December 29, 2009 - December 22, 2009
Some CBS reporter has really screwed the pooch this time:
More than enough said. There's one cowboy who will never work again.
I see that CountryPunk is trying to cheer everyone up. That's fine. Be
cheered up. Keep thinking you're going to pull a rabbit out of the hat
till the first Tuesday in November proves otherwise. I'm fine with that.
It's just that I know it's over now. This wonderful country is blind drunk on Obama and they're not going to wake up remorseful until a few months into his tragically sorry-ass administration. That's the way it is. I'm already getting used to it. And I respectfully suggest that you start getting used to it, too.
There are a lot of reasons why he's going to win. I'm going to list a few of them because knowing them might arm you for what you'll be facing next. I'm not trying to depress you. But the facts of the matter are depressing. Sorry. But you deserve to know the truth, even if it's shattering.
1. Half the citizens in this country pay no federal income tax. They have the vote but they have no responsibility and no accountability. Their vote is about how much more stuff they're going to award themselves from the public treasury. Half the country is carrying the other half on its back. Sooner or later the back breaks. That's when the politicians are most eager to pretend they can help. More than half of Obama's tax cut for 95 percent of the electorate is actually a check that will be cut to people who pay no taxes. No one's called him on this. Why? Because the country is broken.
2. More than half the electorate claims to believe in God, but they don't. Not really. Scots know everything there is to know about applying reason to religion. Our Calvinist, Presbyterian asses have jumped through every imaginable hoop to reconcile faith with the predictable decisions of the so-called "reasonable man." All contemporary protestantism flows from this Scottish precedent. It doesn't work. The whole purpose of Christian faith is to keep men from positioning themselves as gods. When men start to debate "reasonably" about a position like Obama's that a child which survives an abortion can be shoved into a closet to die, religious faith is dead regardless of how many people go to church every Sunday. We have permitted and enabled men to make themselves into gods, governments into churches, and ourselves into the slaves of men. That's where we are now. We have actively connived in the notion that religion is imprisonment, while we forget that imprisonment is imprisonment, even as we clamor for it as if it were freedom. Obamessiah is not a campaign accusation. It's the clearest fact before us. Americans would rather have Obama ruling them than Jesus Christ. Don't like it? Get used to it.
3. God AGAIN. Even if he doesn't exist, God is the most necessary philosophical concept in the history of human civilization. He is the sole means of keeping the most power-hungry humble and preventing government from transforming human beings into dispensable, dollar-adjustable statistics. It was the absence of God in the societal equation that enabled Stalin and Mao to kill tens of millions of people for the "greater good." It is only religion which has the irrational force to declare that one human life can be equal to or greater than the "greater good." But Americans have allowed themselves to be slowly driven backwards into a philosophical model that replaces faith with cost accounting, appetites, and organic chemistry. You want "free" healthcare. You will get it. And you will learn that the price of it is accepting a death sentence from the state when your life is too expensive in dollars to perpetuate. But you have spent a very long time already learning that despite your avowed faith, everything important in life is measured in dollars. Otherwise, there would be no way to buy your vote by promises of punishing rich people with higher taxes.
4. You're pussies. Scots fought the English in open battle for hundreds of years. We know that people who claim to hate you usually do hate you and need to be killed before they kill you. You've either forgotten that fundamental postulate of the social contract or never knew it in the first place. My people came here because we were driven out of Scotland after our last military attempt to install a Catholic on the throne of England. We failed, The Church of England won. And now that church is an empty, meaningless barrack of a religion, devoid of faith, courage, and meaning. We came here because there could still be meaning here. But the enemies of meaning have turned your souls inside out. You'd rather swear allegiance to an embittered, unaccomplished orphan than take responsibility for your own lives. Well, it's better to die in battle for Bonnie Prince Charlie than become the slave of a man who preferred a borrowed legacy of slavery to being free. Your Islamic enemies will eat you for lunch over the next four or eight years. For a thousand years, the Irish thought they could make peace with their oppressor. McCain is Irish. You picked him. Now live with him. He'll be much happier after he loses and can return to his Irish "maverick" role as an irrelevant troublemaker.
