statements trying to score political points by holding court whilst spewing
    forth a toxic slurry of obfuscating crap that would rival the noxious sludge at
    the bottom of the Mississippi itself.

    But why do candidates feel so comfortable hocking these
    juicy loogies of misinformation at us? They know that the words
    tumbling forth from their forked tongues are simply a devious combo of smoke,
    mirrors, and sweet pandering nothings that smoothly caress the genitalia of
    their base constituencies, thus lulling them deeper into a bullshit-induced
    trance, right? Most blame television for forcing politicians to compress complicated
    issues into easy to digest bites. TV conditioned people to want
    their news spoon-fed – meaning whoever screams the loudest with the most glib
    sound bite generally is regarded as the prophet of truth. This applies even when the person screaming the loudest is the crazy fucker having a dance
    party in his underwear in front of Block E.

    But the honest truth is that the blame for the sorry state
    of affairs that is the American political system falls squarely on the eagerly
    nodding culture whores known as American citizens. It’s us. We’re the reason Jeremiah
    Wright’s sermons make such effective weapons in a campaign. It’s our fault John
    McCain feels justified in using the deaths of 13 Minnesotans to make an
    unrelated point about earmarks. And it’s my own damn fault I’m wondering why Al Franken
    couldn’t find a nice Jewish uncle to keep his books. We’ve become a
    society of listless zombies who claim to be too busy to understand the issues
    at hand, but also refuse to devote any of that precious time to information
    that may contradict opinions or worldviews developed by listening to the chorus of malformed mewling
    creatures     polluting the public dialogue.

    Make no mistake, it is pollution. Yes, Rev. Jeremiah Wright
    said "God damn America."
    In fact, he danced on the altar while a chorus of seraphim drifted down from
    the heavens to sing those very words in a bawdy sea chanty written by the
    Archangel Gabriel himself. It doesn’t matter all that much though, since Wright isn’t
    running for president. Plus, it’s highly unlikely that, should Sen. Obama be
    elected the next president, he’ll take punitive steps against white America.
    Steps like outlawing rugby, New Balance sneakers, Volvos, Joe Mauer and his thrice-damned sideburns or any of the other ridiculous crap we fetishize. But because we’ve spent the
    last two months with politicians and pundits alike regurgitating bile and
    chunky bits of flag-waving rhetoric, Sen. McCain’s health care proposal hasn’t
    gotten the coverage, or scrutiny, it deserves. The lack of details in Sen.
    Obama’s plan hasn’t exactly been called out as a particular failing either. And
    because we’ve been too busy obsessing over what appears to be an innocuous
    accounting mistake on Al Franken’s part, no one has taken the time to marvel at
    the profound stupidity of Hillary Clinton staging
    a press event at a gas station     to demonstrate just how in touch with the
    plight of the common man she truly is while advocating for a gas tax
    holiday     that would save the average American about $30 over three months.

    A well-informed populace is vital to the operation of a
    democracy, according to our slave-owning, and banging, founding father Thomas
    Jefferson. And sad to say, we’re not well-informed. We’re well-indoctrinated. So we debate over whether Obama is,
    in fact, an Islamo-fascist for not wearing a flag lapel pin. We fight over whether McCain’s
    "senior moments" are the result of campaign trail exhaustion or a sign that
    he’ll be in Depends
    before his second term. And we shiver in fear as we wonder whether Hillary Clinton is a creature risen from the
    grave by sheer force of will, determined to win the presidency in order to
    secure access to the delicious babies necessary to sustain her unholy semblance
    of life. And all of that pointless noise pollution goes a long way toward explaining why, in the midst of this
    interminable, abominable election season, our status as one of the greatest and most influential superpowers
    this world has ever known can now be summarized in just under two minutes by Grand Theft Auto IV’s Serbian protagonist –
    Nico Bellic.

  • Fiscal Lubrication

    For those of you lulled into complacency by auspicious
    recent events such as Britney’s brief
    flirtation     with lucidity, it’s important to note that, not only is the
    entertainment industry still pumping out fucking loons
    at a heretofore unheard of pace, but our politicians are providing ample
    evidence of a world view so profoundly divorced from reality that it’s likely
    only a matter of a few short days until Gov. Pawlenty declares "Blame it on the
    Rain"     our state song and Speaker of the House Margaret Kelliher declares her
    undying love for Michelle Bachmann’s fabulously taut ass. In other words, take
    heed, Minnesota denizens, for the Oh Shit meter has gone from a subdued puce to
    an alarming ochre.

