November 3, 2008 - October 27, 2008
Monday, October 29, 2007
...But does anyone
was an ordinary Joe. Unless he wasn't.
Yeah, yeah. Patriots. Perfect season. Boring. How many of you
really enjoy watching a steamroller leveling asphalt? Message to NFL
fans. What's truly inspiring isn't the best agglomeration of players
money can buy. It's the team that overcomes adversity to win the big
prize against all odds.
Here's a scenario you can sink your teeth into. An NFL team starts like
a house afire and after the first five games has a 4-1 record. Mission
accomplished. Or well on the way. You know how that goes. Six games
later, they're 6-5. Losers on a one-way trip to oblivion.
Who wouldn't be bummed? Their fans were outraged. Both of the U.S.
Senators from California -- yes, kiddies, we're talking about the 49ers
-- were, well, pessimistic. One said, "The season is lost. There's
absolutely no way this team is going to the playoffs. I support the
players, but it's time to fire all the coaches and start a long-term
rebuilding program." The other said, "Californians have been lied to.
We were told this team was a contender, a winner. Obviously, they
aren't. They're total losers. An utter disgrace. Anyone who supports
the players -- as I absolutely and unequivocally do -- must demand that
the few talented members of the team be benched for the rest of the
season so that no one worthwhile gets injured in a losing cause."
The rest is, as they say, history. The 1988 San Francisco 49ers went on
to win four of their last five games, the divisional playoff, the NFC
Championship, and the Super Bowl. You can see their record here
Along the way, most of their fans rejected the official condemnations
of their senators. They had faith. In fact, they enjoyed the season far
more than Patriots fans are enjoying this
Is there a lesson? Of course not. The NFL has nothing to do with real
Unless it does.
The New American
. According to some, Boston is the birthplace of America.
It's where they had that big tea party the Brits weren't invited to,
because if you're invited to a tea party in Boston you'd better be
somebody important like a Kennedy or a Kerry or some other rich
immigrant from lowlifeland who has more money than God and therefore
knows how the rest of us poor schlubs should live.
There are no accidents. There's only an endless chain of symbolic
events. The World Series and the unfolding season of the New England
Patriots demark a New American Way consistent with the the
most ancient traditions of a city which always turned up its nose at
common virtues like hard work, quiet accomplishment, and unassuming
perseverance. In Boston, life comes down to the simple question of
who's better than everyone else and who can send the strongest and most
ineluctable message about that betterness to the hoi polloi.
That's why the new American Way is about sweeps
. Win fast or don't play at
all. Yes, you can toy with the real losers -- like anybody from
Cleveland -- but there isn't anybody who doesn't know you were better
than them before the competition even got started. When the chips are
finally on the table, you've got to win, win, win, win or else the
trogs will suspect you're not divine. Maybe not the trogs of the mass
media, who always
were divine and rooted for you shamelessly throughout, but definitely the
trogs who have been taught to quit as soon as their celebrity faves
begin to sweat with something like effort.
the Sox to sweep
and the Patriots to go undefeated. Because in the New American Way,
what's most important is trusting the better ones to ride herd on the
ordinary ones through a display of raw talent, the rawer the better.
Raw talent always seems
democratic, even when it's anything but. That's always been the Boston
Way.. Thank goodness it's finally infiltrating the rest of the country.
The New American Hero. Slob Appeal.
Utopia has been achieved when the ordinary folk begin to believe they
can identify with raw talent by imitating the raw part. We're there.
Now that we have slob superheroes, you too can be a superhero simply by
being a slob. The winning part is easy. That's why they call it a
sweep. And if anyone can see you sweat, it's time to bug out and find a
new venue better made for slobs.
Long live the Red
You knew her.
You really did.
(Unless you're not 50)
buttons, bad hair, and a worse attitude.
CAN WE TALK?
not the prospect of a female president that's unacceptable. (I'd have
voted for Jeane
if she'd run.) It's the prospect of this
female as president. Even
women know there are nasty women who can't be trusted. Hillary
isn't just an example of the nasty woman type, she's an archetype. They
were absolutely everywhere in the sixties, and everyone knew who they
were. Fortunately, there aren't as many of them around now. Which is
both good and bad. The
problem is, you have to be almost as as old as Hillary is to know who she really
For example, this picture is meaningless or misleading to everyone
under the age of 50:
She wasn't a rapscallion hippie rebel, full of fun and hormones. She was an arid Wellesley communist. She wore ugly shoes. She had no sense of humor. She was absolutely without charm. She smiled only because
people expected it. She thought intelligence was about grades and board
scores. She knew she was the smartest person she'd ever met. She didn't
know that all the most charming and intelligent people avoided her.
Except the ones who knew they could use her. She knew she was an ugly
duckling, but she never connected that perception with behaviors and
attitudes she could have changed. She was a bitch, whether you were
male or female. When she didn't know she was being photographed, she
looked like this:
The only guys who ever wanted to have sex with her were sick in the
head. They wanted to rape her, to spew their contempt, hatred and rage
deep inside her. She extrapolated from her experience of such men a
the male sex that had nothing to do with reality. She learned to want
the kind of power that can subjugate men and neutralize the charm of
both men and women. She married the charm she most feared and hated,
because she intended to use what she didn't have and work toward the
personal victory of seeing her own obsession triumph over what she
despised and envied most. No man has ever given her an orgasm. This is
not because she lacks passion. It's because she won't give them
the satisfaction of seeing her lose control.
But she's not a Lesbian either. In fact, she loathes women. Because
they are so susceptible to the irrational feelings they experience in
their breasts and cunts. She has those feelings, too, but she has
learned to redirect them. Her only aphrodisiac is power. You'd think
she'd be uncomfortable in photo opportunities like this, but she
actually relishes them.
Using women makes her feel more like a man. She understands her
husband's contempt for women because it mirrors her own. Not that she
wants to be a man. She doesn't. Her ultimate ambition is to be without
sex, as pure an expression of odorless power as Stalin, Hitler, Mao, or
Ch'in. She has a reproduction of Hatshepsut, the only female pharaoh,
in her living quarters. But she does want her daughter to regard her as
a father. The psychological implications of this desire are almost
infinite, but she doesn't think about them.
In short, if you're 50+, you know her. You met her in college, avoided her like the plague, and
afterwards you pretended she didn't exist -- for your whole adult life. But she does exist.
And she's even worse than the stereotype that dwells unexamined in your
Do you really want her as an American President?
What plans are you making?
[h/t to Michelle Malkin
for the pictures.]
A camisole would be appropriate, at
the very least.
I don't. I'm getting ready. But my readiness plans are all about hiding
for eight years. I don't hate her, but I'm pretty sure she hates me. I
think it might be time to get scarce.