All of these points represent decisions you have made. You don't wish to be men. You don't wish to be free. You don't understand the value of bending your knee to a greater power than the most expensively educated person in the room. You are killing this miraculous, this divinely blessed nation. And so I give you all I can -- the back of my hand.
No, I didn't actually see the whole thing. I tried -- but somewhere in
the third or fourth minute, after Brokaw wrapped his thick tongue
around the first question and the two combatants sailed in with all
their finely tuned politico-martial artistry, I.... well, I... to be
completely honest... I nodded off for about, oh, ninety, maybe
ninety-five minutes. When I regained consciousness, the pundits were in
full cry, and I had to content myself with a few highlights. These are
reproduced for you above, in case any of you also slipped into the
comforting arms of Morpheus during the titanic showdown between John
"Slugger" McCain and Barack "The Boxer" Obama.
Of course, no matter how many times I review the film, I can't detect any single blow that landed on either of them. Maybe next time they should get a referee who doesn't believe twelve rounds of dancing at a safe distance from harm constitutes a boxing match.
But that's just me, I guess.
. It's really not clear that people are willing to go
gentle into the good night of species self-loathing and tiny human
footprints on the good earth. I saw my first Smart Car (see the pink
thing above) in the flesh last week, and I was instantly struck by what
a statement it seems to be. It flagrantly violates all the traditions
of automotive esthetics, so much so that this seems one of its main
purposes in being.
Not coincidentally to my mind, the sighting occurred outside an orthopedic shoe shop, where I have since seen the vehicle a second and a third time. I get the feeling I'm being given an orthopedic lesson: ugly and offputting is fine if the result is somehow therapeutic. Well, maybe. But one of the things I have always hated about counterculture cars is the artful "happy face" so many of them seem to wear, as if a broad enough smile could overcome their deficiencies in such politically incorrect categories as speed, handling, responsiveness, and crashworthiness. I mean, we are trusting our lives to these mechanical creations. Is it wrong to expect that they have been designed to defend us from sudden death and other forms of automotive violence? And shouldn't their appearance suggest that somehow? Or do today's green designers really expect us to overlook everything but a cheerful grille? For example, here's the sheetmetal remake of the Smart Car before it was released for sale in the U.S.:
The purveyors of hybrids and microcars obviously believe we can be
seduced by little deathtraps that exude bonhomie even as they lead us in wide-eyed innocence to fatal collisions with vehicles of
vastly more predatory origins. Here's a quick look at the glad
grilles of the smaller, slower, more planet-oriented set.
Are you charmed? Chances are, you're not. What's the evidence? A new survey
about what people are attracted to in cars. Here's the straight skinny:
In other words, automobiles are still important for their perceived
embodiment of sexual power, the planet be damned. The remaining debate
would appear to be not about the significance of sexuality per se, but what gender automotive sexuality ideally represents. In short, it's still an
automotive rather than an environmental controversy. As it should be.
If the greens want to drag us into their new Luddite paradise, they're
going to have to give up on the neutered appliance-like vehicles that
would satisfy their obsession with wiping out the human drive to
reproduce. Instead, they'll have to devote themselves to promulgating lousy, slow, dangerous pieces of crap that still
look something like this:
But cars that look like this and can't do anything but deliver their
occupants into the devouring steel maw of a runaway Peterbilt may not
exactly entice large numbers of the populace. Except the death wish
cases, of course. Which is precisely who the greens are and have always
been. Maybe they'll have to
rethink the Pied Piper pilgrimage to doom they've had their dried up
hearts (and gonads) set on all these years.
But that they will. It's fun to imagine them trying -- and constantly stubbing their undersized toe on a human reality they can't begin to comprehend. Especially the part about how women also love angry male cars. It gives one hope for the whole human race.
Zoom zoom zoom.
EXTRA CREDIT. Why did this car fail so completely in the markeplace?
Nice liquid eyes, though.
Time for credit where credit is due. The current election season has
tested every conservative, and most have been found wanting. Ann
Coulter defected at one point to Hillary Clinton, probably just for fun
but hardly in service to the cause of preventing a Democrat landslide.
