Regarding Sarah Palin (and One or Two Other Things):
1. So John McCain thinks women are so stupid that all a candidate needs is a vagina to please them? One hole's as good as another, eh, maverick? It's like he thought, "You call that inexperience? I'll show you inexperience." Except that'd be suicidal. (Bonus points for McCain's introduction, which sounded like a cheap beauty pageant entrance: "She's not from these parts and she's not from Washington. But when you get to know her, you're going to be as impressed as I am." It's like a nominee for prom queen in Walla-Walla in 1952.)
2. Starting tomorrow and for the entire week, the Rude Pundit will be in Minneapolis/St. Paul, as one of the writers for Lizz Winstead's Shoot the Messenger (at the Parkway Theater September 2-4). Oh, and the Republican Convention is there. He's still trying to secure credentials for the actual big event, but has lots of plans otherwise, involving audio shit and interviews and more.
But if anyone has some spare credentials just laying around....
3. Where should the Rude Pundit drink in downtown Minneapolis?
Obama to the GOP: "Go Fuck Yourselves":
In February of 2007, the Rude Pundit wrote that Republicans were shitting blood over an Obama candidacy. Expect toilet sales to go through the roof this morning.
The face of Alex Castellanos, Republican stooge for Romney and CNN "analyst," really said it all. When he appeared after Barack Obama's DNC acceptance speech, he looked like a man who was about to vomit from being kicked so hard in the balls. "Whoever didn’t get picked for Republican VP today may be a lucky Republican," Castellanos said, although he may as well have said, "Oh, man, my nutsack."
Who could've figured out that Obama's strategy these last couple of months was to play rope-a-dope with John McCain? Let the GOP throw all the shit they can at him, the "celebrity" nonsense, the experience canard, all the lies about Obama's beliefs and plans: he took each blow. And then, in front of a Rolling Stones concert-sized crowd with millions of people watching at home, the man let loose.
For surely, beyond the "holy fuck, we nominated a black man" historic part of things, the most healing part of Obama's speech was not the muted version of his soaring rhetoric. Nor was it the infinitely ordinary and mostly safe laundry list of "shit what I wanna do." No, for Democrats, we needed to see a candidate directly and passionately tell the GOP and John McCain, in no uncertain terms, "Go fuck yourselves." When he looked out onto that ocean of support and said, "Tonight, I say to the American people, to Democrats and Republicans and independents across this great land — enough!" it was like a long-delayed orgasm finally shuddering through the entire body of the Democratic Party.
And then he took Karl Rove out to the woodshed, pulled out a switch, and smacked that big ass bloody. After talking about his life, he said, "I don't know what kind of lives John McCain thinks that celebrities lead, but this has been mine." After talking about the stupidity of America's strategy against terrorism, he said, "John McCain likes to say that he'll follow bin Laden to the gates of hell — but he won't even go to the cave where he lives." He mocked the Atwater/Rove reduction of politics to bullshit things that don't affect anyone's lives: "You make a big election about small things." And he fuckin' addressed McCain directly, taking on the digs at his patriotism, "So I've got news for you, John McCain. We all put our country first." When's the last time you heard a candidate call out another candidate like that?
The other major accomplishment of Obama's speech was that he didn't run away from the real role of government. In saying that Washington can be a force of positive change and progress in people's lives, he started to set fire to crazed pagan altars to Ronald Reagan that have been erected by both parties over the last three decades. He said that the good government can do "is the only reason I am standing here tonight." Citing the GI Bill, food stamps, and student loans, he made a case for liberalism as the transformative force it is supposed to be.
We can complain, and we should, about his failure to mention the damage to the Constitution, the Supreme Court, torture, and so many other major issues. We can say, and we should, that his promises of bipartisanship are another version of Clintonesque triangulation, progress, yes, but not progressive. Still, it's politics, man. Hell, at this point, we'll be lucky to get back to moderate-right in the White House. But it's good to know that Obama understands that you get nothing done if you don't get there.
After watching Mondale, Dukakis, Gore, Kerry, and, to a large extent, Clinton act like they were supposed to turn the other cheek again and again, it was goddamn cathartic to see a Democratic candidate reach up and grab the hand that was slapping him and say, "No, not this time around, motherfucker." No wonder the right didn't know how to react. It was like seeing a prison bitch grab his rapist and beat his head on the side of the bunk. Rove won't die easily, though. When they weren't being attacked, Republicans mocked John Kerry's military service, medals, and wounds. Imagine what they'll do when they're cornered.
Gird yer loins, motherfuckers, and break out the axes. We've joined the battle.
In February of 2007, the Rude Pundit wrote that Republicans were shitting blood over an Obama candidacy. Expect toilet sales to go through the roof this morning.
The face of Alex Castellanos, Republican stooge for Romney and CNN "analyst," really said it all. When he appeared after Barack Obama's DNC acceptance speech, he looked like a man who was about to vomit from being kicked so hard in the balls. "Whoever didn’t get picked for Republican VP today may be a lucky Republican," Castellanos said, although he may as well have said, "Oh, man, my nutsack."
Who could've figured out that Obama's strategy these last couple of months was to play rope-a-dope with John McCain? Let the GOP throw all the shit they can at him, the "celebrity" nonsense, the experience canard, all the lies about Obama's beliefs and plans: he took each blow. And then, in front of a Rolling Stones concert-sized crowd with millions of people watching at home, the man let loose.
For surely, beyond the "holy fuck, we nominated a black man" historic part of things, the most healing part of Obama's speech was not the muted version of his soaring rhetoric. Nor was it the infinitely ordinary and mostly safe laundry list of "shit what I wanna do." No, for Democrats, we needed to see a candidate directly and passionately tell the GOP and John McCain, in no uncertain terms, "Go fuck yourselves." When he looked out onto that ocean of support and said, "Tonight, I say to the American people, to Democrats and Republicans and independents across this great land — enough!" it was like a long-delayed orgasm finally shuddering through the entire body of the Democratic Party.
And then he took Karl Rove out to the woodshed, pulled out a switch, and smacked that big ass bloody. After talking about his life, he said, "I don't know what kind of lives John McCain thinks that celebrities lead, but this has been mine." After talking about the stupidity of America's strategy against terrorism, he said, "John McCain likes to say that he'll follow bin Laden to the gates of hell — but he won't even go to the cave where he lives." He mocked the Atwater/Rove reduction of politics to bullshit things that don't affect anyone's lives: "You make a big election about small things." And he fuckin' addressed McCain directly, taking on the digs at his patriotism, "So I've got news for you, John McCain. We all put our country first." When's the last time you heard a candidate call out another candidate like that?
The other major accomplishment of Obama's speech was that he didn't run away from the real role of government. In saying that Washington can be a force of positive change and progress in people's lives, he started to set fire to crazed pagan altars to Ronald Reagan that have been erected by both parties over the last three decades. He said that the good government can do "is the only reason I am standing here tonight." Citing the GI Bill, food stamps, and student loans, he made a case for liberalism as the transformative force it is supposed to be.
We can complain, and we should, about his failure to mention the damage to the Constitution, the Supreme Court, torture, and so many other major issues. We can say, and we should, that his promises of bipartisanship are another version of Clintonesque triangulation, progress, yes, but not progressive. Still, it's politics, man. Hell, at this point, we'll be lucky to get back to moderate-right in the White House. But it's good to know that Obama understands that you get nothing done if you don't get there.
After watching Mondale, Dukakis, Gore, Kerry, and, to a large extent, Clinton act like they were supposed to turn the other cheek again and again, it was goddamn cathartic to see a Democratic candidate reach up and grab the hand that was slapping him and say, "No, not this time around, motherfucker." No wonder the right didn't know how to react. It was like seeing a prison bitch grab his rapist and beat his head on the side of the bunk. Rove won't die easily, though. When they weren't being attacked, Republicans mocked John Kerry's military service, medals, and wounds. Imagine what they'll do when they're cornered.
Gird yer loins, motherfuckers, and break out the axes. We've joined the battle.
Clinton, Kerry, and Biden Take It to Third Base:
One of the more interesting aspects of the Democratic National Convention so far has been the way in which the master narrative of the event has played out. Where previous conventions could, more or less, be charted as straight lines with occasional bumps and a jump at the end, this one appears to be following a well-constructed plot line. Indeed, if you think about it, and, indeed, the Rude Pundit has, you could say that the whole event is just like running the sexual bases.
(Note: the Rude Pundit's referring here to the well-worn baseball metaphor used for a straight couple. Two dudes pretty much move instantly from "Howdy" to "Your mouth or mine?" And two women? Well, it's less like baseball and more like a rousing game of squash.)
See, the opening night, with its warm hug from Michelle Obama, was like first base. You know, a little touchy-touch, some smooching, maybe a little tongue. Mostly innocent but with promises of more to come. The second night was second base, all about the tits. Dennis Kucinich got his hand under the bra, Brian Schweitzer unsnapped it, and then Mark Warner came along and just uncomprehendingly fumbled around with the breasts for a little while until Hillary Clinton was up and she showed everyone how you handle some boobs, pinching, licking, and nibbling those nipples until she either had to go all the way or stop. (And, by the way, if you know your way around a nipple and the nipple's owner is sensitive enough and wanting it, you can give one hell of an orgasm.)
Last night? That was third base - time to get the cock and pussy into the action. Bill Clinton gave head like an old whore in an alley behind a South Padre Island bar at spring break. Of course he was gonna give a great speech. Of course he was gonna put his all into it, sometimes even finding himself enjoying it. Of all the people there, Bill Clinton knows the way this whole thing works and his place in the world. Of course, he was gonna position his legacy as the way for Obama. Fuck, compare his hero's welcome to the dread the Republicans are gonna feel when Bush shows up to their party next week. What Bill Clinton knows is that there is always tomorrow, and he's got shit to do where he'll need an Obama administration's enthusiastic backing. So he broke out the lip balm, got on his knees, and gave a grand hummer, even mentioning torture and Katrina.
Then John Kerry turns out to be one of those dudes who looks like he'll be lame in the sack and all of a sudden shows he knows his way around a pussy, finger fucking gentle and hard. It was one of those enraging and sad moments where, like Al Gore before him, you wondered, "Where the fuck were you four years ago?" Motherfucker ripped into John McCain and George Bush. He even evoked his post-military time opposing the Vietnam war: "Years ago when we protested a war, people would weigh in against us saying, 'My country, right or wrong.' Our answer? Absolutely, my country, right or wrong. When right, keep it right. When wrong, make it right. Sometimes loving your country demands you must tell the truth to power." He rarely ever made mention of this in 2004, and it's why he only ever got to third base.
And, to drive this metaphor into the ground, Joe Biden? The reliable muffdiver, not great or graceful, but adept with lip on lip action and able to find a clit with his tongue, and really, what else do you need? Biden's speech was old time pugilistic rhetoric that wouldn't have been out of place on the stump in the 1930s. It was Irish working class bluster, repeating advice his dear aul Mutter gave him: "When I got knocked down by guys bigger than me, she sent me back out and demanded that I bloody their nose so I could walk down that street the next day." His language didn't soar, he used a lead pipe and not a razor to take down McCain, and he stumbled a number of times.
But he was out there to get people angry, and in that, he succeeded. The final act of foreplay, exactly as the DNC needed it to be. One part of politics is manipulation and, if the Democrats have played this right, you should be so hard or wet that you can't stand it. And then Barack Obama can walk in tonight and take you all the way to home.
One of the more interesting aspects of the Democratic National Convention so far has been the way in which the master narrative of the event has played out. Where previous conventions could, more or less, be charted as straight lines with occasional bumps and a jump at the end, this one appears to be following a well-constructed plot line. Indeed, if you think about it, and, indeed, the Rude Pundit has, you could say that the whole event is just like running the sexual bases.
(Note: the Rude Pundit's referring here to the well-worn baseball metaphor used for a straight couple. Two dudes pretty much move instantly from "Howdy" to "Your mouth or mine?" And two women? Well, it's less like baseball and more like a rousing game of squash.)
See, the opening night, with its warm hug from Michelle Obama, was like first base. You know, a little touchy-touch, some smooching, maybe a little tongue. Mostly innocent but with promises of more to come. The second night was second base, all about the tits. Dennis Kucinich got his hand under the bra, Brian Schweitzer unsnapped it, and then Mark Warner came along and just uncomprehendingly fumbled around with the breasts for a little while until Hillary Clinton was up and she showed everyone how you handle some boobs, pinching, licking, and nibbling those nipples until she either had to go all the way or stop. (And, by the way, if you know your way around a nipple and the nipple's owner is sensitive enough and wanting it, you can give one hell of an orgasm.)
Last night? That was third base - time to get the cock and pussy into the action. Bill Clinton gave head like an old whore in an alley behind a South Padre Island bar at spring break. Of course he was gonna give a great speech. Of course he was gonna put his all into it, sometimes even finding himself enjoying it. Of all the people there, Bill Clinton knows the way this whole thing works and his place in the world. Of course, he was gonna position his legacy as the way for Obama. Fuck, compare his hero's welcome to the dread the Republicans are gonna feel when Bush shows up to their party next week. What Bill Clinton knows is that there is always tomorrow, and he's got shit to do where he'll need an Obama administration's enthusiastic backing. So he broke out the lip balm, got on his knees, and gave a grand hummer, even mentioning torture and Katrina.
Then John Kerry turns out to be one of those dudes who looks like he'll be lame in the sack and all of a sudden shows he knows his way around a pussy, finger fucking gentle and hard. It was one of those enraging and sad moments where, like Al Gore before him, you wondered, "Where the fuck were you four years ago?" Motherfucker ripped into John McCain and George Bush. He even evoked his post-military time opposing the Vietnam war: "Years ago when we protested a war, people would weigh in against us saying, 'My country, right or wrong.' Our answer? Absolutely, my country, right or wrong. When right, keep it right. When wrong, make it right. Sometimes loving your country demands you must tell the truth to power." He rarely ever made mention of this in 2004, and it's why he only ever got to third base.
And, to drive this metaphor into the ground, Joe Biden? The reliable muffdiver, not great or graceful, but adept with lip on lip action and able to find a clit with his tongue, and really, what else do you need? Biden's speech was old time pugilistic rhetoric that wouldn't have been out of place on the stump in the 1930s. It was Irish working class bluster, repeating advice his dear aul Mutter gave him: "When I got knocked down by guys bigger than me, she sent me back out and demanded that I bloody their nose so I could walk down that street the next day." His language didn't soar, he used a lead pipe and not a razor to take down McCain, and he stumbled a number of times.
But he was out there to get people angry, and in that, he succeeded. The final act of foreplay, exactly as the DNC needed it to be. One part of politics is manipulation and, if the Democrats have played this right, you should be so hard or wet that you can't stand it. And then Barack Obama can walk in tonight and take you all the way to home.
Hillary Clinton Is Not a Liar:
You can say a lot of things about Hillary Clinton's speech last night at the Democratic Convention. You can say that she's just not the most compelling big house speaker (although in the last part, she hit a stride that was positively energizing). You can say that she delivered some vicious uppercuts to John McCain. You can say that in asking of her followers, "Were you in this campaign just for me?" she made the most compelling case to her diehards for voting for Obama. You can say all that and so much more. But, in that speech, on that evening, you cannot call her a liar.
What would lying have been? If Clinton had gotten all faux sentimental about her relationship with Barack Obama, pretending like they're anything other than ideological allies who fought a vicious battle. She didn't make up shit about the two of them being friends or hanging out with Michelle or working together on issues in the Senate. It's goddamn hilarious that the one criticism that's been pronounced by the pundostoogery on TV is that the speech had no personal touch about her and Obama. Jesus fuckin' Christ. No. None of that. It would have been false. It would have been a bullshit approach. (And had she done it, you can bet that the same people would have been calling her out for it being bullshit.)
Instead, she did what she had to do, the good soldier. She told the delegates who might be thinking of straying to McCain or not voting at all not to be such tools. She gave a kitchen sink list of Democratic beliefs that would get knocked off the table should McCain be elected. And she said, more or less, "Don't be stupid."
Yes, like Michelle Obama's speech Monday night, Clinton's was, for the most part, directed at idiots and the media. The idiots are the (mostly mythical) Clinton supporters who can't get over the primaries. What she said last night is if they're not voting for Obama, they were never really Clinton supporters in the first place. Much of the rest of the speech was for the media, drunk with power and forced to fill too many hours, creating dissent where little to none exists. Of course Hillary Clinton believes she should be the nominee. She'll believe that until the day she dies. But she's not a destructive egomaniac, as the mainstream media desperately need her to be.