    And what has triggered these dire portents? What could
    possibly be serving as the harbinger for yet another pending apocalypse? The
    answer is disarmingly, deceptively simple – nothing more, or less, than the
    overwhelming demonstration of the profound stupidity endemic to all levels of
    our representative democracy.

    These portents have appeared at a furious pace as of late. John McCain’s assertion that Purim is
    the Jewish Halloween    , thus disappointing a highly influential voting block
    as they continue a hallowed tradition of offering a big "Fuck you" to yet
    another culture that tried to annihilate them, was only the beginning. And Dick
    Cheney’s apparent pleasure at providing a big
    "Fuck you"     to the American public as polls indicated two-thirds of
    Americans disapprove of the war in Iraq was just a cherry on top of the mountain of asshattery displayed whilst our policy-makers grandstand and
    pontificate on how best to take advantage of the economic reaming the average
    American feels
    they are about to receive    .

    To address the assembled citizenry’s fervent desire for
    fiscal lubricants to ease the anticipated pain, Obama and Clinton
    have released their economic stimulus and oversight plans. McCain, of course,
    is standing pat, toeing the GOP line as he has for the last few years and
    stating that the check going out to taxpayers in May, not to mention the tax
    breaks for businesses that will surely convince them to invest in added
    infrastructure while consumers aren’t buying anything, is plenty to arouse the
    economy and stimulate a good old-fashioned consumer orgy.

    What baffles me, however, is that the plans put forth by
    these august candidates are, for the most part, predicated on becoming
    president despite all three having plenty of legislative power. And since statistically, recessions are generally over within a year to a
    year and a half, meaning any fiscal policy levied after scoring the presidency
    won’t take effect until January of 2009. Much like downing the morning after
    pill nine months after the condom breaks, that’s long after it could possibly
    do any good.

    Then you might think to yourself, "At least our local
    legislators, staunch realists like Marty Seifert and the Iron Range’s Tom "The
    Sex Hog" Saxhaug, are carefully balancing Minnesotan needs against the harsh
    reality of the budget deficit threatening our government services and
    benefits". If you were harboring such thoughts, you may want to relieve
    yourself of them via repeated
    blows to the cranium     with a blunt object, since you’d be laughably wrong. To
    address the state’s approximately $1 billion deficit, GOP legislators offered a program
    of cuts to higher education, dips into the state’s rainy day fund, and
    bizarrely, a token tax cut to make Minnesotans feel better about the panty raid
    Gov. Pawlenty proposed on the state’s health care access fund and budget reserves. DFLers universally
    derided the deficit fix, calling the proposal shortsighted and damaging. House
    Majority Leader Tony Sertich went so far as to say, "Everyone knows people from
    Eagan are twats. And Tim Pawlenty is a twat among twats. The alpha and the omega of twats, if you will."

    One might imagine the DFL, after such an ideological salvo,
    would come back with a solution to the state’s budget woes. A solution that
    would salvage programs to salve the economic doldrums afflicting our state’s
    citizens whilst securing Minnesota’s solvency for the biennium and beyond.
    Sadly, it seems we’ll sooner see Michelle Bachmann in an Amsterdam donkey show
    than have a budget proposal that actually addresses the real issues facing the
    state. The budget that the DFL’s greatest financial minds came back with dips
    even further into the rainy day fund. And while the $23 million in extra
    education spending is nice, the proposal doesn’t provide any details on the
    program cuts necessary to cover that spending. Nor did they make any attempt at ensuring solvency in the next biennium. Much like the Pawlenty
    administration and inflation, reality and the DFL have never quite meshed.

    Frighteningly enough, the group we must look toward for
    fundamental change in our fiscal policy is the Bush administration. They’ve
    bailed out Bear Stearns despite outcry from left and right, thus avoiding a
    repeat of the market crash that triggered the Great Depression. And we’ve
    already seen some small changes – allowing the Federal Reserve and treasury
    some additional oversight of investment houses and mortgage originators. But
    more meaningful changes, changes that will allow the hand of government to wrap
    itself around the balls of America’s financial system and give a great tug when
    necessary are not yet forthcoming. Can an administration that has spent the vast
    majority of its time in Washington on a ranch in Crawford, TX or up its own ass
    aggressively move to create meaningful legislation? Can a man whose sole method of
    reassuring the public that the economy is in good hands consists of letting us all know
    the government worked over the weekend     actually trigger substantive change?

    Yeah, I know. We’re fucked. But I, for one, welcome our new
    Chinese overlords, and will enjoy receiving the benevolent treatment afforded
    all China’s provinces    .

     

     

  • Pawlenty as McCain's running mate?

    Well. Pawlenty is a great governor in the same way that Bush is a great president.

    Dave Walbridge, WSP
    Letter