George Will and Peggy Noonan can't decide whether to be frightened of
Obama or to kiss him passionately on the lips. Charles Krauthammer is
openly disgusted with the world and the whole American political scene.
Somewhere between fifty and seventy percent of National Review editors are a
positive disgrace, whining about this and that piece of right wing
bric-a-brac getting singed by McCain and/or Palin while the whole
house is burning spectacularly to the ground. Michelle Malkin has gone
shrieky bipolar, slamming Bush and McCain with every fiber of her being
one day, then hurling apoplectic charges at Obama and his army of Orcs
the next. Even Rush Limbaugh wavers between supporting his party's
nominee and initimating that an Obama landslide will create a new
yellow brick road for the second coming of Reagan. (It won't.)
And then there's Sean Hannity. He never quits, never stops, never loses heart, never doubts, never tires of repeating his mantras about Jeremiah Wright, William Ayers, and all the other unreported vulnerabilities and disqualifications of Barack Obama.
I have no idea how he does it. But after a certain point, you have to dispense with the condescending remarks about his education and intelligence and acknowledge that he is the only equivalent we have to every single goddamn Democrat in Washington, DC. Because that's how they are. They just keep coming, like a battalion of terminators. Nothing wounds them, hurts them, or slows them down. Those dead red eyes are locked on the prize in a way that almost no conservative can understand or even believe. And the only one we have who fights the way they fight is Sean Hannity.
I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. But right now I feel some moral obligation to salute it. He's the only one who never gave up on the Ayers connection, not even for a single day. He's either less than human or a superhero. You tell me which it is.
Ever so reluctantly, I'm compelled to admit he's earned my admiration. That's my tablespoon of humility for today.
It was always a long shot that we would win this election. I
don't feel bitter about the losing part. I feel bitter about the price
we'll pay for losing this time.
Worse, I'm finally starting to reciprocate the hatred I've felt from the left my whole life. I have (believe me) many personal and professional reasons for hating them, but I've always resisted till now, because I'm only one more tadpole in the pond and it just doesn't matter in the scheme of things if I get swallowed up in the food chain.
I've been mad before. I've been irate throughout the Bush presidency, beginning with the blatant Gore attempt to steal the election and overturn every civil precedent governing this nation while claiming the high ground in civic virtue.
I was incredibly pissed off when they tried the same tactic again in 2004, claiming they might have won in Ohio even though they clearly lost, just as they had lost in Florida four years before.
But it's only now that I have truly progressed to hatred. Actually, it doesn't extend to Obama. I'm older than he is. I'm fairly sure that in his heart of hearts he's a radical left-wing Marxist racist, but that's not a crime in and of itself. In the ordinary course of things, he would be a splinter party of one, self-righteous and (inevitably) rich by virtue of the rewards his adoring constituents would lavish on him.
Here's who I hate: Reid, Pelosi, Schumer, Rangel, Durbin, Frank, Leahy, Kennedy, Hoyer, Harkin, Dodd, Kucinich, Biden, Jefferson, Feingold, Hastings, Dingel, Murtha, McDermott, McCaskill, Byrd, and Waters. They're all corrupt. They will all say and do ANYTHING to promote the power of the Democrat Party. They are willing to see the United States lose a war, enter a depression, get overrun by illegal aliens, pretend that our climate is experiencing a peril we can do something about, abet the process of transferring our national wealth to enemy states for energy we could produce at home, preside over the miseducation of our children at the hands of incompetent union teachers, let lawyers bankrupt our health care system with idiotic and frivolous malpractice suits, lard their local budgets with secret earmarks, and watch more than a million babies die every year -- just to keep the campaign funds flowing.
The congressional Republicans are bad, too, but not this bad. I despise a lot of them, but I don't hate them. They never conspired in the metaphorical rape of a female candidate for national office. Nor would they. It wouldn't occur to their poor dumb souls that it was even an option.
I'm trying to be civilized about this. I don't want anyone to die of cancer and I don't want the wives (spouses) or children of anyone to fall ill or perish. However....