Things didn't get interesting until the very last section of the speech. When she finally got to her feminist beliefs and women's history, she went to town. This was Hillary Clinton liberated of the need to please her campaign, the consultants and the clowns, the odious Mark Penn, her needy husband whose ego was more bruised than hers. When she said, "In America, you always keep going. We're Americans. We're not big on quitting," she offered a valedictory for her efforts and the efforts of the women who preceded her. In the end, she brought it back to the Democratic Party, the nation, and, no doubt, her: "We've got to ensure that the choice we make in this election honors the sacrifices of all who came before us and will fill the lives of our children with possibility and hope." She will become one of those who sacrificed. She wanted to be the end of a path - instead, she has realized she is another step on it.
She may not have been cozy and warm to Obama. But she didn't lie. What she was saying is that you don't have to like the nominee, you don't have to want to have a beer with him or even invite him to dinner. There are ideas you value, she said, they are what's important. Believe her or not.
You can say a lot of things about Hillary Clinton's speech last night at the Democratic Convention. You can say that she's just not the most compelling big house speaker (although in the last part, she hit a stride that was positively energizing). You can say that she delivered some vicious uppercuts to John McCain. You can say that in asking of her followers, "Were you in this campaign just for me?" she made the most compelling case to her diehards for voting for Obama. You can say all that and so much more. But, in that speech, on that evening, you cannot call her a liar.
What would lying have been? If Clinton had gotten all faux sentimental about her relationship with Barack Obama, pretending like they're anything other than ideological allies who fought a vicious battle. She didn't make up shit about the two of them being friends or hanging out with Michelle or working together on issues in the Senate. It's goddamn hilarious that the one criticism that's been pronounced by the pundostoogery on TV is that the speech had no personal touch about her and Obama. Jesus fuckin' Christ. No. None of that. It would have been false. It would have been a bullshit approach. (And had she done it, you can bet that the same people would have been calling her out for it being bullshit.)
Instead, she did what she had to do, the good soldier. She told the delegates who might be thinking of straying to McCain or not voting at all not to be such tools. She gave a kitchen sink list of Democratic beliefs that would get knocked off the table should McCain be elected. And she said, more or less, "Don't be stupid."
Yes, like Michelle Obama's speech Monday night, Clinton's was, for the most part, directed at idiots and the media. The idiots are the (mostly mythical) Clinton supporters who can't get over the primaries. What she said last night is if they're not voting for Obama, they were never really Clinton supporters in the first place. Much of the rest of the speech was for the media, drunk with power and forced to fill too many hours, creating dissent where little to none exists. Of course Hillary Clinton believes she should be the nominee. She'll believe that until the day she dies. But she's not a destructive egomaniac, as the mainstream media desperately need her to be.
Things didn't get interesting until the very last section of the speech. When she finally got to her feminist beliefs and women's history, she went to town. This was Hillary Clinton liberated of the need to please her campaign, the consultants and the clowns, the odious Mark Penn, her needy husband whose ego was more bruised than hers. When she said, "In America, you always keep going. We're Americans. We're not big on quitting," she offered a valedictory for her efforts and the efforts of the women who preceded her. In the end, she brought it back to the Democratic Party, the nation, and, no doubt, her: "We've got to ensure that the choice we make in this election honors the sacrifices of all who came before us and will fill the lives of our children with possibility and hope." She will become one of those who sacrificed. She wanted to be the end of a path - instead, she has realized she is another step on it.
She may not have been cozy and warm to Obama. But she didn't lie. What she was saying is that you don't have to like the nominee, you don't have to want to have a beer with him or even invite him to dinner. There are ideas you value, she said, they are what's important. Believe her or not.
The Real Keynote Speaker:
Man, fuck boring ass Mark Warner. You want an old-fashioned barn burner? Check out Dennis Kucinich, kicking it old school, bouncing around like the most coherent meth addict in history, and bringing the thunder.
Listen to that tough little motherfucker take down the Republicans and raise up the Democrats like a faith healer on a battlefield. And realize what it takes to go after these bastards.
Man, fuck boring ass Mark Warner. You want an old-fashioned barn burner? Check out Dennis Kucinich, kicking it old school, bouncing around like the most coherent meth addict in history, and bringing the thunder.
Listen to that tough little motherfucker take down the Republicans and raise up the Democrats like a faith healer on a battlefield. And realize what it takes to go after these bastards.
Michelle Obama Speaks to Idiot America:
Yeah, yeah, Michelle Obama's speech at the Democratic National Convention last night was potent, powerful, and amazingly well-delivered (really - she blew past "articulate" and went right to "inspirational"), and the kids were adorable, and, oh, sweet Jesus, the whole thing just gave one the same feeling as a warm, wet mouth on one's balls.
But let's be clear here: the purpose of the speech was to say, "Don't fear the black people." And it was directed at Idiot America, that demographic comprised of rednecks, racists, and/or retards who still think that blacks want to rape their white women while shooting them or stabbing them or beating them to death with a comically large bone, all the while receiving welfare checks and getting hired ahead of them. Really, she was addressing the teetering RRRs, the one who have an inkling that maybe those rich conservative whites who purport to share their "values" don't actually give a fuck about them. The rest of the RRRs, they're too fucking stupid to even come up with a decent assassination plot.
Everything Obama said was calculated to announce, "No, no, really, we're just like you." Which is, of course, true, and it's a pathetic statement on just how driven into racial backwardness we've been that it needed to be said at all. From her brother's mention of little sister Michelle memorizing episodes of that whitest of white shows, The Brady Bunch, to Obama's shout-outs to the working class, "People who work the day shift, kiss their kids goodnight, and head out for the night shift," the speech was a big, open-armed gesture to the stupid, telling them, "C'mere, you dumb motherfuckers, it's okay. Barack Obama won't boil you in a pot or give your devalued houses to black people. And, by the way, I don't hate America."
The way Obama made these reassurances was rather brilliant. Indeed, the speech and the video before it centered a distinctly American story within the black community and did so without every mentioning the word "black." Or "white" (except, of course, for "White House"). The very presence of a black woman on that stage carried a potent enough force, an embodiment of the very things she celebrated, and race, though unspoken, was very much there, even if the speech's purpose was to say, as Obama did repeatedly, that their experience was very much like "you" or "all" or "everyone." Her and her husband's working class roots are just so darn average, she was saying.
However, by bleaching their story, Michelle Obama was forced to leave out those intrinsic things that form her and her husband's identity. Yes, she did occasionally drop a racial code word or phrase ("south side of Chicago"). But one of the triumphs of the Obamas is in overcoming the very racism, the very idiocy, that she led her to make this address. To erase that part of the story is as conspicuous as painting over the Mona Lisa's eyes. Sure, everyone talks about the smile, but it wouldn't mean as much without her eyes. Obama placed their story in a larger context of the nation, but consciously took it out of its other contexts.
Still, that's okay. Because the speech wasn't for the Rude Pundit. Or most of you. It was for Idiot America. And Idiot America needed to see that Michelle Obama and the whole Obama family were non-threatening. With Obama's impassioned, urgent delivery and the daughters about as cute as central casting could do, it was a success.
Of course, somewhere in some shitty West Virginia bungalow or in some tiny Brooklyn apartment or in some New Mexico trailer or in some middle class ranch house in a Mississippi suburb, there's whites thinking how that coon ain't gonna put anything over on them.
Yeah, yeah, Michelle Obama's speech at the Democratic National Convention last night was potent, powerful, and amazingly well-delivered (really - she blew past "articulate" and went right to "inspirational"), and the kids were adorable, and, oh, sweet Jesus, the whole thing just gave one the same feeling as a warm, wet mouth on one's balls.
But let's be clear here: the purpose of the speech was to say, "Don't fear the black people." And it was directed at Idiot America, that demographic comprised of rednecks, racists, and/or retards who still think that blacks want to rape their white women while shooting them or stabbing them or beating them to death with a comically large bone, all the while receiving welfare checks and getting hired ahead of them. Really, she was addressing the teetering RRRs, the one who have an inkling that maybe those rich conservative whites who purport to share their "values" don't actually give a fuck about them. The rest of the RRRs, they're too fucking stupid to even come up with a decent assassination plot.
Everything Obama said was calculated to announce, "No, no, really, we're just like you." Which is, of course, true, and it's a pathetic statement on just how driven into racial backwardness we've been that it needed to be said at all. From her brother's mention of little sister Michelle memorizing episodes of that whitest of white shows, The Brady Bunch, to Obama's shout-outs to the working class, "People who work the day shift, kiss their kids goodnight, and head out for the night shift," the speech was a big, open-armed gesture to the stupid, telling them, "C'mere, you dumb motherfuckers, it's okay. Barack Obama won't boil you in a pot or give your devalued houses to black people. And, by the way, I don't hate America."
The way Obama made these reassurances was rather brilliant. Indeed, the speech and the video before it centered a distinctly American story within the black community and did so without every mentioning the word "black." Or "white" (except, of course, for "White House"). The very presence of a black woman on that stage carried a potent enough force, an embodiment of the very things she celebrated, and race, though unspoken, was very much there, even if the speech's purpose was to say, as Obama did repeatedly, that their experience was very much like "you" or "all" or "everyone." Her and her husband's working class roots are just so darn average, she was saying.
However, by bleaching their story, Michelle Obama was forced to leave out those intrinsic things that form her and her husband's identity. Yes, she did occasionally drop a racial code word or phrase ("south side of Chicago"). But one of the triumphs of the Obamas is in overcoming the very racism, the very idiocy, that she led her to make this address. To erase that part of the story is as conspicuous as painting over the Mona Lisa's eyes. Sure, everyone talks about the smile, but it wouldn't mean as much without her eyes. Obama placed their story in a larger context of the nation, but consciously took it out of its other contexts.
Still, that's okay. Because the speech wasn't for the Rude Pundit. Or most of you. It was for Idiot America. And Idiot America needed to see that Michelle Obama and the whole Obama family were non-threatening. With Obama's impassioned, urgent delivery and the daughters about as cute as central casting could do, it was a success.
Of course, somewhere in some shitty West Virginia bungalow or in some tiny Brooklyn apartment or in some New Mexico trailer or in some middle class ranch house in a Mississippi suburb, there's whites thinking how that coon ain't gonna put anything over on them.
Soothing the Savage Clinton:
Look, you know the way this went down. It's not complicated. We already know that the Obama campaign ran "one of the most rigorous vice-presidential vetting processes that Democrats could recall." So the Obama people went to Hillary Clinton and said, "We need a complete financial disclosure, including Bill's foundation," and Bill said, "You can kiss my hairy ass," and thus the whole thing was over for Hillary. It's that simple.
This ludicrous, unending coda to the primary campaign is nearly exclusively media-driven. Sure, yeah, some of the Clintons' people are acting like an athlete who took steroids trying to prove how often the tests show a false positive. He may have a point, but he still doesn't get to win. And he's not really the best spokesperson for testing reform. In other words, to the extent that any convention wrangling and bitter feelings are actually happening, Clinton and her people need to act like they lost.
But, see, the Rude Pundit doesn't believe that things are really as divided as we're often told. Sure, Hillary Clinton and her advisers are gonna still be smarting. They're fuckin' human beings. Right now, though, we're into convention season. There's little narrative tension at all. Tonight, for instance, other than whether or not Ted Kennedy will show, there's nothing happening we need to give a shit about. So, with about nine thousand hours of coverage to fill, you need a story. Thus fanning the fading embers of Obama rage among Clinton's everyday diehards is all the news networks and political reporters have got. And you can bet that they're huffing and puffing on that little flame like a fat manwhore on buck-a-blow night.
In her public appearances and pronouncements, Hillary Clinton has been downright classy. She's going to do what the Rude Pundit hoped she'd do in her Wednesday speech and formally release her delegates to vote for Obama. At this point, to turn away from the Democratic nominee because of hurt feelings is to be a fool and a victim, not just to the media whores, but also to manipulation by the Republicans.
The McCain campaign has decided to go with the Divide and Conquer strategy. First there was the pissy little ad saying that Obama didn't even consider Clinton for the vice presidency (which Clinton slapped down). Now there's the infinitely more effective ad featuring Clinton turncoat Debra Bartoshevich saying how she now supports John McCain and that "It's okay" for a lot of Democrats to follow her lead. It's a cute, lively piece, one that's a bit of a rulebreaker in political ad-dom.
And, holy fuck, is it creepy and stinking of desperation. In fact, the whole McCain strategy towards ex-Hillary voters seems to be that of the skeevy guy who waits until last call at the bar to pick up the drunkest woman who hasn't hooked up, bring her home and have a fast fuck, so sloppy and instantly regretted by her. The thing is, the dude from the bar thinks he's doing the woman a favor, making her feel special for a few minutes when, in reality, he just wants to bust a nut into something living that's not his own hand. And, of course, not ever call again.
If you talk to that woman the next day, you wanna say to her, "C'mon, don't you have more self-respect than that?"
Look, you know the way this went down. It's not complicated. We already know that the Obama campaign ran "one of the most rigorous vice-presidential vetting processes that Democrats could recall." So the Obama people went to Hillary Clinton and said, "We need a complete financial disclosure, including Bill's foundation," and Bill said, "You can kiss my hairy ass," and thus the whole thing was over for Hillary. It's that simple.
This ludicrous, unending coda to the primary campaign is nearly exclusively media-driven. Sure, yeah, some of the Clintons' people are acting like an athlete who took steroids trying to prove how often the tests show a false positive. He may have a point, but he still doesn't get to win. And he's not really the best spokesperson for testing reform. In other words, to the extent that any convention wrangling and bitter feelings are actually happening, Clinton and her people need to act like they lost.
But, see, the Rude Pundit doesn't believe that things are really as divided as we're often told. Sure, Hillary Clinton and her advisers are gonna still be smarting. They're fuckin' human beings. Right now, though, we're into convention season. There's little narrative tension at all. Tonight, for instance, other than whether or not Ted Kennedy will show, there's nothing happening we need to give a shit about. So, with about nine thousand hours of coverage to fill, you need a story. Thus fanning the fading embers of Obama rage among Clinton's everyday diehards is all the news networks and political reporters have got. And you can bet that they're huffing and puffing on that little flame like a fat manwhore on buck-a-blow night.
In her public appearances and pronouncements, Hillary Clinton has been downright classy. She's going to do what the Rude Pundit hoped she'd do in her Wednesday speech and formally release her delegates to vote for Obama. At this point, to turn away from the Democratic nominee because of hurt feelings is to be a fool and a victim, not just to the media whores, but also to manipulation by the Republicans.
The McCain campaign has decided to go with the Divide and Conquer strategy. First there was the pissy little ad saying that Obama didn't even consider Clinton for the vice presidency (which Clinton slapped down). Now there's the infinitely more effective ad featuring Clinton turncoat Debra Bartoshevich saying how she now supports John McCain and that "It's okay" for a lot of Democrats to follow her lead. It's a cute, lively piece, one that's a bit of a rulebreaker in political ad-dom.
And, holy fuck, is it creepy and stinking of desperation. In fact, the whole McCain strategy towards ex-Hillary voters seems to be that of the skeevy guy who waits until last call at the bar to pick up the drunkest woman who hasn't hooked up, bring her home and have a fast fuck, so sloppy and instantly regretted by her. The thing is, the dude from the bar thinks he's doing the woman a favor, making her feel special for a few minutes when, in reality, he just wants to bust a nut into something living that's not his own hand. And, of course, not ever call again.
If you talk to that woman the next day, you wanna say to her, "C'mon, don't you have more self-respect than that?"
A Word or Two Regarding Joe Biden:
Still in an ouzo haze (thanks, Talia), but here's a couple of observations from when the phone vibrated at 3 a.m.:
1. Biden's son is heading to Iraq. That's the kind of political street cred it takes something like five and a half years in a prison camp to earn.
2. Biden is a tough motherfucker. God tried to take him out with a double brain aneurysm, and Biden kicked God in the nuts. Don't you want a Vice President who can kick God in the nuts and not be allied with Satan?
3. Ron Fournier of the AP is a little bitch. Biden must have pissed him off somewhere down the road.
4. Yeah, he ain't perfect (see the Clarence Thomas hearings and his anti-Obama comments that are already being used against him). But if you're complaining, would you seriously have wanted the media talking about the tension between Obama and Clinton(s) for the next four to eight years? And would you have wanted to explain to every non-Virginian just who the fuck Tim Kaine is?
(An earlier version of this post said that Biden had brain cancer. It has been corrected to accurately reflect exactly how hard God tried to smite him. God's still gotta put an icepack on his balls whenever he thinks about Biden.)
Still in an ouzo haze (thanks, Talia), but here's a couple of observations from when the phone vibrated at 3 a.m.:
1. Biden's son is heading to Iraq. That's the kind of political street cred it takes something like five and a half years in a prison camp to earn.
2. Biden is a tough motherfucker. God tried to take him out with a double brain aneurysm, and Biden kicked God in the nuts. Don't you want a Vice President who can kick God in the nuts and not be allied with Satan?
3. Ron Fournier of the AP is a little bitch. Biden must have pissed him off somewhere down the road.
4. Yeah, he ain't perfect (see the Clarence Thomas hearings and his anti-Obama comments that are already being used against him). But if you're complaining, would you seriously have wanted the media talking about the tension between Obama and Clinton(s) for the next four to eight years? And would you have wanted to explain to every non-Virginian just who the fuck Tim Kaine is?
