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Friday, June 06, 2008
The Hillary-Obama
Meeting
TMI. Everybody's so fired up about this, from the MSM to the rightwing talk radio hosts. So we paid off our sources big time and got you the actual footage. PLEASE don't express your gratitude in any way. Ever. We really really don't want to know any more about it.
Okay?
UPDATE. Yeah, I know you find all this depressing and I'm supposed to make it better somehow, but McCain believes in five-buck-an-hour illegal labor to "do the jobs Americans won't do," like, say, picking oranges or, er, cotton, which is pretty much the same argument Jeff Davis had about the indispensability of slavery. Obama can't bring himself to disagree. McCain believes in the simplistically rigged computer models of Global Warming and its $45 TRILLION price tag, which doesn't even count the extinction of all human liberties forever. Obama thinks that's part of necessary change. And McCain has developed an old man's idee fixe about the inviolability of the Alaskan Wildlife Refuge, which could give us 27 million gallons of gasoline a day and an absolutely KILLER campaign issue. Obama wants us to die on the vine, the way we deserve. But McCain's a damned old bastard who's too rigid to change his mind about anything, especially if it means pleasing evil, free-market conservatives. Obama thinks the mere idea of CHANGE is enough to solve all the problems of the world. While McCain wants us all to sign up for basic training. Rachel is sure it's dumber than f___ to resist the McCain imperative. I give up.
So all I can do is aim you at the bright shining light of right now. Here she is. On the subject of Clint Eastwood.
I
always believed that's who he really was.*
I think it's called being a romantic. I still am.
I think it's called being a romantic. I still am.
Feel better? Funny. I kind of do. too. But I don't think it will last all the way to 3 am, which as everyone knows is the dark night of the soul. Still, I think it's going to work great till about bedtime.
That's when I'm going to start thinking about who exactly I'd face down if the nannies hadn't eliminated all poetic justice from the face of our poor poor planet.
* Yes. It was, by far, the longest movie gunfight in history. A seven-minute foregone conclusion. But it's possibly the only Hollywood gunfight that wasn't some kind of a political statement. The Man with No Name was open to all kinds of symbolism -- libertarian, anarchist, capitalist, marxist. But he was so archetypal that he subverted the fake ones and exemplified the valid ones. He became the, gasp, Man with No Allegiance. Which is quickly and easily reducible to the man who just doesn't want to be told what to do. Period.
It's an unwelcome idea anymore. That many of us might not be evil but still don't want to be told what to do.
That's why some of us climb on our motorcycles and howl.
But if you object, be content. No one will ever see this. All the well schooled conservatives have learned never to reference this blog again.
Halleluiah.