However. If your name is Reid, Pelosi, Schumer, Rangel, Durbin, Frank, Leahy, Kennedy, Hoyer, Harkin, Dodd, Kucinich, Biden, Jefferson, Feingold, Hastings, Dingel, Murtha, McDermott, McCaskill, Byrd, or Waters, I very much want you to wake up in the middle of the night in a severe existential crisis and confront your faces and eyes in the mirror.
Before I tell you how bad I hope that experience is, let me add some other names to my hate list: Chris Matthews, Keith Olbermann, Katie Couric, Punch Sulzberger, Andrew Sullivan, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Tom Brokaw, Brian Williams, Larry King, Glenn Greenwald, Dan Rather, Charles Gibson, Jim Lehrer, Gwen Ifill, David Gergen, Jan Wenner, Bill Maher, David Letterman, Craig Ferguson (deport him!), and all the editors of Time, Newsweek, The New York Times, The Washington Post, Rolling Stone, The Nation, The New Republic, NBC, CBS, ABC, PBS, MSNBC, CNN, all the hosts of Air America, and all the vicious, foul-mouthed left-wing bloggers and commenters who commit mental crimes of violence against their enemies.
Now. Here's what I hope happens when you confront yourselves in the mirror. Annihilation. I want you to see yourselves as you are -- intellectually and morally corrupt, dishonest, selfish, narcissistic, shallow, more devoted to pornography than philosophy, contemptuous of your betters, servile to superiors, alienated from all worthwhile pursuits, poisonous to the happiness of your own children, and dead-ended on a down-the-drain pursuit of wealth and fame. When you see this and recognize the profound reality of it, you will also see your real face -- a nightmare that I confidently expect and hope will send you screaming iinto the night. Because the face you've earned will be a kind of ugliness no one could behold without horror.
What I want for you is nothing less than soul death. That's hatred. Of course, you're all too smart to believe in soul death. Which is playing right into my hands. When the money and celebrity's done and all that's left is you being old and dying, you will begin to ask all the questions I'm trying to confront you with now.
Here's the measure of my hatred. I really do want you to be 80 and alone when you realize the importance of asking and answering questions about life. And, God help me, I look forward to the sick feeling in your bellies when you discover you've come all this way for nothing. Because you've never understood a damn thing that was important.
I told you. I hate you.
May God forgive me.
Anderson Cooper doesn't seem too thrilled about this odd detour into
journalism, but young Drew Griffin seems rather buoyed by the
experience of this thing called 'reporting.' I just hope he didn't have
his heart set on getting a job at The
New York Times. Because he isn't going to get one.
A word to our faithful readers. Don't read too
much into the official pessimism of TruePunk
Boss. These are guys who haven't watched their favorite teams play
a game of football or baseball for most of their adult lives. They're
both convinced they're jinxes. So they pretend they don't care, claim
they've already discounted the inevitable negative outcome, and are
then pitifully ecstatic when, say, the Phillies
handily win their
playoff series against the Milwaukee Brewers. I'm just saying. They
definitely haven't given up.
The more they talk that way, the harder they're looking for signs of
hope. Here's one. The barracuda appears to be swimming free in the
electoral ocean. No, she's no Reagan. Even I will concede that. But
Bobby Jindal might be, and every backwoods hero can do more with a
Little John at his side.
P.S. And if you haven't checked it out yet, spare a few minutes to review our recommendations about the fabulous forthcoming movie, "O."
. Mark Steyn is
back. He left there for a while, shut down his site while he battled
Canada's pogrom against free speech. We've repeatedly referenced Mr.
Steyn for his blazing acuity about global and U.S. politics, but he's
just as good -- perhaps even better -- as a maven of popular music. He's
the best source, for example, for those who who want to know precisely how and why Sinatra was a vocal
genius, which may seem obvious to fans but still benefits the
beleaguered ones who live with Sinatra skeptics and haters. Steyn is
the only writer we've yet found who is a serious song historian. He tells you everything
about the person who wrote it, the people who sang or performed it, and
which recordings and artists cemented it into our cultural canon. He's
a wonder and a treasure for anyone who remembers music longer than the
few weeks any song sits on top of the Hit Parade. He can also
write about music in a way that almost makes you hear it. Which all
other music critics think they can but can't.