(An earlier version of this post said that Biden had brain cancer. It has been corrected to accurately reflect exactly how hard God tried to smite him. God's still gotta put an icepack on his balls whenever he thinks about Biden.)
John McCain: Using the POW Excuse Since At Least 1990:
In the dank realms of motherfuckery, from which spring forth the cretinous vermin who populate our current body politic, John McCain occupies a special place. For he is such a devious bag of douche that it's almost impossible to see how much of a motherfucker he is through the oozy coating of righteousness that glazes him. But that sheen is dimming more and more each day, as McCain and Obama learn just how much a lie it is that there's any such thing as a new way to run a political campaign. (Side note: It's the reason that the Rude Pundit hopes Obama picks Biden for VP - that motherfucker's a pit pull who enjoys prancing in the bloody sprinkler left behind after he gets his jaws locked on an opponent's jugular.)
Oh, the shit that will come out in the next few months. For instance, Cindy McCain blamed her husband for her addiction to prescription painkillers back twenty years ago. Why go on when Ms. McCain herself can do it:
"[M]y pain was more than just physical. The Keating Five savings and loan scandal had just blown up, and my husband was implicated. (I became a focus of the investigation when I couldn't find receipts showing that John and I had reimbursed the Keatings for a vacation we took to the Bahamas.) The first time I ever heard of the Keating Five, I was in the hospital, recovering from my first back surgery. A resident came in, threw a newspaper down on my bed and said, 'Gee, I guess your husband's not so perfect after all.' Throughout the investigation, the painkillers cushioned me. The newspaper articles didn't hurt as much, and I didn't hurt as much. I can remember sitting in the Senate hearings, listening to Howell Heflin saying terrible things not just about my husband but about me. The pills made me feel euphoric and free." This is from Newsweek, April 9 2001, so it's not new info, but context is really where all meaning exists, and 2008 is a way different backdrop than 2001.
Of course, McCain's greatest bit of rank whorishness has been the way he and his staff use his time as a POW in 'Nam to brush aside any allegations of being less than impeccably honorable. Seriously, if you have to say about your candidate when he can't remember how many houses he owns, "This is a guy who lived in one house for five and a half years -- in prison," as McCain spokestooge Brian Rogers did yesterday, then your candidate is fucking worthless.
McCain's been playing that Hanoi Hilton card any time he gets into trouble. Back in the bad old days of the Keating Five, the scandal that dare not be mentioned until the Obama campaign sees the whites of McCain's eyes, McCain and his friends tossed it out there like a pocket ace. According to the Washington Post on November 21, 1990, McCain told Keating he "had not spent 5 1/2 years in a [North Vietnamese] prisoner of war camp to have his courage or integrity questioned," although the logical connection there seems amiss. Earlier, calling on a Senate ethics panel to quickly issue a decision involving McCain's case, supporter Bob Dole said, "He has been held hostage before under very difficult circumstances. So let us not keep him hostage here in the Senate," according to the New York Times on October 23, 1990.
McCain's own people see him as so horribly traumatized by his POW tenure that he can't be asked to bother with things like adhering to ethics guidelines or remembering the number of homes he owns. Since when is PTSD a qualification for president?
In the dank realms of motherfuckery, from which spring forth the cretinous vermin who populate our current body politic, John McCain occupies a special place. For he is such a devious bag of douche that it's almost impossible to see how much of a motherfucker he is through the oozy coating of righteousness that glazes him. But that sheen is dimming more and more each day, as McCain and Obama learn just how much a lie it is that there's any such thing as a new way to run a political campaign. (Side note: It's the reason that the Rude Pundit hopes Obama picks Biden for VP - that motherfucker's a pit pull who enjoys prancing in the bloody sprinkler left behind after he gets his jaws locked on an opponent's jugular.)
Oh, the shit that will come out in the next few months. For instance, Cindy McCain blamed her husband for her addiction to prescription painkillers back twenty years ago. Why go on when Ms. McCain herself can do it:
"[M]y pain was more than just physical. The Keating Five savings and loan scandal had just blown up, and my husband was implicated. (I became a focus of the investigation when I couldn't find receipts showing that John and I had reimbursed the Keatings for a vacation we took to the Bahamas.) The first time I ever heard of the Keating Five, I was in the hospital, recovering from my first back surgery. A resident came in, threw a newspaper down on my bed and said, 'Gee, I guess your husband's not so perfect after all.' Throughout the investigation, the painkillers cushioned me. The newspaper articles didn't hurt as much, and I didn't hurt as much. I can remember sitting in the Senate hearings, listening to Howell Heflin saying terrible things not just about my husband but about me. The pills made me feel euphoric and free." This is from Newsweek, April 9 2001, so it's not new info, but context is really where all meaning exists, and 2008 is a way different backdrop than 2001.
Of course, McCain's greatest bit of rank whorishness has been the way he and his staff use his time as a POW in 'Nam to brush aside any allegations of being less than impeccably honorable. Seriously, if you have to say about your candidate when he can't remember how many houses he owns, "This is a guy who lived in one house for five and a half years -- in prison," as McCain spokestooge Brian Rogers did yesterday, then your candidate is fucking worthless.
McCain's been playing that Hanoi Hilton card any time he gets into trouble. Back in the bad old days of the Keating Five, the scandal that dare not be mentioned until the Obama campaign sees the whites of McCain's eyes, McCain and his friends tossed it out there like a pocket ace. According to the Washington Post on November 21, 1990, McCain told Keating he "had not spent 5 1/2 years in a [North Vietnamese] prisoner of war camp to have his courage or integrity questioned," although the logical connection there seems amiss. Earlier, calling on a Senate ethics panel to quickly issue a decision involving McCain's case, supporter Bob Dole said, "He has been held hostage before under very difficult circumstances. So let us not keep him hostage here in the Senate," according to the New York Times on October 23, 1990.
McCain's own people see him as so horribly traumatized by his POW tenure that he can't be asked to bother with things like adhering to ethics guidelines or remembering the number of homes he owns. Since when is PTSD a qualification for president?
In Brief: Louisiana Doesn't Want You If You're Gay:
One of the charming things about Louisiana is how stubbornly the state clings to its ass backwardsness, like a high school loser clings to the first girl that blows him, no matter how pathetic and sad it eventually makes him look. It's as if stupidity and prejudice are points of pride with Louisiana, as if it's a way of getting tourist dollars: "Come to Louisiana, where we legislate science out of the classroom." Hell, at least that way, when people go down to visit, it can be quaint and charming, like visiting Amish country, not believing that Americans can actually choose to live like that in this day and age.
So, while Louisiana hasn't yet given up on modern technology (although, really, and, c'mon, how else do the evil thoughts get there?), Governor Bobby "the Exorcist" Jindal, he the great brown hope of Republicans, is letting expire an executive order by the previous governor, Kathleen Blanco, that added "sexual orientation" to the list of reasons the state could not discriminate for hiring or contracts. Blanco did this because the Legislature refused to pass any amendments to state policy adding the protection for gays and lesbians. It made them feel icky and Jeeeezus would get pissy about it, one supposes.
Jindal's thinking? "The reason for allowing the order to lapse is that I don’t think it is necessary to create additional special categories or special right," or, in other words, because he hates fags and dykes. As Gene Mills, head of the Louisiana Family Forum (motto: "Making sure our Christ-suckling young 'uns stay idiots to perpetuate our horribly narrow world view") put it, "Gov. Jindal comes from a different mindset, understanding the damage that this potentially poses to children and to the economy."
Yep, they believe that rampant homos have done nothing but molest and rape the children of Louisiana. And they'd be right, if you replaced "rampant homos" with "Catholic priests." As far as the economy goes, well, if you define "economy" as the amount of money faith-based organizations can get, then, sure, there's an impact. Under Blanco's order (even though she insisted this wasn't true), it meant that if you are from a relief organization from, say, the Southern Baptists, you couldn't discriminate based on sexual orientation when hiring. And if your federal money can't be used to prevent gays and lesbians from handing out food to the poor, then what good is it?
So Blanco's order, which reinstated an order from Democrat Edwin Edwards that was rescinded under Republican Mike Foster, will be gone. If you're gay, working for the state, and living in New Orleans, the state government just said that the recovery of the city is less important than whether or not you fuck someone of the same sex. And the order also banned "harassment," and now with that off the table, your co-workers can call you "fag" freely.
Ah, Louisiana. One step up and two steps back, the glacier of harmful, outdated ideology.
One of the charming things about Louisiana is how stubbornly the state clings to its ass backwardsness, like a high school loser clings to the first girl that blows him, no matter how pathetic and sad it eventually makes him look. It's as if stupidity and prejudice are points of pride with Louisiana, as if it's a way of getting tourist dollars: "Come to Louisiana, where we legislate science out of the classroom." Hell, at least that way, when people go down to visit, it can be quaint and charming, like visiting Amish country, not believing that Americans can actually choose to live like that in this day and age.
So, while Louisiana hasn't yet given up on modern technology (although, really, and, c'mon, how else do the evil thoughts get there?), Governor Bobby "the Exorcist" Jindal, he the great brown hope of Republicans, is letting expire an executive order by the previous governor, Kathleen Blanco, that added "sexual orientation" to the list of reasons the state could not discriminate for hiring or contracts. Blanco did this because the Legislature refused to pass any amendments to state policy adding the protection for gays and lesbians. It made them feel icky and Jeeeezus would get pissy about it, one supposes.
Jindal's thinking? "The reason for allowing the order to lapse is that I don’t think it is necessary to create additional special categories or special right," or, in other words, because he hates fags and dykes. As Gene Mills, head of the Louisiana Family Forum (motto: "Making sure our Christ-suckling young 'uns stay idiots to perpetuate our horribly narrow world view") put it, "Gov. Jindal comes from a different mindset, understanding the damage that this potentially poses to children and to the economy."
Yep, they believe that rampant homos have done nothing but molest and rape the children of Louisiana. And they'd be right, if you replaced "rampant homos" with "Catholic priests." As far as the economy goes, well, if you define "economy" as the amount of money faith-based organizations can get, then, sure, there's an impact. Under Blanco's order (even though she insisted this wasn't true), it meant that if you are from a relief organization from, say, the Southern Baptists, you couldn't discriminate based on sexual orientation when hiring. And if your federal money can't be used to prevent gays and lesbians from handing out food to the poor, then what good is it?
So Blanco's order, which reinstated an order from Democrat Edwin Edwards that was rescinded under Republican Mike Foster, will be gone. If you're gay, working for the state, and living in New Orleans, the state government just said that the recovery of the city is less important than whether or not you fuck someone of the same sex. And the order also banned "harassment," and now with that off the table, your co-workers can call you "fag" freely.
Ah, Louisiana. One step up and two steps back, the glacier of harmful, outdated ideology.
The Rude Pundit Heading to Minneapolis During Republican Convention:
Anyone got some spare press passes hanging around? (See note below.)
So, like, the header pretty much says it all. Through a series of bizarre and fortunate acts and incidents, the Rude Pundit is now working with a group of crazed, talented people, almost all of them filthy-mouthed fuckers, writing for former Air America host and creator of The Daily Show Lizz Winstead's weekly stage show, Shoot the Messenger.
And the show is heading up to Minneapolis to be performed at the Parkway Theater during the Republican National Convention, or, more specifically, September 2-4. Thus, the Rude Pundit is traveling to the Twin Cities to get his fried Twinkie on and make much mock. So, c'mon, rude Minneapolis boys and ruder St. Pauli girls, get your tickets to this damned funny show (with guests like Billy Bragg showing up, too). It's the antidote to your conservative stooge hangover.
But when he's not working, the Rude Pundit'll also be roaming the St. Paul streets, reporting to you from the protests and the gatherings, talking to people good and evil, posting audio interviews during the week of September 1. Oh, Michelle Bachmann, you nutzoid MILF, won't you shoot tequila with the Rude Pundit?
More info soon.
Note: The Rude Pundit was serious about the credentials. He'll behave if he gets into the convention so no one gets the boot. Scout's motherfucking honor. Anyone got space on their press credentials list? (Markos, the Rude Pundit's lookin' at you...)
Anyone got some spare press passes hanging around? (See note below.)
So, like, the header pretty much says it all. Through a series of bizarre and fortunate acts and incidents, the Rude Pundit is now working with a group of crazed, talented people, almost all of them filthy-mouthed fuckers, writing for former Air America host and creator of The Daily Show Lizz Winstead's weekly stage show, Shoot the Messenger.
And the show is heading up to Minneapolis to be performed at the Parkway Theater during the Republican National Convention, or, more specifically, September 2-4. Thus, the Rude Pundit is traveling to the Twin Cities to get his fried Twinkie on and make much mock. So, c'mon, rude Minneapolis boys and ruder St. Pauli girls, get your tickets to this damned funny show (with guests like Billy Bragg showing up, too). It's the antidote to your conservative stooge hangover.
But when he's not working, the Rude Pundit'll also be roaming the St. Paul streets, reporting to you from the protests and the gatherings, talking to people good and evil, posting audio interviews during the week of September 1. Oh, Michelle Bachmann, you nutzoid MILF, won't you shoot tequila with the Rude Pundit?
More info soon.
Note: The Rude Pundit was serious about the credentials. He'll behave if he gets into the convention so no one gets the boot. Scout's motherfucking honor. Anyone got space on their press credentials list? (Markos, the Rude Pundit's lookin' at you...)
These People May Be Enticed to Vote for Barack Obama:
That Toby Keith is a Democrat is not news. He was pretty open about it when he was such a bastard during the whole Dixie Chicks insanity a few years back. But the fact that he's now said openly that he supports Barack Obama? Shit, in country music circles, that's pretty close to announcing that he's gay. The Obama campaign needs to jump on this - now.
If you don't see what's so fuckin' important about some singer's endorsement, you don't understand country music fans. We're talking a guy who has cultivated a bad-ass rural American image, whose tour is called "Biggest and Baddest," who's played at Bagram Airbase in Afghanistan and over at bases in Iraq, whose fans call themselves the "Warriors," who was voted the sexiest man in country music just this past month. Motherfucker sings songs advertising Ford trucks, fer chrissake.
So, now, when Keith sings to soldiers and large crowds of white people, "You’ll be sorry that you messed with/ The U.S. of A./ Cause we'll put a boot in your ass/ It's the American way," he thinks Barack Obama should be wearing that boot. When he sings, as he does in "America Soldier" in the voice of that soldier, "Beside my brothers and my sisters I will proudly take a stand,/When liberty's in jeopardy I will always do what's right,/ I'm out here on the front lines, so sleep in peace tonight," he trusts Barack Obama to decide when to place those soldiers in jeopardy. And when he sings, as he does in "Beer for my Horses," the song that mentions lynching outlaws, "We'll raise up our glasses against evil forces," he wants to toast with Obama.
Yeah, Keith is still a fucker in many ways, but politics is about taking advantage of opportunities. And if you want to counter the bullshit image of Barack Obama as an elitist, weak, effete youngster, then you could do far worse than to get the muscular dude in the cowboy hat out there for you.
(Picture from here.)
That Toby Keith is a Democrat is not news. He was pretty open about it when he was such a bastard during the whole Dixie Chicks insanity a few years back. But the fact that he's now said openly that he supports Barack Obama? Shit, in country music circles, that's pretty close to announcing that he's gay. The Obama campaign needs to jump on this - now.
If you don't see what's so fuckin' important about some singer's endorsement, you don't understand country music fans. We're talking a guy who has cultivated a bad-ass rural American image, whose tour is called "Biggest and Baddest," who's played at Bagram Airbase in Afghanistan and over at bases in Iraq, whose fans call themselves the "Warriors," who was voted the sexiest man in country music just this past month. Motherfucker sings songs advertising Ford trucks, fer chrissake.
So, now, when Keith sings to soldiers and large crowds of white people, "You’ll be sorry that you messed with/ The U.S. of A./ Cause we'll put a boot in your ass/ It's the American way," he thinks Barack Obama should be wearing that boot. When he sings, as he does in "America Soldier" in the voice of that soldier, "Beside my brothers and my sisters I will proudly take a stand,/When liberty's in jeopardy I will always do what's right,/ I'm out here on the front lines, so sleep in peace tonight," he trusts Barack Obama to decide when to place those soldiers in jeopardy. And when he sings, as he does in "Beer for my Horses," the song that mentions lynching outlaws, "We'll raise up our glasses against evil forces," he wants to toast with Obama.
Yeah, Keith is still a fucker in many ways, but politics is about taking advantage of opportunities. And if you want to counter the bullshit image of Barack Obama as an elitist, weak, effete youngster, then you could do far worse than to get the muscular dude in the cowboy hat out there for you.
(Picture from here.)