So today, we're just celebrating Mark Steyn's return. Here's his essay on "Body and Soul," which also includes an interesting detour into the history of "I Cover the Waterfront," providing an outstanding excuse to listen to Billie Holliday. And who wouldn't welcome that on a bright blue gloomy Tuesday?
Yeah, we know there's a debate tonight and the stock market's plunging.
Get over yourself. Life goes on. Life. Goes. On.
. Those of us who don't find Barack Obama
a compelling candidate are supposed to be the racist ones. We aren't.
We're the ones who know that a bad black president would be far more
damaging to the cause of racial equality than no black president. That's why most Republicans have
always believed the first minority president (black/female/etc) would be a
Republican. In large part because we
have no affirmative action gene in
our makeup; we just don't think the person in charge should be put in
charge because their ancestors weren't allowed to be in charge. If
that's the case it's sad but hardly a credential for leadership. Sorry.
That's the real burden of electing a minority candidate to the presidency. You have to give them a chance to succeed in office. If your deepest, truest motive for backing Obama in the 2008 election is recompense for slavery, Jim Crow, and 400 years of the short end of the stick, vote this time for McCain. Why? Because this election is a perfect storm of reasons not to elect a black president.
The financial crisis is Exhibit A. We slew our banks by mandating, through Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae, that they give mortgages to people who didn't qualify under historical criteria. It doesn't matter that many of those people were white. What matters is that the impetus for such an initiative was to put poor black people into homes of their own. Nobody in either party has ever cared whether or not poor white trailer trash could secure a mortgage. Maxine Waters and Barney Frank wouldn't have gone out on a limb for the poor whites who afflict every Celt-based nation on earth. What they wanted was to bring poor black people out of the shadows and install them in the American credit system, whether they could handle the responsibility or not.
Here's the tragedy. They couldn't. The result? Bad American credit to people who weren't ready for it is poised to bring down the entire global economy. It's not a failure of capitalism. It's a failure of government interfering in capitalism for well-intentioned if misguided motives of social justice.
Sadly, there will be a backlash. You tell poor people to come scam you and then when they do you get outraged? Well, yeah. You do. Especially if you're one of the ones who always plays by the rules and is now threatened by those who don't. If the economy keeps tanking, this is not going to be known as the Great Depression II. It's going to be known as The Black Depression. It will set race relations in this country back a half century or more. And it's the absolute worst time to elect a first black president. Nothing he does, or can do, will be analyzed in nonracial terms. He will be handcuffed by his race, criticized for every act of compassion and restraint, and there's absolutely no chance in the current circumstances that he will be able to govern as a "trans-racial" pioneer of some new age.
I won't labor the point. If times are going to be genuinely hard, there's no rationale for compelling a black American to be identified with hard times in perpetuity. If Obama really were as talented as a Lincoln, there would be some reason for taking the risk. But he isn't. And there isn't.
The presidency right now is a sour apple. Hand it to McCain. He's used to sour apples. Hold your fire. Elect Obama when the time is propitious for success rather than years of darkness and failure.
I know you won't listen. But there's nothing ironic about the advice offered.
With the world eagerly awaiting "W,"
Oliver Stone's movie treatment of George and Laura Bush et al, it's
probably not too early to start anticipating a docudrama about our next First Couple. These things
take time to plan, fund, and produce, you know. So we thought we'd help
out with a few development suggestions for the movie we're pretty sure
should be called "O."
There's no question that it should be another Oliver Stone production. He has a real talent for a creative approach to historical subjects. But it will have to differ in scope from "W," which is timed to coincide with the end of the Bush administration and the election of a replacement president. "O" needs to be released in October 2012 when Obama is seeking his second term, which means that it will have to be devoted less than half to the first term and more than half to the incredible story of how Barack and Michelle -- against all odds -- stormed the gates of power to achieve domain over their racist nation.
That's why we're proposing that the first act of the screenplay should be drawn from the book about Michelle excerpted today in the Washington Post, which contains the most detailed account yet of the incredible love story between Michelle and Barack. That's also why we're convinced it's time for a reunion between Stone and Quentin Tarantino. Consider the following passage from the WAPO excerpt, which describes Michelle's ordeal at the first law firm she worked for after law school graduation. Unbelievably for such a talented social revolutionary, the firm plopped her into an assigment in its marketing department, where some of the brightest legal talent in the world was put to work fine-tuning advertising copy for corporate and public service organizations:
Yes, it's a revolting and ludicrous misuse of world-saving vision, but
rendering it dramatically is going to involve mostly a lot of talking.
Only Quentin Tarantino has the chops to make all that talking a
violent, bleeding edge kind of cinematic experience. What we're going
to need is the crackling suspense of ten-to-fifteen minute stretches of
unbroken dialogue that we can just feel
are going to result in at least metaphorical acts of savagery against
the stultifying status quo. We, the audience, have to feel in our bones the building power of
Michelle and Barack coming together like Uma and John in Pulp Fiction for a breakthrough dance
of self-actualization that will make the rest of the world tremble in
terror and erotic surrender. You know. The Tarantino touch. Like when
Uma cut off the top of Lucy Lius's head in Kill Bill. Not exactly like
that, mind, since we're talking community organizing and political
fundraising here, not Japanese samurai swords and mass murder, but something like, anyway. It's got to
be world-changing even if nothing really happens for the first hour or
You can see that the casting will be critical. We know the picture up top suggests that the lead roles might be played by Whoopi Goldberg and Jaleel "Urkel" White, but this is the movies and it has to be much much better than that. We have some suggestions. There's only one good choice for the part of Michelle:
And forget Urkel. There's only one man with the cool and the ears to
play Barack the Stud.
During the pre-presidential romance part of the picture, casting of supporting roles is
still important, but as long as we have the requisite corporate-looking
types playing all the old white men who get in the Obamas' way, it
doesn't much matter who plays who as long as some of them are played by Robert Duvall, Rip Torn, Brian Cox (1:14
in), and Donald
Moffat (2:35 in). You know. The standard old evil capitalist pigs.
But the part of Jeremiah Wright is key. We have to be able to see that he is just so darn wacky no one would ever have taken him seriously except for all the devoted parishioners who made him a multi-millionaire. Which means, obviously, that it has to be Samuel L. Jackson.
And maybe Bill Ayers should make a token appearance too, just to show
everyone that nobody ever took him seriously, either, because he was
more like a character out of Stakeout (4:30
in) than any kind of nasty radical terrorist threat.
That's not to say, though, that there aren't real villains. When the
presidential campaign begins, in the second act, we meet the first true
incarnations of pure evil. These are roles that will require a marquee
And then there's the super-villain of Act II. It's not even clear that
John McCain is completely human. It's like he might be an evil cyborg
Predictably, the scary old war dragon picks a rabid fox for his VP candidate
(another Tarantino moment) and if it wasn't for Uncle Joe Biden's white
guy gravitas, the whole revolution could have been sunk.
All of which leads to the greatest new presidential administration in
history. But victories bring sadness as well as joy to the
manifestly enlightened ones. On their night of all nights -- in the
movie anyway -- the Obamas will be sorrowful about the plight of the
miserable Bush administration Oreos who failed to endorse them when
they had the chance. (This is going to be a boffo scene, full of angst
The third act will be one of the greatest in all of filmic history,
though. The Obama administration's brilliant new attorney general will
put all the evil Republicans, including the Bushes, in prison for life.
The new Treasury Secretary will also prove to be more like some gift
from heaven than an ordinary bureaucrat. He'll heal the entire global
economy with a bunch of new laws that will bury Adam
Best of all, the troops will be coming home from Iraq. Thanks to the
miraculously effective offices of Secretary of Defense Cynthia McKinney.
We're not saying the scriptwriting is going to be easy. We're just
saying it can be done in
plenty of time to usher in a great second term for the Obamessiah.
Maybe some CGI would help.
Oh. Almost forgot. A picture of the liberal Pope who blessed this marriage and this divine right of rule.
There. That's better.
Look for it. Fall 2012 premiere. We can't wait.