John McCain Loves Blowing David Petraeus:
At night, during the sweetest of sleeps, John McCain dreams that he gives General David Petraeus the great gift of fellatio. Indeed, so often does McCain dream of sucking the cock of the surging soldier that he awakens touching the corner of his mouth, thinking there might be sticky residue remaining there. In his dreams, McCain is his younger self, the hotshot pilot wannabe, not giving a shit about hotdogging because jets have ejection seats and parachutes. He doesn't care about all the pussy being thrown his way, even though he's married. No, all he cares about is how often he can find Petraeus and nourish himself at the General's man-teat.
Sometimes, in his haze, they are in a classroom closet at Annapolis. Sometimes they are in a tiny berth on the USS Forrestal. Most of the time, though, they are alone in a bamboo cage in the shit. It is late at night, and it is the start of the wet season, but even in the rain, Petraeus tenderly nurses McCain's wounds, tells him it's okay that he signed that letter disparaging America, and, to let him know that everything will work out, he places his hard dick into McCain's aching mouth, fucking the POW's face, the effulgent head tickling the back of McCain's throat, McCain in tears, so grateful for the warm load he knows he'll be able to take in whole from his man, his general.
Those tears streak his wincing face when he wakes up. He knows he may not ever tell Petraeus about his desires. At least not in those words. Instead, he has devoted himself to making sure David, dear David, will get a sense of the depth of his choad guzzling desires by praising him at every possible opportunity. He has called this man leading a nearly broken military in a grubby little regional conflict "one of the great military leaders in American history." All of McCain's hopes and aspirations are bound up with him. For McCain equals Petraeus equals Iraq, and, in McCain's perverted syllogism, as goes one, there goes the other.
Such abiding love needs to be challenged directly in order to expose its cracks. The Obama campaign needs to go after McCain's utopian beliefs in the rightness and goodness of David Petraeus and the Iraq mission. And he needs to do it quickly, after the conventions at the latest, because right now McCain is trying to make Obama's opposition to the war into an act of treachery.
First, of all, will someone in the mainstream media please explain that when one is absolutely unvarying in one's position on something that to call it "varying" is to be a fucking liar and/or retarded. The Rude Pundit's pointed this out before, but it's become a standard line in McCain's speeches and deserves to be smacked down like a leg-humping terrier. Here it is again, from his Mussolini-worthy speech before the Veterans of Foreign Wars: "[A] lot of people are still trying to square Senator Obama's varying positions on the surge in Iraq. First, he opposed the surge and confidently predicted that it would fail. Then he tried to prevent funding for the troops who carried out the surge...Senator Obama commits the greater error of insisting that even in hindsight, he would oppose the surge." There is no varying. There is, in fact, a lack of varying that is rather impressive. If Obama were now saying he wished he had supported the escalation, then he'd be varying.
So, Obama needs some lines to come back at McCain, something like, say, "Senator McCain wants to win an election to keep fighting the war. I want to win an election to end the war." The ballsier line would be "Senator McCain wants to keep fighting a war that's over."
Or perhaps Obama needs an ad or two to point out the numerous times that McCain has called Iraq a "sovereign nation," yet refuses to agree with the Iraqi government on the need for a timeline on withdrawal. Howzabout this: point out that the vast majority of the American people want the troops home, the vast majority of the Iraqi people want the troops out, and the Iraqi government wants that timeline. Point out that John McCain doesn't care what anyone else thinks. Do we wants another stubborn bastard as president? (Leave out the bastard part; although...)
Or how about this: press McCain again and again to say how much longer he's willing to stay. He says that he thinks it might could possibly be done in 2013. What if all the goals McCain lays out on his website are not achieved by 2013? How much longer? And if he says he won't say, then that's as good as forever. And hammer that fucker home.
In other words, right now McCain is trying transform Obama into a pussy politician whose judgment is clouded by ambition. Obama's that greedy, uppity high-yellow poser. And even though he's using an issue where more Americans agree with Obama to go after the Democrat, Obama needs to turn that shit around. It's not enough to say McCain is wrong. He's gotta make the country fear McCain. He's gotta turn McCain into that crazy, out of touch old fuck who's gonna blow shit up, hiding behind the skirt of the allegedly unimpeachable, glowing David Petraeus.
Bush and McCain keep saying that they follow what the "generals on the ground" tell them. That's a punk-ass position. Point out that a fuckin' commander-in-chief ain't just a tool who does what the generals say. A commander-in-chief tells the generals what to do.
McCain's gonna keep putting up that Petraeus wall. For, indeed, it is McCain's dearest wish, if he should become president, to be standing one of the decadent rooms of a palace of Saddam Hussein's, alone with Petraeus, and to place a gold-threaded pillow under his hobbled knees, and to look Petraeus in the eyes as he unzips the man's fly and offers his bobbing thanks.
At night, during the sweetest of sleeps, John McCain dreams that he gives General David Petraeus the great gift of fellatio. Indeed, so often does McCain dream of sucking the cock of the surging soldier that he awakens touching the corner of his mouth, thinking there might be sticky residue remaining there. In his dreams, McCain is his younger self, the hotshot pilot wannabe, not giving a shit about hotdogging because jets have ejection seats and parachutes. He doesn't care about all the pussy being thrown his way, even though he's married. No, all he cares about is how often he can find Petraeus and nourish himself at the General's man-teat.
Sometimes, in his haze, they are in a classroom closet at Annapolis. Sometimes they are in a tiny berth on the USS Forrestal. Most of the time, though, they are alone in a bamboo cage in the shit. It is late at night, and it is the start of the wet season, but even in the rain, Petraeus tenderly nurses McCain's wounds, tells him it's okay that he signed that letter disparaging America, and, to let him know that everything will work out, he places his hard dick into McCain's aching mouth, fucking the POW's face, the effulgent head tickling the back of McCain's throat, McCain in tears, so grateful for the warm load he knows he'll be able to take in whole from his man, his general.
Those tears streak his wincing face when he wakes up. He knows he may not ever tell Petraeus about his desires. At least not in those words. Instead, he has devoted himself to making sure David, dear David, will get a sense of the depth of his choad guzzling desires by praising him at every possible opportunity. He has called this man leading a nearly broken military in a grubby little regional conflict "one of the great military leaders in American history." All of McCain's hopes and aspirations are bound up with him. For McCain equals Petraeus equals Iraq, and, in McCain's perverted syllogism, as goes one, there goes the other.
Such abiding love needs to be challenged directly in order to expose its cracks. The Obama campaign needs to go after McCain's utopian beliefs in the rightness and goodness of David Petraeus and the Iraq mission. And he needs to do it quickly, after the conventions at the latest, because right now McCain is trying to make Obama's opposition to the war into an act of treachery.
First, of all, will someone in the mainstream media please explain that when one is absolutely unvarying in one's position on something that to call it "varying" is to be a fucking liar and/or retarded. The Rude Pundit's pointed this out before, but it's become a standard line in McCain's speeches and deserves to be smacked down like a leg-humping terrier. Here it is again, from his Mussolini-worthy speech before the Veterans of Foreign Wars: "[A] lot of people are still trying to square Senator Obama's varying positions on the surge in Iraq. First, he opposed the surge and confidently predicted that it would fail. Then he tried to prevent funding for the troops who carried out the surge...Senator Obama commits the greater error of insisting that even in hindsight, he would oppose the surge." There is no varying. There is, in fact, a lack of varying that is rather impressive. If Obama were now saying he wished he had supported the escalation, then he'd be varying.
So, Obama needs some lines to come back at McCain, something like, say, "Senator McCain wants to win an election to keep fighting the war. I want to win an election to end the war." The ballsier line would be "Senator McCain wants to keep fighting a war that's over."
Or perhaps Obama needs an ad or two to point out the numerous times that McCain has called Iraq a "sovereign nation," yet refuses to agree with the Iraqi government on the need for a timeline on withdrawal. Howzabout this: point out that the vast majority of the American people want the troops home, the vast majority of the Iraqi people want the troops out, and the Iraqi government wants that timeline. Point out that John McCain doesn't care what anyone else thinks. Do we wants another stubborn bastard as president? (Leave out the bastard part; although...)
Or how about this: press McCain again and again to say how much longer he's willing to stay. He says that he thinks it might could possibly be done in 2013. What if all the goals McCain lays out on his website are not achieved by 2013? How much longer? And if he says he won't say, then that's as good as forever. And hammer that fucker home.
In other words, right now McCain is trying transform Obama into a pussy politician whose judgment is clouded by ambition. Obama's that greedy, uppity high-yellow poser. And even though he's using an issue where more Americans agree with Obama to go after the Democrat, Obama needs to turn that shit around. It's not enough to say McCain is wrong. He's gotta make the country fear McCain. He's gotta turn McCain into that crazy, out of touch old fuck who's gonna blow shit up, hiding behind the skirt of the allegedly unimpeachable, glowing David Petraeus.
Bush and McCain keep saying that they follow what the "generals on the ground" tell them. That's a punk-ass position. Point out that a fuckin' commander-in-chief ain't just a tool who does what the generals say. A commander-in-chief tells the generals what to do.
McCain's gonna keep putting up that Petraeus wall. For, indeed, it is McCain's dearest wish, if he should become president, to be standing one of the decadent rooms of a palace of Saddam Hussein's, alone with Petraeus, and to place a gold-threaded pillow under his hobbled knees, and to look Petraeus in the eyes as he unzips the man's fly and offers his bobbing thanks.
Riding Rick Warren's Saddleback:
According to the transcripts from CNN and his own website, Rick Warren did not play fair with the presidential candidates. The first question Rick Warren asked John McCain was not the first question that he asked Barack Obama. They are immensely different. Warren quoted Proverbs and then asked Obama, "Who are the three wisest people you know in your life, and who are you going to rely on heavily in your administration?" Asked two separate questions, framed by biblical "wisdom," Obama gave two separate answers, one personal, one political.
Warren asked John McCain, "Who are the three wisest people that you know that you would rely on heavily in an administration?" That's not just different phrasing. That's an entirely different question. Warren did not preface his query to McCain with a Bible verse. So the context and the actual question were not the same as for Obama. McCain could more easily give his military guy, black guy, and woman answer.
It'd be like asking one orgy participant, "Whose ass do you want to fuck first, and do you want snacks?" and asking another, "Whose ass do you want to eat snacks out of?" The activities are significantly different.
Beyond whether or not McCain listened to part of Obama's "conversation" with Warren while in his limo on the way to the Saddleback Church and not in a "cone of silence," as the pastor promised, beyond whether or not his cross-in-the-dirt story is stolen, what very few people have commented on in the mainstream media is the way McCain actually answered many of the questions that Warren asked. While Obama fell into the liberal trap of wrestling and grasping with ideas and, holy shit, nuance, McCain used every question as a chance to repeat the same lines from his campaign stops.
Warren asked about an issue McCain had changed his mind on, and McCain launched into his endless diatribe about offshore oil drilling. Instead of talking about how he came to shift positions, McCain talked about nuclear power and the French. Asked about evil in the world, McCain made the bold assertion, "No one, no one should be allowed to take thousands of American — innocent American lives." When Warren asked McCain not to give his stump speech on education, McCain gave his stump speech on education.
And while all the pundits positively creamed themselves with McCain's oh-so-firm answer on abortion, bravely stating in an evangelical church that he believes life begins at conception, when Warren asked him, "where do you move from middle class to rich? Is it $100,000, is it $50,000, is it $200,000?" McCain descended into a kind of madness, a deranged mixing of talking points and glib pop psychology.
First he said, "Some of the richest people I’ve ever known in my life are the most unhappy," which had nothing to do with the question." When McCain finally gave a number, he tossed out, for a laugh, "$5 million." Instead, he turned it into a chance to repeat his standard lines about cutting taxes and wasteful government spending, about Congress going on vacation, about economic problems for poor people that can't be solved no matter how many tax cuts you give, ending with, "I can lead, and I know that our best days are ahead of us."
Yes, Obama did occasionally fall into campaign rhetoric mode. Yes, his abortion answer was a fuck-up in wording - "above my pay grade" was actually a way of saying, "I'm not a fuckin' medical researcher or a goddamn priest." But Obama talked to Warren, answered Warren's questions, engaged in a conversation with Warren, at least trying to give the appearance that he was listening to the goateed pastor. Hell, Obama was the one who acted like he knew how to behave with a pastor and seemed way more at home talking about morality and biblical references.
McCain came into the Saddleback Church having rehearsed lines, addressing the audience, ready with stories about his captivity and applause lines for a friendly crowd. He was constantly veering off-topic to tell a story like, well, an old man with an audience. And who the fuck could blame him for pandering?
But here's something that should be at least somewhat disturbing. When talking about foreign policy, twice McCain referred to former Soviet states as "little." Georgia is a "great little nation" and a "beautiful little country." Belarus and others are "little countries." The infantilization of Eastern Europe bespeaks a condescension to their needs, as well as setting up a parental reliance on the United States, perhaps even leading to military intervention in conflicts with Russia, which, one presumes, is not little in McCain's imperial mindset.
McCain also answered the question about his greatest moral failure with "the failure of my first marriage." So the Republican nominee is saying that his current marriage, with children, is a product of a his moral failure. Well, shit, maybe that's why Cindy McCain seemingly adopted a child without consulting her husband.
Oh, and by the way, who the fuck cares what a fat fuck rich preacher has to say beyond his congregation? Thanks, candidates, for boosting his book sales and legitimizing the church as a deciding factor in the presidential race.
According to the transcripts from CNN and his own website, Rick Warren did not play fair with the presidential candidates. The first question Rick Warren asked John McCain was not the first question that he asked Barack Obama. They are immensely different. Warren quoted Proverbs and then asked Obama, "Who are the three wisest people you know in your life, and who are you going to rely on heavily in your administration?" Asked two separate questions, framed by biblical "wisdom," Obama gave two separate answers, one personal, one political.
Warren asked John McCain, "Who are the three wisest people that you know that you would rely on heavily in an administration?" That's not just different phrasing. That's an entirely different question. Warren did not preface his query to McCain with a Bible verse. So the context and the actual question were not the same as for Obama. McCain could more easily give his military guy, black guy, and woman answer.
It'd be like asking one orgy participant, "Whose ass do you want to fuck first, and do you want snacks?" and asking another, "Whose ass do you want to eat snacks out of?" The activities are significantly different.
Beyond whether or not McCain listened to part of Obama's "conversation" with Warren while in his limo on the way to the Saddleback Church and not in a "cone of silence," as the pastor promised, beyond whether or not his cross-in-the-dirt story is stolen, what very few people have commented on in the mainstream media is the way McCain actually answered many of the questions that Warren asked. While Obama fell into the liberal trap of wrestling and grasping with ideas and, holy shit, nuance, McCain used every question as a chance to repeat the same lines from his campaign stops.
Warren asked about an issue McCain had changed his mind on, and McCain launched into his endless diatribe about offshore oil drilling. Instead of talking about how he came to shift positions, McCain talked about nuclear power and the French. Asked about evil in the world, McCain made the bold assertion, "No one, no one should be allowed to take thousands of American — innocent American lives." When Warren asked McCain not to give his stump speech on education, McCain gave his stump speech on education.
And while all the pundits positively creamed themselves with McCain's oh-so-firm answer on abortion, bravely stating in an evangelical church that he believes life begins at conception, when Warren asked him, "where do you move from middle class to rich? Is it $100,000, is it $50,000, is it $200,000?" McCain descended into a kind of madness, a deranged mixing of talking points and glib pop psychology.
First he said, "Some of the richest people I’ve ever known in my life are the most unhappy," which had nothing to do with the question." When McCain finally gave a number, he tossed out, for a laugh, "$5 million." Instead, he turned it into a chance to repeat his standard lines about cutting taxes and wasteful government spending, about Congress going on vacation, about economic problems for poor people that can't be solved no matter how many tax cuts you give, ending with, "I can lead, and I know that our best days are ahead of us."
Yes, Obama did occasionally fall into campaign rhetoric mode. Yes, his abortion answer was a fuck-up in wording - "above my pay grade" was actually a way of saying, "I'm not a fuckin' medical researcher or a goddamn priest." But Obama talked to Warren, answered Warren's questions, engaged in a conversation with Warren, at least trying to give the appearance that he was listening to the goateed pastor. Hell, Obama was the one who acted like he knew how to behave with a pastor and seemed way more at home talking about morality and biblical references.
McCain came into the Saddleback Church having rehearsed lines, addressing the audience, ready with stories about his captivity and applause lines for a friendly crowd. He was constantly veering off-topic to tell a story like, well, an old man with an audience. And who the fuck could blame him for pandering?
But here's something that should be at least somewhat disturbing. When talking about foreign policy, twice McCain referred to former Soviet states as "little." Georgia is a "great little nation" and a "beautiful little country." Belarus and others are "little countries." The infantilization of Eastern Europe bespeaks a condescension to their needs, as well as setting up a parental reliance on the United States, perhaps even leading to military intervention in conflicts with Russia, which, one presumes, is not little in McCain's imperial mindset.
McCain also answered the question about his greatest moral failure with "the failure of my first marriage." So the Republican nominee is saying that his current marriage, with children, is a product of a his moral failure. Well, shit, maybe that's why Cindy McCain seemingly adopted a child without consulting her husband.
Oh, and by the way, who the fuck cares what a fat fuck rich preacher has to say beyond his congregation? Thanks, candidates, for boosting his book sales and legitimizing the church as a deciding factor in the presidential race.
Regarding the Warren Intermission: Holy Fuck, What Was That?:
The Rude Pundit's got one straight couple, one lesbian couple, and one tranny friend over for drinks and opium and pie, so he's gotta make this quick.
How dare Barack Obama not make Rick Warren's church into a place to repeat his hankie and applause lines?
And how much spackle did they put on John McCain's face?
More Monday.
The Rude Pundit's got one straight couple, one lesbian couple, and one tranny friend over for drinks and opium and pie, so he's gotta make this quick.
How dare Barack Obama not make Rick Warren's church into a place to repeat his hankie and applause lines?
And how much spackle did they put on John McCain's face?
More Monday.
Photos That Make Racists Want to Suck Down a Last Bud Before Tasting the Sweet Tang of Gun Oil:
The Rude Pundit's avoided all of the breathless, excitable, and totally useless speculation over who the candidates are gonna choose for their VP. But one of the amusing parts of the discussion has been the "Fuck You, Joe Lieberman" school of outrage for the possibility that the Connecticut Senator might be John McCain's pick for the Vice President spot. The Rude Pundit says, "Fuck, yeah. Bring that shit on."
Look at it from the point of view of your average racist white Christian(ish) American. We'll make this one a male. He's already decided there's no fuckin' way he'll vote for a Muslim nigger who looks like he's got a razor in his back pocket. But then all of a sudden the white guy puts the kike on the ticket? That's the tipping point, motherfuckers. All of a sudden ARWCA is lookin' at Bob Barr or, more likely, just staying home on Election Day and cleaning his guns to get ready for either the blacks to rape his wife or the Jews to repossess his house.
And, hell, in terms of otherness, Lieberman's far, far Jewier than Obama's black, and therefore way more of a threat. Hell, the Rude Pundit's vaguely Jewish, and he wouldn't want to try to split a check at a restaurant with Lieberman. Most whites wouldn't even cross the street if they saw Barack Obama heading their way. We on the left should be encouraging McCain to hang with his good buddy, Hebraic Joe.
So go ahead, McCain campaign. Try to create that illusion of bipartisanship by putting the non-Democrat on your ticket. In terms of potential gains and losses of voters, it's a fuckin' wash.
The Rude Pundit's avoided all of the breathless, excitable, and totally useless speculation over who the candidates are gonna choose for their VP. But one of the amusing parts of the discussion has been the "Fuck You, Joe Lieberman" school of outrage for the possibility that the Connecticut Senator might be John McCain's pick for the Vice President spot. The Rude Pundit says, "Fuck, yeah. Bring that shit on."
Look at it from the point of view of your average racist white Christian(ish) American. We'll make this one a male. He's already decided there's no fuckin' way he'll vote for a Muslim nigger who looks like he's got a razor in his back pocket. But then all of a sudden the white guy puts the kike on the ticket? That's the tipping point, motherfuckers. All of a sudden ARWCA is lookin' at Bob Barr or, more likely, just staying home on Election Day and cleaning his guns to get ready for either the blacks to rape his wife or the Jews to repossess his house.
And, hell, in terms of otherness, Lieberman's far, far Jewier than Obama's black, and therefore way more of a threat. Hell, the Rude Pundit's vaguely Jewish, and he wouldn't want to try to split a check at a restaurant with Lieberman. Most whites wouldn't even cross the street if they saw Barack Obama heading their way. We on the left should be encouraging McCain to hang with his good buddy, Hebraic Joe.
So go ahead, McCain campaign. Try to create that illusion of bipartisanship by putting the non-Democrat on your ticket. In terms of potential gains and losses of voters, it's a fuckin' wash.
When Do We Get to Beat Up an Old Man?:
Here's one of the most bizarro attempts to portray absolute consistency on a position as flip-flopping: In his speech to the Annual Convention of Disabled American Veterans this week, John McCain tried to describe "many problems in the shifting positions of my opponent, Senator Obama." Indeed, he reiterated what promised to be shocking proof that Obama lacks conviction: "With just three months to go before the election, a lot of folks are still trying to square Senator Obama's varying positions on the surge in Iraq." Holy fuck, the anxious vets must have thought, shit's about to go down.
And then McCain detailed what on first, second, and third glance, and, indeed, on deep observation, is a completely consistent belief by Obama: "First, he opposed the surge. Then he confidently predicted that it would fail. Then he tried to prevent funding for the troops who carried out the surge." So, just to make sure we got this right, Obama was against the surge, believed it would fail, and refused to vote for its funding. In what fucking universe is that a varying or shifting position? For McCain, this is proof that Obama is putting politics ahead of the country.
McCain's supposed final twist of the knife is to tell us that, even now, after the supposedly splendiferous surge has brought flower-shitting unicorns to the streets of Baghdad, "even in hindsight, [Obama] would oppose the surge." Again, McCain says this is an example of "all of these claims and positions by Senator Obama" for political expediency, when, in what most of us would call "reality," it's an example of a single position held even when everyone around is lying about it.
But that's the McCain candidacy in a goddamn nutshell, innit? The promise that he's going to tell us something or do something big and life-changing, when the truth is that he's just either lying to our faces or forgetting he ever said it in the first place. McCain is a master of bullshit, an unfathomably amoral spinner, all covered in the sheen of his sweat-slickened tortured body from 'Nam. If this motherfucker hadn't had his bones shattered by the NVA, who knew a breakable pussy when they smelled one, he'd be sucking beers in a trailer outside Flagstaff, pathetically cursing his father for making him believe he'd be something some day. Instead, because he can't lift his arms, he's Rove's perfect machine, a hateful fucker with a real military record and not a fake one.
Sometimes, when you're in a bar, a real bar with regulars, like a couple of places in Wrigleyville in Chicago that aren't infected with tourists or filled with flat-screens where the Rude Pundit liked to grab a couple of shots when he was working in that fair city a few years back, there's people who just decide they don't fuckin' like you. Old guys, guys who feel a sense of proprietorship over the place and any activity done or opinions given. Sure, if you've been to enough joints, you've experienced this, the cranky, grizzled fucks who think you're full of shit and think they know everything when they're just assholes who haven't been put in their place enough in their adult lives.
Most of the time, you just ignore it, when Old Man Johnny talks about how he can kick your ass, how he's taken down dudes twice as big as you are, how, even with his bum knee and arthritis, he could still knock your teeth out. Most of the time, you just nod and move to another part of the bar or you try to charm the bastard, get him a round or two. The Rude Pundit's favorite fight avoidance strategy: get 'em talking, for, indeed, chances are they're just looking for someone new to tell war stories to. (And, oh, the things the Rude Pundit has learned, about life, about lies, about history, from these grumpy drunks.)
Every once in a while, though, some wrinkled cock thinks he has something to prove, to himself, to some hot young piece of ass that's given him some attention, to other wrinkled cocks around him. And Old Man Johnny either wants to you to fight or get the fuck out of his bar. The best advice is to just walk away. Fights hurt. A lot.
But there's a rare occasion where everything lines up: Old Man Johnny's in your face, been in your face for hours, and you've had a shitty day, and the drinks have kicked you down the stairs instead of up, and, well, then fuck this old fucker and everything you've ever been taught about respecting your elders and other bullshit. Time for the old man to go back to school.
So here's the Rude Pundit's advice for Barack Obama's campaign: sometimes there's something ineffably and extraordinarily gratifying about beating down an old man. Sure, some will say that you're just hitting a weak old dude, but most will realize that he had it coming. It's like you're saying that the people who are gonna be alive for a while get to decide how shit goes down and what the order of things is gonna be. Even if it accomplishes nothing else but showing everyone else in the bar that you are not gonna take shit from anyone, it had to be done.
'Cause, right now, while Obama is walking out of the bar, telling everyone how it's a shame that Old Man Johnny's an alcoholic, Johnny's still in there, laughing about how Obama's such a pussy that he won't get his manicure dirty.
Or, to put it more directly, Karl Rove plays the long game. If the Obama campaign lets the McCain campaign get away with questioning Obama's patriotism again and again, and it has the desired Swift Boat effect, then, even if he wins, Obama's given his political opponents the way to wreck his agenda. And, sorry, an ad about how McCain's economic policies suck is the response equivalent of punching yourself in the balls.
Here's one of the most bizarro attempts to portray absolute consistency on a position as flip-flopping: In his speech to the Annual Convention of Disabled American Veterans this week, John McCain tried to describe "many problems in the shifting positions of my opponent, Senator Obama." Indeed, he reiterated what promised to be shocking proof that Obama lacks conviction: "With just three months to go before the election, a lot of folks are still trying to square Senator Obama's varying positions on the surge in Iraq." Holy fuck, the anxious vets must have thought, shit's about to go down.
And then McCain detailed what on first, second, and third glance, and, indeed, on deep observation, is a completely consistent belief by Obama: "First, he opposed the surge. Then he confidently predicted that it would fail. Then he tried to prevent funding for the troops who carried out the surge." So, just to make sure we got this right, Obama was against the surge, believed it would fail, and refused to vote for its funding. In what fucking universe is that a varying or shifting position? For McCain, this is proof that Obama is putting politics ahead of the country.
McCain's supposed final twist of the knife is to tell us that, even now, after the supposedly splendiferous surge has brought flower-shitting unicorns to the streets of Baghdad, "even in hindsight, [Obama] would oppose the surge." Again, McCain says this is an example of "all of these claims and positions by Senator Obama" for political expediency, when, in what most of us would call "reality," it's an example of a single position held even when everyone around is lying about it.
But that's the McCain candidacy in a goddamn nutshell, innit? The promise that he's going to tell us something or do something big and life-changing, when the truth is that he's just either lying to our faces or forgetting he ever said it in the first place. McCain is a master of bullshit, an unfathomably amoral spinner, all covered in the sheen of his sweat-slickened tortured body from 'Nam. If this motherfucker hadn't had his bones shattered by the NVA, who knew a breakable pussy when they smelled one, he'd be sucking beers in a trailer outside Flagstaff, pathetically cursing his father for making him believe he'd be something some day. Instead, because he can't lift his arms, he's Rove's perfect machine, a hateful fucker with a real military record and not a fake one.
Sometimes, when you're in a bar, a real bar with regulars, like a couple of places in Wrigleyville in Chicago that aren't infected with tourists or filled with flat-screens where the Rude Pundit liked to grab a couple of shots when he was working in that fair city a few years back, there's people who just decide they don't fuckin' like you. Old guys, guys who feel a sense of proprietorship over the place and any activity done or opinions given. Sure, if you've been to enough joints, you've experienced this, the cranky, grizzled fucks who think you're full of shit and think they know everything when they're just assholes who haven't been put in their place enough in their adult lives.
Most of the time, you just ignore it, when Old Man Johnny talks about how he can kick your ass, how he's taken down dudes twice as big as you are, how, even with his bum knee and arthritis, he could still knock your teeth out. Most of the time, you just nod and move to another part of the bar or you try to charm the bastard, get him a round or two. The Rude Pundit's favorite fight avoidance strategy: get 'em talking, for, indeed, chances are they're just looking for someone new to tell war stories to. (And, oh, the things the Rude Pundit has learned, about life, about lies, about history, from these grumpy drunks.)
Every once in a while, though, some wrinkled cock thinks he has something to prove, to himself, to some hot young piece of ass that's given him some attention, to other wrinkled cocks around him. And Old Man Johnny either wants to you to fight or get the fuck out of his bar. The best advice is to just walk away. Fights hurt. A lot.
But there's a rare occasion where everything lines up: Old Man Johnny's in your face, been in your face for hours, and you've had a shitty day, and the drinks have kicked you down the stairs instead of up, and, well, then fuck this old fucker and everything you've ever been taught about respecting your elders and other bullshit. Time for the old man to go back to school.
So here's the Rude Pundit's advice for Barack Obama's campaign: sometimes there's something ineffably and extraordinarily gratifying about beating down an old man. Sure, some will say that you're just hitting a weak old dude, but most will realize that he had it coming. It's like you're saying that the people who are gonna be alive for a while get to decide how shit goes down and what the order of things is gonna be. Even if it accomplishes nothing else but showing everyone else in the bar that you are not gonna take shit from anyone, it had to be done.
'Cause, right now, while Obama is walking out of the bar, telling everyone how it's a shame that Old Man Johnny's an alcoholic, Johnny's still in there, laughing about how Obama's such a pussy that he won't get his manicure dirty.
Or, to put it more directly, Karl Rove plays the long game. If the Obama campaign lets the McCain campaign get away with questioning Obama's patriotism again and again, and it has the desired Swift Boat effect, then, even if he wins, Obama's given his political opponents the way to wreck his agenda. And, sorry, an ad about how McCain's economic policies suck is the response equivalent of punching yourself in the balls.
Michael Mukasey Doesn't Care About the Security of Americans:
Goddamn, Attorney General Michael Mukasey is such a cunt. In his speech yesterday before the American Bar Association, he may as well have stood there and said, "I am such a cunt. I mean, holy fuckin' shit, you have no idea how much of a cunt I am, but lemme give you some clues" before launching into his prepared remarks. His seemingly benign cuntishness (it's a trick involving his spectacles and buzzcut) makes one long for the blatantly creepy cuntocity of Alberto Gonzales.
Here's what Mukasey said yesterday: not only is he not going to pursue charges against Monica Goodling et al for giving a political litmus test to candidates for ostensibly non-political jobs, but he thinks they've been punished enough: "The officials most directly implicated in the misconduct left the Department to the accompaniment of substantial negative publicity. Their misconduct has now been laid bare by the Justice Department for all to see. As a general matter in such cases, where disciplinary referrals are appropriate, they are made. To put it in concrete terms, I doubt that anyone in this room would want to trade places with any of those people." Oh, snap, motherfuckers. Looks like someone's been giving naked bottom paddlings to his employees.
See, as Mukasey explained, they didn't violate criminal laws, but civil service law, and he's right that that doesn't end up in criminal prosecution. But you know what is actionable in criminal law? Ordering people to violate civil service law. Conspiracy and all that shit. And Mukasey certainly hinted at such crimes: "the failure was systemic in that the system – the institution – failed to check the behavior of those who did wrong. There was a failure of supervision by senior officials in the Department. And there was a failure on the part of some employees to cry foul when they were aware, or should have been aware, of problems."
Yep, a systemic failure, one where others might be implicated, would seem to warrant action. But, see, that might require further investigation. And that might lead directly to Alberto Gonzales. And if people start to roll over, well, that way madness lies.
Even more cuntish was what was left out of Mukasey's remarks. He did say that those who were hired won't be fired because "it would be harmful to the Department and to the country." You remember back in the day when everything was related to security? When to support the extension of civil service benefits to workers at the Department of Homeland Security meant that you wanted Osama bin Laden to force America's sons to fellate his goats? When if a Democrat happened to mention that some action of the administration was a violation of civil rights, it meant that the Democrats were ready to hand the keys to the White House to Islamonazis or whatever the word was? Wait, wasn't that like last week or so? Anyway...
In that bullshit, overwrought context, what Mukasey left out was that the actions of Monica Goodling et al in Alberto Gonzales's Justice Department placed all of us in greater danger. If you're more concerned with whether or not Johnny or Jenny Civil Servant would take a bullet for aborted fetuses than if they have the skills to do the goddamn jobs at the goddamn Department of goddamn Justice, then you are saying that you don't give a happy monkey fuck about the security of the country. The nation or the man/party. One is not the same as the other. Sure, Mukasey can spin and spittle that just because politics was taken into consideration, it "does not mean that the people they hired are unqualified for their jobs." No, but it does mean they may not be the most qualified for the their jobs, which include positions like "judge."
Mukasey's right that to fire people because the interview process was fucked is unfair, especially since the Rude Pundit would like to think that more than one of them stared for a moment when, in an interview for a job dealing with immigration, Goodling might ask them what they think about the homosexuals and their desire for marriage before answering in a lie that'd get them the job. (If the Rude Pundit had been asked, as Goodling did, "What is it about George W. Bush that makes you want to serve him?" he'd have answered, "He smells like lime and coca leaves.")
And, hey, the people who were passed over because they thought being gay was okay have been invited back to apply for more jobs. It's like the end of a fight at a kid's birthday party, where you force the fat boy who took most of the candy from the pinata to give a piece or two to the ones he batted out of the way.
No, Mr. Former Judge Attorney General Mukasey, as you say, "Two wrongs don't make a right." But you lead the fuckin' Justice Department. You know that to right a wrong means you might have to actually pursue justice. Or don't you give a damn about the safety of the United States?
Goddamn, Attorney General Michael Mukasey is such a cunt. In his speech yesterday before the American Bar Association, he may as well have stood there and said, "I am such a cunt. I mean, holy fuckin' shit, you have no idea how much of a cunt I am, but lemme give you some clues" before launching into his prepared remarks. His seemingly benign cuntishness (it's a trick involving his spectacles and buzzcut) makes one long for the blatantly creepy cuntocity of Alberto Gonzales.
Here's what Mukasey said yesterday: not only is he not going to pursue charges against Monica Goodling et al for giving a political litmus test to candidates for ostensibly non-political jobs, but he thinks they've been punished enough: "The officials most directly implicated in the misconduct left the Department to the accompaniment of substantial negative publicity. Their misconduct has now been laid bare by the Justice Department for all to see. As a general matter in such cases, where disciplinary referrals are appropriate, they are made. To put it in concrete terms, I doubt that anyone in this room would want to trade places with any of those people." Oh, snap, motherfuckers. Looks like someone's been giving naked bottom paddlings to his employees.
See, as Mukasey explained, they didn't violate criminal laws, but civil service law, and he's right that that doesn't end up in criminal prosecution. But you know what is actionable in criminal law? Ordering people to violate civil service law. Conspiracy and all that shit. And Mukasey certainly hinted at such crimes: "the failure was systemic in that the system – the institution – failed to check the behavior of those who did wrong. There was a failure of supervision by senior officials in the Department. And there was a failure on the part of some employees to cry foul when they were aware, or should have been aware, of problems."
Yep, a systemic failure, one where others might be implicated, would seem to warrant action. But, see, that might require further investigation. And that might lead directly to Alberto Gonzales. And if people start to roll over, well, that way madness lies.
Even more cuntish was what was left out of Mukasey's remarks. He did say that those who were hired won't be fired because "it would be harmful to the Department and to the country." You remember back in the day when everything was related to security? When to support the extension of civil service benefits to workers at the Department of Homeland Security meant that you wanted Osama bin Laden to force America's sons to fellate his goats? When if a Democrat happened to mention that some action of the administration was a violation of civil rights, it meant that the Democrats were ready to hand the keys to the White House to Islamonazis or whatever the word was? Wait, wasn't that like last week or so? Anyway...
In that bullshit, overwrought context, what Mukasey left out was that the actions of Monica Goodling et al in Alberto Gonzales's Justice Department placed all of us in greater danger. If you're more concerned with whether or not Johnny or Jenny Civil Servant would take a bullet for aborted fetuses than if they have the skills to do the goddamn jobs at the goddamn Department of goddamn Justice, then you are saying that you don't give a happy monkey fuck about the security of the country. The nation or the man/party. One is not the same as the other. Sure, Mukasey can spin and spittle that just because politics was taken into consideration, it "does not mean that the people they hired are unqualified for their jobs." No, but it does mean they may not be the most qualified for the their jobs, which include positions like "judge."
Mukasey's right that to fire people because the interview process was fucked is unfair, especially since the Rude Pundit would like to think that more than one of them stared for a moment when, in an interview for a job dealing with immigration, Goodling might ask them what they think about the homosexuals and their desire for marriage before answering in a lie that'd get them the job. (If the Rude Pundit had been asked, as Goodling did, "What is it about George W. Bush that makes you want to serve him?" he'd have answered, "He smells like lime and coca leaves.")
And, hey, the people who were passed over because they thought being gay was okay have been invited back to apply for more jobs. It's like the end of a fight at a kid's birthday party, where you force the fat boy who took most of the candy from the pinata to give a piece or two to the ones he batted out of the way.
No, Mr. Former Judge Attorney General Mukasey, as you say, "Two wrongs don't make a right." But you lead the fuckin' Justice Department. You know that to right a wrong means you might have to actually pursue justice. Or don't you give a damn about the safety of the United States?
"Hot Chicks Dig Obama": Blame the Impotence:
Oh, sweet readers, beware the impotent straight man. For, indeed, the man who has suffered the indelible shame of "it's okay" from a sighing nude or semi-nude woman as a response to his pronounced penile flaccidity will have a rage ignited inside of him. And that fire inside due to a lack of tumescence, a denial of rigidity, a floppy cock shall evince itself in numerous ways, none of them terribly complex. Most men will turn inward, falling into an abyss of self-loathing and depression, maybe compensating by working harder, drinking more, or, most sadly, trying and failing again and again to get hard and breach the decreasingly lubricated walls of his lover's fortress of pleasure, thus perpetuating the spiral into the aforementioned abyss.
However, the impotent man may also turn outward once he fails in the bedroom, living room, or bar bathroom stall. He may decide that the rest of the world must suffer for his peter's arrested stiffness. And then, merciful fuck, how he will lash out. In general at all around him, and specifically and especially against those he perceives are balling women with ease. Some men's whole lives are built around punishing others for their personal failings. Whole civilizations have fallen and entire peoples enslaved or murdered just because some dude in power couldn't get his dick up.
Thus we have John McCain's latest web ad, "The Fan Club." In it, McCain again goes after Barack Obama for the horrible sin of being liked. Oh, and the ad, as usual, blatantly lies and/or misrepresents Obama's actual plans. But the main point of the ad seems to be that white women wanna fuck Obama. Hell, it's even got a guy jealously spouting, "Hot chicks dig Obama." And, to reiterate, the ad only shows white chicks of varying degrees of hotness, one of whom talks about his "dreamy eyes." While the Paris/Britney ad might not have been blatantly race-related, you'd be an idiot to miss the implications here.
So this is where the campaign of John McCain is in August: it's using apocalyptic imagery befitting a 700 Club commercial on the Antichrist in its ad declaring Obama "the One" (a title that is re-asserted in this ad), and now it's preying on one of the most rank prejudices, that black men might ball your white women (or, in this case, vice versa), the irrational fear that led to that pleasant aspect of lynchings - castration. The ad is ostensibly about how shallowly popular Obama's support is, but, really, and c'mon, it's about the threat of interracial fucking.
Is that going too far? Please. It's August. With this rapid progression of disgust, by October, the McCain campaign will be releasing ads with a digital Obama using his giant cock to rape JonBenet Ramsey's corpse.
The Rude Pundit's got a friend who believes the McCain campaign, by appealing to the basest of the base, the nutzoid racists and endtimers who pollute the nation, is trying to bring out the crazies not just to vote for McCain, but to kill Obama. As in assassinate. This friend believes that it's the conscious strategy of the Rovean activists in McCain's camp. And while the Rude Pundit isn't ready to go that far, he does think that, as with the ads, it's a frighteningly logical progression of Republican electoral tactics. Also, he believes that, barring a real scandal, it's about the only way that McCain has a chance in November. (Note to those who write to the Rude Pundit questioning his "optimism" about the election: Wait for September and the debates. Then see who's right.)
At some point, Obama's gonna have to get in the gutter and take real swings at McCain. Just so that he goes into office demonstrating that he's not gonna knuckle under to this kind of bullshit, he's gonna have to beat up an old man.
(For more on what impotence does to right-wing politicians in particular, see George W. Bush's brief words on the situation between Russia and Georgia.)
Oh, sweet readers, beware the impotent straight man. For, indeed, the man who has suffered the indelible shame of "it's okay" from a sighing nude or semi-nude woman as a response to his pronounced penile flaccidity will have a rage ignited inside of him. And that fire inside due to a lack of tumescence, a denial of rigidity, a floppy cock shall evince itself in numerous ways, none of them terribly complex. Most men will turn inward, falling into an abyss of self-loathing and depression, maybe compensating by working harder, drinking more, or, most sadly, trying and failing again and again to get hard and breach the decreasingly lubricated walls of his lover's fortress of pleasure, thus perpetuating the spiral into the aforementioned abyss.
However, the impotent man may also turn outward once he fails in the bedroom, living room, or bar bathroom stall. He may decide that the rest of the world must suffer for his peter's arrested stiffness. And then, merciful fuck, how he will lash out. In general at all around him, and specifically and especially against those he perceives are balling women with ease. Some men's whole lives are built around punishing others for their personal failings. Whole civilizations have fallen and entire peoples enslaved or murdered just because some dude in power couldn't get his dick up.
Thus we have John McCain's latest web ad, "The Fan Club." In it, McCain again goes after Barack Obama for the horrible sin of being liked. Oh, and the ad, as usual, blatantly lies and/or misrepresents Obama's actual plans. But the main point of the ad seems to be that white women wanna fuck Obama. Hell, it's even got a guy jealously spouting, "Hot chicks dig Obama." And, to reiterate, the ad only shows white chicks of varying degrees of hotness, one of whom talks about his "dreamy eyes." While the Paris/Britney ad might not have been blatantly race-related, you'd be an idiot to miss the implications here.
So this is where the campaign of John McCain is in August: it's using apocalyptic imagery befitting a 700 Club commercial on the Antichrist in its ad declaring Obama "the One" (a title that is re-asserted in this ad), and now it's preying on one of the most rank prejudices, that black men might ball your white women (or, in this case, vice versa), the irrational fear that led to that pleasant aspect of lynchings - castration. The ad is ostensibly about how shallowly popular Obama's support is, but, really, and c'mon, it's about the threat of interracial fucking.
Is that going too far? Please. It's August. With this rapid progression of disgust, by October, the McCain campaign will be releasing ads with a digital Obama using his giant cock to rape JonBenet Ramsey's corpse.
The Rude Pundit's got a friend who believes the McCain campaign, by appealing to the basest of the base, the nutzoid racists and endtimers who pollute the nation, is trying to bring out the crazies not just to vote for McCain, but to kill Obama. As in assassinate. This friend believes that it's the conscious strategy of the Rovean activists in McCain's camp. And while the Rude Pundit isn't ready to go that far, he does think that, as with the ads, it's a frighteningly logical progression of Republican electoral tactics. Also, he believes that, barring a real scandal, it's about the only way that McCain has a chance in November. (Note to those who write to the Rude Pundit questioning his "optimism" about the election: Wait for September and the debates. Then see who's right.)
At some point, Obama's gonna have to get in the gutter and take real swings at McCain. Just so that he goes into office demonstrating that he's not gonna knuckle under to this kind of bullshit, he's gonna have to beat up an old man.
(For more on what impotence does to right-wing politicians in particular, see George W. Bush's brief words on the situation between Russia and Georgia.)
A Random Observation or Two Regarding John Edwards:
So, now that John Edwards has admitted he fucked around with Rielle Hunter, can we stop caring about poor people? 'Cause you can pretty much bet that the poverty tour Barack Obama promised he'd take in exchange for an Edwards endorsement is off. Even without the former Senator/VP nominee/P candidate along for the ride, any bus ride through Anal Rape, Arkansas or Crystal Meth, Montana or Shoot Snitches, Michigan would be mired in the stickiness of Edwards' semen.
Let's put aside for a moment the retarded, adolescent, Clintonesque narcissism of a man thinking he can run for President in this post-Clinton day and age and think that he can get away with an affair like Bill Clinton. Let's put aside the whole "is it his child or not" discussion. Let's put aside John McCain's extramarital fucking. Let's put aside Edwards' utter betrayal of all of his supporters by daring to attempt to become the nominee while this was still a secret (if the Rude Pundit had donated money to him, he'd be really fuckin' pissed).
In fact, let's put aside the sickening thought of "What if he had been nominated?" It wasn't gonna happen. Think about it: how many of the Democratic elders came out in support of Edwards this time around? Yeah, he got a bunch of endorsements, but any of the bigwigs? He was the vice-presidential nominee back in 2004, an obvious and safe choice for many. The extramarital fucking happened in 2006 (as far as we know so far). You don't think that Edwards was vetted to the nth degree? You think this was a secret to the party's leadership? Even when he was polling second to Clinton, there were precious few in the party willing to come out and endorse him. And once Obama became the story, there was little reason to bother.
But let's get a few things back on track here: John Edwards fucked the woman, not Barack Obama. The Sunday chat-o-causts were filled with people wondering how in the world John Edwards' nailing of Hunter would affect Obama's campaign. Over on Fox "news" Sunday, Chris Wallace, asking Illinois Senator Dick Durbin about if Edwards' coming in the orifice of a woman not his wife hurts Democrats, said, "The reason I ask is the revelation late in the 2006 campaign that Congressman — Republican Congressman Mark Foley had had relationships, involvement, with congressional pages seemed to be very damaging to the GOP in that election. What's the difference?" That's not the difference between apples and oranges. That's the difference between apples and sexual predators. Durbin should have just stared, appalled, like Wallace had just shat into his own hands and eaten it. The right is looking for another Reverend Wright to associate Obama with, and Edwards will serve for them until something better comes along.
So, yeah, John Edwards boned a nutsy New Age chick who probably fucked all tantric and shit and didn't call him on his self-loving bullshit the way Elizabeth does. (And, by the way, the great loss for the party this year is in silencing Elizabeth Edwards, who kicks multifarious ass in ways great and small.) However unjustly Edwards may have treated his wife, his causes are just.
In other words, who John Edwards fucks won't get anyone job training, education, food, or health care.
So, now that John Edwards has admitted he fucked around with Rielle Hunter, can we stop caring about poor people? 'Cause you can pretty much bet that the poverty tour Barack Obama promised he'd take in exchange for an Edwards endorsement is off. Even without the former Senator/VP nominee/P candidate along for the ride, any bus ride through Anal Rape, Arkansas or Crystal Meth, Montana or Shoot Snitches, Michigan would be mired in the stickiness of Edwards' semen.
Let's put aside for a moment the retarded, adolescent, Clintonesque narcissism of a man thinking he can run for President in this post-Clinton day and age and think that he can get away with an affair like Bill Clinton. Let's put aside the whole "is it his child or not" discussion. Let's put aside John McCain's extramarital fucking. Let's put aside Edwards' utter betrayal of all of his supporters by daring to attempt to become the nominee while this was still a secret (if the Rude Pundit had donated money to him, he'd be really fuckin' pissed).
In fact, let's put aside the sickening thought of "What if he had been nominated?" It wasn't gonna happen. Think about it: how many of the Democratic elders came out in support of Edwards this time around? Yeah, he got a bunch of endorsements, but any of the bigwigs? He was the vice-presidential nominee back in 2004, an obvious and safe choice for many. The extramarital fucking happened in 2006 (as far as we know so far). You don't think that Edwards was vetted to the nth degree? You think this was a secret to the party's leadership? Even when he was polling second to Clinton, there were precious few in the party willing to come out and endorse him. And once Obama became the story, there was little reason to bother.
But let's get a few things back on track here: John Edwards fucked the woman, not Barack Obama. The Sunday chat-o-causts were filled with people wondering how in the world John Edwards' nailing of Hunter would affect Obama's campaign. Over on Fox "news" Sunday, Chris Wallace, asking Illinois Senator Dick Durbin about if Edwards' coming in the orifice of a woman not his wife hurts Democrats, said, "The reason I ask is the revelation late in the 2006 campaign that Congressman — Republican Congressman Mark Foley had had relationships, involvement, with congressional pages seemed to be very damaging to the GOP in that election. What's the difference?" That's not the difference between apples and oranges. That's the difference between apples and sexual predators. Durbin should have just stared, appalled, like Wallace had just shat into his own hands and eaten it. The right is looking for another Reverend Wright to associate Obama with, and Edwards will serve for them until something better comes along.
So, yeah, John Edwards boned a nutsy New Age chick who probably fucked all tantric and shit and didn't call him on his self-loving bullshit the way Elizabeth does. (And, by the way, the great loss for the party this year is in silencing Elizabeth Edwards, who kicks multifarious ass in ways great and small.) However unjustly Edwards may have treated his wife, his causes are just.
In other words, who John Edwards fucks won't get anyone job training, education, food, or health care.
Sixty-Six Months for Hamdan: A Sympathetic Narrative:
Let us concoct a narrative, a counternarrative, if you will, to what we've been told by the Pentagon. There's nothing saying it's true, but, hell, a fuckin' military jury said there's little true about the Bush administration's version of events:
Let us say, and why not, that you are Salim Hamdan, a Yemeni with a wife and children. You get a chance for a job that'll earn you many times what you'd ordinarily earn, but there's a hitch: you gotta be the driver and, occasionally, bodyguard for Osama bin Laden. You're faced with a choice. No, you won't have to commit terrorist acts. Indeed, you'd be pretty useless as a driver if you were off blowing yourself up. But you will be driving around, you know, Osama bin Laden. It's a suck ass situation, but in an area of the world where the line between rich and poor is stark and the options are small, you can make enough to support your family and make sure they don't fall into shame and poverty. You take the job.
Now, there you are, in 1996, driving one of the most wanted men in the world, from place to place. You may overhear shit, sure, shit that disturbs you. But you are also very clear on what happens to people who betray this man and this organization. And what might happen to their families. What would you choose? Those of you who think you're brave enough to watch your children get beheaded because you thought you could stop a terror plot are liars. Imagine what would have happened if Osama bin Laden's driver, fer chrissake, went to some authorities - which, in Afghanistan at that point would have been the Taliban or, perhaps, our friends in Pakistan, or, in the best case scenario, somehow to someone in the U.S. military - and said he had information and needed protection. How do you think that would have worked out?
This counternarrative posits the position that Salim Ahmed Hamdan placed himself in. It has sympathy for him, even if it doesn't forgive him. He did, after all, choose to take the job. Ask anyone who ever thought they could work for the mob for a small job and get out. Once you're in, you're in. Even if you never do anything else for them, your silence, and thus your complicity, willing or unwilling, is understood.
Just yesterday, the Rude Pundit said that the only thing that's surprising anymore is when something positive actually happens. Even against a backdrop of all he's been through in the last seven years, Hamdan's sentence is that good thing, and, as such, in our 2008 American context, it's a startling act of mercy.
We can expect the usual dullard bleats of conservative outrage and the crazy-eyes spin of the White House, but understand this: the judge and jury were handpicked by those who wanted Hamdan thrown into a hole and never heard from again. They were supposed to do Dick Cheney's bidding. The fix was supposed to be in. The prosecution wanted thirty years for Hamdan. Hell, many of the Nazis convicted at Nuremberg for planning or participating in real war crimes got lighter sentences.
No, we don't know when Hamdan might actually be released, but when the judge in the trial, Captain Keith Allred, told Hamdan, "I hope the day comes when you return to your wife and your daughters and your country," and joined him in speaking, "God willing" in Arabic, it was a direct "fuck you" to the civilian leadership at the Pentagon and the Bush administration as a whole. It was a way of acting as an example and asserting that, even against the inhumane, one can still behave humanely.
Let us concoct a narrative, a counternarrative, if you will, to what we've been told by the Pentagon. There's nothing saying it's true, but, hell, a fuckin' military jury said there's little true about the Bush administration's version of events:
Let us say, and why not, that you are Salim Hamdan, a Yemeni with a wife and children. You get a chance for a job that'll earn you many times what you'd ordinarily earn, but there's a hitch: you gotta be the driver and, occasionally, bodyguard for Osama bin Laden. You're faced with a choice. No, you won't have to commit terrorist acts. Indeed, you'd be pretty useless as a driver if you were off blowing yourself up. But you will be driving around, you know, Osama bin Laden. It's a suck ass situation, but in an area of the world where the line between rich and poor is stark and the options are small, you can make enough to support your family and make sure they don't fall into shame and poverty. You take the job.
Now, there you are, in 1996, driving one of the most wanted men in the world, from place to place. You may overhear shit, sure, shit that disturbs you. But you are also very clear on what happens to people who betray this man and this organization. And what might happen to their families. What would you choose? Those of you who think you're brave enough to watch your children get beheaded because you thought you could stop a terror plot are liars. Imagine what would have happened if Osama bin Laden's driver, fer chrissake, went to some authorities - which, in Afghanistan at that point would have been the Taliban or, perhaps, our friends in Pakistan, or, in the best case scenario, somehow to someone in the U.S. military - and said he had information and needed protection. How do you think that would have worked out?
This counternarrative posits the position that Salim Ahmed Hamdan placed himself in. It has sympathy for him, even if it doesn't forgive him. He did, after all, choose to take the job. Ask anyone who ever thought they could work for the mob for a small job and get out. Once you're in, you're in. Even if you never do anything else for them, your silence, and thus your complicity, willing or unwilling, is understood.
Just yesterday, the Rude Pundit said that the only thing that's surprising anymore is when something positive actually happens. Even against a backdrop of all he's been through in the last seven years, Hamdan's sentence is that good thing, and, as such, in our 2008 American context, it's a startling act of mercy.
We can expect the usual dullard bleats of conservative outrage and the crazy-eyes spin of the White House, but understand this: the judge and jury were handpicked by those who wanted Hamdan thrown into a hole and never heard from again. They were supposed to do Dick Cheney's bidding. The fix was supposed to be in. The prosecution wanted thirty years for Hamdan. Hell, many of the Nazis convicted at Nuremberg for planning or participating in real war crimes got lighter sentences.
No, we don't know when Hamdan might actually be released, but when the judge in the trial, Captain Keith Allred, told Hamdan, "I hope the day comes when you return to your wife and your daughters and your country," and joined him in speaking, "God willing" in Arabic, it was a direct "fuck you" to the civilian leadership at the Pentagon and the Bush administration as a whole. It was a way of acting as an example and asserting that, even against the inhumane, one can still behave humanely.
Things That Ought To Be Surprising But Sadly Aren't:
Straight guys, you know how it goes. If it's not you, it's your friends, although at least part of the way, c'mon, it's you. When you're a kid, you can get off on a particularly sassy-looking underwear model in a Macy's ad. But pretty soon that's not enough. And you sneak a look at your first online naked woman, starting with the gracefully airbrushed artificial breasts and delicately photoshopped crotches of Playboy or something. Pretty soon that's not enough. So you make the leap to wide open legs, staring at pussy lips and glory holes as you yank it. You need more. You start heading over to the video sites, downloading fuck films, and there's an ascending order of intensity, each step of which you begin to need in order to even get hard, moving from straight-on fucking to blow jobs to anal to double and triple penetrations to gang bangs. Each time you move up a step, the previous ones are just worthless. You look at some pictures of the Girls of Wal-Mart or some such layout, and you think, "Gimme a break. I just watched a video of two chicks 69ing each other while getting fucked in the ass by a goat as twenty other dudes jack off and cover them with jizz." It's sad, how one can no longer appreciate the complex beauty of the curves and lines of the female body, how the thrill is, indeed, gone.
If we apply this analogy to America, today, in mid-2008, we've become a bloated twenty-five year old in a dark room who can't even masturbate to a snuff film of kidnapped adolescent Latino girls forced to fight naked to the death with machetes, cheered on by the local cops, and the winner gets chained up and raped repeatedly until she bleeds out and horribly expires. Nah, we think when someone shows us what they think is truly hardcore shit. What else ya got?
From Reagan to Bush to Bush, our political order of pornographic intensity, our capacity for shock has been lost. And, as the Rude Pundit has said before, mostly we're just surprised when something awful doesn't happen. Wait, you mean they're gonna let the girl go? Well, that's unexpected.
We have been hit again and again in the past couple of weeks with shit that oughta make the nation shut down until it's fixed. But that ain't gonna happen. To wit:
1. The verdict in the Gitmo "trial" (if by "trial," you mean "a process so rigged that it'd make Henry Gondorff wonder why he didn't think of it") that will, in all likelihood, send Salim Ahmed Hamdan to jail for life for driving Osama Bin Laden to his dialysis appointments, his beard salon, and his terror plot planning meetings. What oughta be surprising is that, even with information obtained from torture and secret meetings, he wasn't convicted of conspiracy to commit terrorism. Which means that, even with all the pieces, the Bush administration can't win a game.
2. The allegations in Ron Suskind's latest book that the White House ordered the CIA to fake a letter connecting Iraq and al-Qaeda and that Bush and Cheney knew that Iraq had no WMDs from information from Tony Blair, thus showing, once more, that we're at war for no discernible reason. Remember the days when, if a member of the Clinton administration was accused of farting in a church, it triggered ten congressional investigations, an independent counsel, and non-stop news coverage filled with witnesses attesting to how loud and noxious a fart it was and how Jesus cried tears of blood because of it? Good times.
3. The Iraqi government will have tens of billions of dollars in surplus funds by the end of the year. Now, this ain't about Iraq, which is only abiding by the rules set out by the United States. It's about those rules. Hey, here's an idea that's helpful, fun, and ironic: why doesn't Iraq start funding reconstruction projects in New Orleans, Minnesota, etc., etc., using only Iraqi contractors for the jobs.
And on and on, the constant thrum, the white noise, all drowned out by the presidential campaign because, despite the months of this administration left, nothing can break through the haze of depravity anymore.
Straight guys, you know how it goes. If it's not you, it's your friends, although at least part of the way, c'mon, it's you. When you're a kid, you can get off on a particularly sassy-looking underwear model in a Macy's ad. But pretty soon that's not enough. And you sneak a look at your first online naked woman, starting with the gracefully airbrushed artificial breasts and delicately photoshopped crotches of Playboy or something. Pretty soon that's not enough. So you make the leap to wide open legs, staring at pussy lips and glory holes as you yank it. You need more. You start heading over to the video sites, downloading fuck films, and there's an ascending order of intensity, each step of which you begin to need in order to even get hard, moving from straight-on fucking to blow jobs to anal to double and triple penetrations to gang bangs. Each time you move up a step, the previous ones are just worthless. You look at some pictures of the Girls of Wal-Mart or some such layout, and you think, "Gimme a break. I just watched a video of two chicks 69ing each other while getting fucked in the ass by a goat as twenty other dudes jack off and cover them with jizz." It's sad, how one can no longer appreciate the complex beauty of the curves and lines of the female body, how the thrill is, indeed, gone.
If we apply this analogy to America, today, in mid-2008, we've become a bloated twenty-five year old in a dark room who can't even masturbate to a snuff film of kidnapped adolescent Latino girls forced to fight naked to the death with machetes, cheered on by the local cops, and the winner gets chained up and raped repeatedly until she bleeds out and horribly expires. Nah, we think when someone shows us what they think is truly hardcore shit. What else ya got?
From Reagan to Bush to Bush, our political order of pornographic intensity, our capacity for shock has been lost. And, as the Rude Pundit has said before, mostly we're just surprised when something awful doesn't happen. Wait, you mean they're gonna let the girl go? Well, that's unexpected.
We have been hit again and again in the past couple of weeks with shit that oughta make the nation shut down until it's fixed. But that ain't gonna happen. To wit:
1. The verdict in the Gitmo "trial" (if by "trial," you mean "a process so rigged that it'd make Henry Gondorff wonder why he didn't think of it") that will, in all likelihood, send Salim Ahmed Hamdan to jail for life for driving Osama Bin Laden to his dialysis appointments, his beard salon, and his terror plot planning meetings. What oughta be surprising is that, even with information obtained from torture and secret meetings, he wasn't convicted of conspiracy to commit terrorism. Which means that, even with all the pieces, the Bush administration can't win a game.
2. The allegations in Ron Suskind's latest book that the White House ordered the CIA to fake a letter connecting Iraq and al-Qaeda and that Bush and Cheney knew that Iraq had no WMDs from information from Tony Blair, thus showing, once more, that we're at war for no discernible reason. Remember the days when, if a member of the Clinton administration was accused of farting in a church, it triggered ten congressional investigations, an independent counsel, and non-stop news coverage filled with witnesses attesting to how loud and noxious a fart it was and how Jesus cried tears of blood because of it? Good times.
3. The Iraqi government will have tens of billions of dollars in surplus funds by the end of the year. Now, this ain't about Iraq, which is only abiding by the rules set out by the United States. It's about those rules. Hey, here's an idea that's helpful, fun, and ironic: why doesn't Iraq start funding reconstruction projects in New Orleans, Minnesota, etc., etc., using only Iraqi contractors for the jobs.
And on and on, the constant thrum, the white noise, all drowned out by the presidential campaign because, despite the months of this administration left, nothing can break through the haze of depravity anymore.
Why Does Conservative Spooge Bucket Kevin McCullough Hate Sex Education?:
As we have seen repeatedly, social conservatives are so angry and repressed from not getting fucked by a real human until well into their third or fourth decades that they not only want to prevent others from fucking, they don't even want kids knowing what fucking is, let alone how to do it safely. Indeed, sex education for them is not about how to use the condom, but how to condemn. It's a simple equation: sex before marriage bad, and if you ask any questions or explore further, well, that's why hell is for children.
Conservative spooge bucket Kevin McCullough is one of the most proudly tight-assed of the legion of tight asses. Over at the right-wing turd farm known as Townhall.com, in his latest "column" (if by "column," you mean, "the horrible brain screech of a man contemplating sticking his dick in a food processor to stop the evil thoughts"), McCullough attacks that favorite evangelical pinata, Planned Parenthood, by going after a website of theirs that McCullough says is filled with "the vulgar, profane, and exhibitionist creep-out factor of hardcore sexual suggestion."
In fact, here's McCullough in what can only be described as a "snit" over the site: "The website is base, profane, and far more intrusive to the innocence of your children's mind than you would ever allow ANYONE to be with them publicly. Worse yet it promotes an amoral, anti-faith, anti-values worldview that runs completely contrary to the Christianity that 70% of the nation purports to 'believe in.'" Ya gotta love that stat: sure, if asked what flavor of God they prefer to lick, most Americans'd say "Christian." But that doesn't mean they want chastity belts with crucified Jesus locks on their children.
Oh, the website itself? It's one of those "let's try to be hip" embarrassing kinds of things grown-ups do that they think will appeal to teenagers. Called TakeCareDownThere.org, it's mostly a series of video sketches about teens grappling with sex, including discussions of genitals, and...wait, let's just let McCullough describe it:
"In the most descriptive way possible without actually photographing it close up - the site depicts one teen boy giving another teen boy oral sex, another scene has one girl exposing her private parts to a room full of her friends asking each of them 'do you see anything "down there?"' There is a sketch on self stimulation, and one other with the oh so subtle title 'Threesome.'"
To emphasize here, there is no sex or nudity shown. It's all just gestures and discussion. In fact, the masturbation discussion is a pro-abstinence statement, featuring the intentionally intrusive and creepy grown-up guy (who appears in most of the videos) telling the self-loving girl's female friends to encourage her in her pursuit of the safest sex possible. (Creepy guy - or, as McCullough calls him, the"child-molesterish-looking character that some believe is based upon the porn star Ron Jeremy" - also serves to halt unprotected sex a couple of times.)
What is McCullough's problem with the site? It's that Planned Parenthood receives, quite indirectly, federal funding. McCullough ultimately doesn't want any funding going for sex education: "It is the parent's right and responsibility to decide when their own child is ready to learn what they need to about how to 'Take Care Down There.'" One might respond that those same allegedly responsible parents ought to monitor what their kids watch on the internet.
McCullough's fear of sex is so pervasive, so pronounced that one can only feel pity for his "Lovely Bride" (which he actually calls his wife). If this website is actually one of the most shocking and depraved things he's ever seen, one might imagine that poor Mrs. McCullough's thighs are bruised from Dear Hubby's failure to actually penetrate her. And both their pillows are soaked in tears.
As we have seen repeatedly, social conservatives are so angry and repressed from not getting fucked by a real human until well into their third or fourth decades that they not only want to prevent others from fucking, they don't even want kids knowing what fucking is, let alone how to do it safely. Indeed, sex education for them is not about how to use the condom, but how to condemn. It's a simple equation: sex before marriage bad, and if you ask any questions or explore further, well, that's why hell is for children.
Conservative spooge bucket Kevin McCullough is one of the most proudly tight-assed of the legion of tight asses. Over at the right-wing turd farm known as Townhall.com, in his latest "column" (if by "column," you mean, "the horrible brain screech of a man contemplating sticking his dick in a food processor to stop the evil thoughts"), McCullough attacks that favorite evangelical pinata, Planned Parenthood, by going after a website of theirs that McCullough says is filled with "the vulgar, profane, and exhibitionist creep-out factor of hardcore sexual suggestion."
In fact, here's McCullough in what can only be described as a "snit" over the site: "The website is base, profane, and far more intrusive to the innocence of your children's mind than you would ever allow ANYONE to be with them publicly. Worse yet it promotes an amoral, anti-faith, anti-values worldview that runs completely contrary to the Christianity that 70% of the nation purports to 'believe in.'" Ya gotta love that stat: sure, if asked what flavor of God they prefer to lick, most Americans'd say "Christian." But that doesn't mean they want chastity belts with crucified Jesus locks on their children.
Oh, the website itself? It's one of those "let's try to be hip" embarrassing kinds of things grown-ups do that they think will appeal to teenagers. Called TakeCareDownThere.org, it's mostly a series of video sketches about teens grappling with sex, including discussions of genitals, and...wait, let's just let McCullough describe it:
"In the most descriptive way possible without actually photographing it close up - the site depicts one teen boy giving another teen boy oral sex, another scene has one girl exposing her private parts to a room full of her friends asking each of them 'do you see anything "down there?"' There is a sketch on self stimulation, and one other with the oh so subtle title 'Threesome.'"
To emphasize here, there is no sex or nudity shown. It's all just gestures and discussion. In fact, the masturbation discussion is a pro-abstinence statement, featuring the intentionally intrusive and creepy grown-up guy (who appears in most of the videos) telling the self-loving girl's female friends to encourage her in her pursuit of the safest sex possible. (Creepy guy - or, as McCullough calls him, the"child-molesterish-looking character that some believe is based upon the porn star Ron Jeremy" - also serves to halt unprotected sex a couple of times.)
What is McCullough's problem with the site? It's that Planned Parenthood receives, quite indirectly, federal funding. McCullough ultimately doesn't want any funding going for sex education: "It is the parent's right and responsibility to decide when their own child is ready to learn what they need to about how to 'Take Care Down There.'" One might respond that those same allegedly responsible parents ought to monitor what their kids watch on the internet.
McCullough's fear of sex is so pervasive, so pronounced that one can only feel pity for his "Lovely Bride" (which he actually calls his wife). If this website is actually one of the most shocking and depraved things he's ever seen, one might imagine that poor Mrs. McCullough's thighs are bruised from Dear Hubby's failure to actually penetrate her. And both their pillows are soaked in tears.
Hey, McCain Campaign: Here's What Actually Goes on in Sturgis During the Biker Rally (Updated):
(Strange as it may be for the Rude Pundit to say this, the links below contain images that are not safe for work. Really. And it's all for the sake of journalism and as a corrective to the PG-13 shit other websites are linking to about the Miss Buffalo Chip pageant.)
The Bike Rally in Sturgis, SD, where John McCain offered up his wife for the annual beauty pageant at the Buffalo Chip campground, is a favorite of public nudity photo and video aficionados, with DVDs for sale and websites out there just for the sake of showing biker chick nipples and pussy, including that on display on the very stage where McCain and his uncomfortable wife stood. Indeed, many people seem to go to the rally only because you're pretty much guaranteed to see boobs, painted and clean.
This is not to mention the drugs. Lots of them.
John McCain's cheery appearance there is a tacit approval of the event. And while the Rude Pundit and many of you may not give a shit how consenting adults have a fun time, there's a good chance a number of allegedly moralistic Republicans might. Unless, of course, they're just hypocritical assholes.
Update: Darrel Plant offers personal experience of why McCain just may have been in Sturgis.
(Strange as it may be for the Rude Pundit to say this, the links below contain images that are not safe for work. Really. And it's all for the sake of journalism and as a corrective to the PG-13 shit other websites are linking to about the Miss Buffalo Chip pageant.)
The Bike Rally in Sturgis, SD, where John McCain offered up his wife for the annual beauty pageant at the Buffalo Chip campground, is a favorite of public nudity photo and video aficionados, with DVDs for sale and websites out there just for the sake of showing biker chick nipples and pussy, including that on display on the very stage where McCain and his uncomfortable wife stood. Indeed, many people seem to go to the rally only because you're pretty much guaranteed to see boobs, painted and clean.
This is not to mention the drugs. Lots of them.
John McCain's cheery appearance there is a tacit approval of the event. And while the Rude Pundit and many of you may not give a shit how consenting adults have a fun time, there's a good chance a number of allegedly moralistic Republicans might. Unless, of course, they're just hypocritical assholes.
Update: Darrel Plant offers personal experience of why McCain just may have been in Sturgis.
Photos That Make the Rude Pundit Want to Unironically Down a Case of PBR:
That's John McCain speaking at the annual biker's rally in Sturgis, South Dakota, where several hundred thousand badasses and wannabe badasses and titty-watchers gather each year to celebrate biker culture, listen to has-been Southern rock bands, and watch titties. One might imagine there were more than a few Confederate flags a-flyin'.
But, hey, shit, McCain wants some working class cache', then he can leave one of his family's seven houses to stand on a stage next to Kid Rock's equipment at the Buffalo Chip Campground and work it. Said McCain, "As you know, not long ago a couple hundred thousand Berliners made a lot of noise for my opponent. I'll take the roar of 50,000 Harleys every day." Which would be awesome, except that only 20,000 people, out of the estimated half-million available, showed up, most of them on foot.
It was an odd place for McCain to speak on energy policy, and perhaps even odder for him to talk about how loathsome $4 a gallon gasoline was, considering that he was encouraging the bikers to waste gas to rev an engine for the Maverick. Nothing against the bikers: we all choose to spend money on the things that bring us joy - stereos, expensive vodka, clothes. Gas and oil for one's hog is no different than a wine connoisseur stocking up the cellar, and we all gotta deal when the price of our sins rises.
Then, in a disturbing repetition of the word "drill," McCain declared, "I'll tell you that when I'm president, we're not going to be paying $4 for gas. We're going to drill offshore, and we're going to drill now. My opponent doesn't want to drill. He doesn't want nuclear power. He wants you to inflate your tires." Which, for a bunch of bikers who, you know, understand this shit and keep their tires properly inflated for safety and gas mileage, probably wasn't quite the smackdown McCain wanted it to be.
McCain then went on to encourage wife Cindy to compete in the bikers' beauty pageant, offering, "I told her, with a little luck, she could be the only person ever to serve as first lady and Miss Buffalo Chip." Would she have excelled at the bikini, the lingerie, or the biker gear competition? And if she won, could we then expect a First Lady who was "essentially...topless...And occasionally bottomless, too"?
Of course, John McCain won't have to pay any price for making an appearance at an event known and celebrated for its public drunkenness and fucking for an audience, not to mention dressing like (and in some cases actually being) outlaws. Imagine if it was a bunch of black people doing this, booty-shakin' in thongs, wearing gang colors, and downing 40s, and Barack Obama showed up to speak, and you pretty much can assume that Bill O'Reilly's neck veins would pop and shower his set with arterial spray. But because it's good ol' boys and girls? Well, that's just goddamn American fun.
Yes, it was a fine day for the McCain campaign, with the candidate suggesting that his wife strip for the crowd and saluting the waste of gas, saying of the roar of engines, "It’s the sound of freedom," and, of course, dependency on foreign sources of oil.
That's John McCain speaking at the annual biker's rally in Sturgis, South Dakota, where several hundred thousand badasses and wannabe badasses and titty-watchers gather each year to celebrate biker culture, listen to has-been Southern rock bands, and watch titties. One might imagine there were more than a few Confederate flags a-flyin'.
But, hey, shit, McCain wants some working class cache', then he can leave one of his family's seven houses to stand on a stage next to Kid Rock's equipment at the Buffalo Chip Campground and work it. Said McCain, "As you know, not long ago a couple hundred thousand Berliners made a lot of noise for my opponent. I'll take the roar of 50,000 Harleys every day." Which would be awesome, except that only 20,000 people, out of the estimated half-million available, showed up, most of them on foot.
It was an odd place for McCain to speak on energy policy, and perhaps even odder for him to talk about how loathsome $4 a gallon gasoline was, considering that he was encouraging the bikers to waste gas to rev an engine for the Maverick. Nothing against the bikers: we all choose to spend money on the things that bring us joy - stereos, expensive vodka, clothes. Gas and oil for one's hog is no different than a wine connoisseur stocking up the cellar, and we all gotta deal when the price of our sins rises.
Then, in a disturbing repetition of the word "drill," McCain declared, "I'll tell you that when I'm president, we're not going to be paying $4 for gas. We're going to drill offshore, and we're going to drill now. My opponent doesn't want to drill. He doesn't want nuclear power. He wants you to inflate your tires." Which, for a bunch of bikers who, you know, understand this shit and keep their tires properly inflated for safety and gas mileage, probably wasn't quite the smackdown McCain wanted it to be.
McCain then went on to encourage wife Cindy to compete in the bikers' beauty pageant, offering, "I told her, with a little luck, she could be the only person ever to serve as first lady and Miss Buffalo Chip." Would she have excelled at the bikini, the lingerie, or the biker gear competition? And if she won, could we then expect a First Lady who was "essentially...topless...And occasionally bottomless, too"?
Of course, John McCain won't have to pay any price for making an appearance at an event known and celebrated for its public drunkenness and fucking for an audience, not to mention dressing like (and in some cases actually being) outlaws. Imagine if it was a bunch of black people doing this, booty-shakin' in thongs, wearing gang colors, and downing 40s, and Barack Obama showed up to speak, and you pretty much can assume that Bill O'Reilly's neck veins would pop and shower his set with arterial spray. But because it's good ol' boys and girls? Well, that's just goddamn American fun.
Yes, it was a fine day for the McCain campaign, with the candidate suggesting that his wife strip for the crowd and saluting the waste of gas, saying of the roar of engines, "It’s the sound of freedom," and, of course, dependency on foreign sources of oil.
Big Humpin' Thanks to the NOLA Guest Bloggers:
While the Rude Pundit was away on vacation, sucking down crabs and trying to avoid them, his place was taken over by seven bloggers from the joyously savage and savagely joyous city of New Orleans, giving you a ground's eye view of the sad mix of contempt and neglect with which the Crescent City has been treated since Hurricane Katrina, nearly three years ago.
So huge damn thanks to Dangerblond of Dangerblond, Oyster of Your Right Hand Thief, Eli Ackerman of We Could Be Famous, G-Bitch of The G-Bitch Spot, Bigezbear of Bigezbear and Humid City, Lord David of Humid City, and Karen Gadbois of Squandered Heritage. Keep reading them because they'll keep the rage heating your heart even when the chill of fall brings hopes of hope.
While the Rude Pundit was away on vacation, sucking down crabs and trying to avoid them, his place was taken over by seven bloggers from the joyously savage and savagely joyous city of New Orleans, giving you a ground's eye view of the sad mix of contempt and neglect with which the Crescent City has been treated since Hurricane Katrina, nearly three years ago.
So huge damn thanks to Dangerblond of Dangerblond, Oyster of Your Right Hand Thief, Eli Ackerman of We Could Be Famous, G-Bitch of The G-Bitch Spot, Bigezbear of Bigezbear and Humid City, Lord David of Humid City, and Karen Gadbois of Squandered Heritage. Keep reading them because they'll keep the rage heating your heart even when the chill of fall brings hopes of hope.
This Is an Optimistic Post in That It Thinks John McCain Is a Cretin:
Here’s the moment of high-larity that the Rude Pundit is awaiting: it’s a week or so after the election in November. Barack Obama has won, handily, and yer TV and newspaper pundits everywhere are declaring how inevitable it all actually was, how McCain never really had a chance, and, in the name of balance, how one or two demographics actually make the race closer than it is. Back at the McCain manse in Arizona, a state he will not carry, Team Maverick is trying to figure out what went wrong, how a man with as much “experience” and how a man who was, didn’t the public know, a war hero because he got tortured, could possibly lose to this uppity upstart mulatto motherfucker.
Now here’s the really bust-yer-gut funny part. At some point around this time, John McCain will give a speech, maybe a press conference, but more likely a speech, and he will talk about why he lost, how he shouldn’t have listened to the consultants and Rove acolytes who urged him to treat Obama like the Illinois senator whistled at a Mississippi white woman. Oh, there will be regret in his voice, along with obligatory congratulations.
And McCain will once more be a pathetic figure of mythic proportions: the first time he ran for President, he was run over by a Peterbilt semi driven through the highways of South Caroline by Karl Rove; this time, he was supposed to be in the cab, but he handed over the wheel, and that eighteen-wheel motherfucker went over cliff, jumping a couple of dozen sharks on the way down. It’ll be funny, though, with botoxed Cindy by his side and his hot blogging daughter, a very small diminished man who couldn’t live up to his hype because it was, after all, just hype, a munchkin without a yellow brick to his name, a leprechaun bereft of gold-filled pot, the dwarf who missed out on Snow White’s graceful kisses.
Once McCain decided to get on his torture-stiffened knees and guzzle that Rove chowder like a tranny whore at a fireman’s bachelor party, he was once again signing enemy propaganda. Hell, his ads may as well call Obama a “black pirate,” as he once called himself. It was a lie then, so why not now?
McCain’s recent ad campaign and new “tough” tone is all bravado and trash-talking masking desperation and flop sweat. If you were playing poker with the man, he’d be the guy to go all in again and again on a bluff, Sure, it’s a strategy, but it’s gonna bite you in the ass more times than it makes you walk away with the pot. ‘Cause hardcore motherfuckers will call your bluff when you really want them to fold. The celebrity ad with the Britney/Barack/Paris axis of evil? As pussy an ad as anyone has ever put out. It’s the equivalent of saying that the student council president got elected because she was just a popular girl. No shit, she’s popular. That’s why they call it “popular vote.” You gotta be popular to win it. (And isn't there something viscerally disturbing at the thought of McCain "approving" an ad with vagina-flashing twentysomethings?)
We are at the point in the election cycle where, unless there’s some absolutely stunning revelation, like a video of Barack Obama in an orgy where he’s fucking white women wearing Ronald Reagan masks, we know that Obama’s gonna be elected. It's just three more months of McCain lobbing shit at him like an Orbit gum commercial from hell. Also, the voting public ain't gonna take too kindly to three months of being told that Barack Obama is a publicity whore who thinks he's better than them. You can rest assured, though, that the ads are gonna get worse and worse until the hints aren't even subtle: a reference to his "shiny" smile and a couple of bongo beats is all it'd take. Still, ya gotta think, at some point, McCain's gonna have to offer a plan, which will be the doom of his campaign.
Buck up, worried liberals. This was over a long time ago. Of course the polls are gonna tighten like McCain's urethra. That's because we haven't reached the benchmark image of Obama and McCain appearing on stage together with the nation watching, getting to that "Oh, fuck" moment of "Who do you wanna have to look at for the next four years? Denzel or the Cryptkeeper?"
Caveat: Obama could still fuck it up. Badly. More on that later.
Here’s the moment of high-larity that the Rude Pundit is awaiting: it’s a week or so after the election in November. Barack Obama has won, handily, and yer TV and newspaper pundits everywhere are declaring how inevitable it all actually was, how McCain never really had a chance, and, in the name of balance, how one or two demographics actually make the race closer than it is. Back at the McCain manse in Arizona, a state he will not carry, Team Maverick is trying to figure out what went wrong, how a man with as much “experience” and how a man who was, didn’t the public know, a war hero because he got tortured, could possibly lose to this uppity upstart mulatto motherfucker.
Now here’s the really bust-yer-gut funny part. At some point around this time, John McCain will give a speech, maybe a press conference, but more likely a speech, and he will talk about why he lost, how he shouldn’t have listened to the consultants and Rove acolytes who urged him to treat Obama like the Illinois senator whistled at a Mississippi white woman. Oh, there will be regret in his voice, along with obligatory congratulations.
And McCain will once more be a pathetic figure of mythic proportions: the first time he ran for President, he was run over by a Peterbilt semi driven through the highways of South Caroline by Karl Rove; this time, he was supposed to be in the cab, but he handed over the wheel, and that eighteen-wheel motherfucker went over cliff, jumping a couple of dozen sharks on the way down. It’ll be funny, though, with botoxed Cindy by his side and his hot blogging daughter, a very small diminished man who couldn’t live up to his hype because it was, after all, just hype, a munchkin without a yellow brick to his name, a leprechaun bereft of gold-filled pot, the dwarf who missed out on Snow White’s graceful kisses.
Once McCain decided to get on his torture-stiffened knees and guzzle that Rove chowder like a tranny whore at a fireman’s bachelor party, he was once again signing enemy propaganda. Hell, his ads may as well call Obama a “black pirate,” as he once called himself. It was a lie then, so why not now?
McCain’s recent ad campaign and new “tough” tone is all bravado and trash-talking masking desperation and flop sweat. If you were playing poker with the man, he’d be the guy to go all in again and again on a bluff, Sure, it’s a strategy, but it’s gonna bite you in the ass more times than it makes you walk away with the pot. ‘Cause hardcore motherfuckers will call your bluff when you really want them to fold. The celebrity ad with the Britney/Barack/Paris axis of evil? As pussy an ad as anyone has ever put out. It’s the equivalent of saying that the student council president got elected because she was just a popular girl. No shit, she’s popular. That’s why they call it “popular vote.” You gotta be popular to win it. (And isn't there something viscerally disturbing at the thought of McCain "approving" an ad with vagina-flashing twentysomethings?)
We are at the point in the election cycle where, unless there’s some absolutely stunning revelation, like a video of Barack Obama in an orgy where he’s fucking white women wearing Ronald Reagan masks, we know that Obama’s gonna be elected. It's just three more months of McCain lobbing shit at him like an Orbit gum commercial from hell. Also, the voting public ain't gonna take too kindly to three months of being told that Barack Obama is a publicity whore who thinks he's better than them. You can rest assured, though, that the ads are gonna get worse and worse until the hints aren't even subtle: a reference to his "shiny" smile and a couple of bongo beats is all it'd take. Still, ya gotta think, at some point, McCain's gonna have to offer a plan, which will be the doom of his campaign.
Buck up, worried liberals. This was over a long time ago. Of course the polls are gonna tighten like McCain's urethra. That's because we haven't reached the benchmark image of Obama and McCain appearing on stage together with the nation watching, getting to that "Oh, fuck" moment of "Who do you wanna have to look at for the next four years? Denzel or the Cryptkeeper?"
Caveat: Obama could still fuck it up. Badly. More on that later.
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