Posts from — November 2004

The vermin who seized power in 2000 proclaimed that the adults were now in charge. In fact, they are a gang of petulant, ill disciplined children. They have learned, however, to play on the fears of a timid country, on its desire for protection by a daddy figure, on its old preference for pretence over reality, on its reluctance to think for itself.

Like a child who doesn’t want to be told that Santa Claus isn’t real, America wants to believe that the second-string cheerleader posing as its president is a cowboy, a tough guy, a straight shooter. We must be insistent about the truth: George Bush is an impotent, effeminate wimp, a mentally befuddled fool, a greedy, spoiled brat, a pretend cowboy who cannot even ride a horse and lives on a former pig farm he calls his ranch, compelled to swagger and lie about his athleticism just as he lies about his intellectualism and knowledge of Spanish.

Yeah, I’m back. I thought I could back off the BushBashing for a while, but no, I cannot. This article has me so riled that I have to leave the internet space and go to something more wholesome, like NYPD Blue. Read the article, and then read more of the same here.

Then act.

Attention

If you are a European light fixture manufacturer looking to make some headway in the US, do not do any of these things:

1. Name your company after an FBI debacle
2. Name one of your products “butt”

3. Design the aforementioned product to look horrifyingly similar to the World Trade Center on 9/11/2001.

Thank you.

Interviewer: “So what type of acts do you manage?”
Agent: “Oh, uh, well I have several types… I have a bunch of look-alikes.”

Interviewer: “oh?”

Agent: “Yeah, I’ve got a Kirk—(David Brent interjects “Michael Douglas”) yeah, Michael Douglas look-alike, yeah.

Brent: “He looks like him, too.”

Agent: “Yeah, he does, he does look like him. Yeah.”

Interviewer: “And what does he do?”

Agent: “Uhhh, well- yeah, he just sort of, turns up at a party, and he’ll just wander around, lookin’ like uhm, Kir—(David Brent interjects “Michael”) Michael Douglas. Actually, I’m thinking of gettin’ a, at the moment, I’m thinkin’ of gettin’ a Katherine Zeta-Jones, ‘cause, ah, sorta a lot of people don’t realize who he is… they, they just think he is a… small bloke at the party.”

This little gem is from The Office Special, a hilarious final look at the folks from Wernham Hogg, three years after the “documentary”. I have prattled on about this program in the past, and the only reason I’m not still talking about it that it’s no longer on the air. But BBC America recently ran the ‘Special, and Brenda & I split a gut one final time watching what Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant and the gang came up with for this touching and hysterical coda.

I meant to write about this when we saw it the other week, but I didn’t. But tonite, I called it up from the TiVo and after ten minutes I was laughing so hard I just wanted to share. If you haven’t seen this show, you should. It’s absolutely hysterical. I miss those guys.

Guess what, assholes, I’m gonna stay right here. You know why? Because that way my ranting and raving can be accompanied by a louder and more effective tool, my fucking vote.

I just watched two devastating documentaries on the Sundance Channel. The first was about Karl Rove, and the second was about the mess in Florida in 2000. They made me even more sad and disenfranchesied about the state of this country than ever, but two scenes caught me in particular. Scenes that reminded me of how lucky I am to be an American, and exactly what that means — the power I received, essentially for free.

There was an ourpouring of grief and disgust in one Broward County church, a bunch of people basically saying what I have heard from a lot of my friends lately. The stuff of “why should I bother”, “I don’t count anyway”, “they get what they want no matter what”. And the reverend said simply “that’s what they want you to do, they don’t want you to care. That’s all part of the plan; you know what? we got to keep on fightin’, you can’t… you can’t give up.”

The second was a quote from a press conference given by Kwesi Mfume, President of the NAACP: “we recognize that this strange and sometimes twisted democracy that we have, is our democracy nonetheless; it is what we make it, and as stewards of that democracy I think we have a very special responsibility to make sure that we improve upon it, and that we leave a democractic form of government, and quite frankly a republic to the next generation… that they can be proud of, and recognize, and is one that has survived the test of time and it will survive this, and it will be better because of this.”

Brenda & I have discussed the idea of leaving this country, in the wake of the last several years’ disgusting display of arrogance and ignorance on the part of most of my neighbors, my fellow citizens. But on the other hand, to leave now means two less votes of reason in this great nation, and two less chances to not only speak out, but to actually vote. More importantly, it’s two less chances to affect a change when that vote seems to be discounted, if the spirit is willing.

From here, we can make sure that our votes always count and that the votes of every American count as well. From here, we can debate with the mailman. From here, we can put signs on our lawns endorsing our candidates, even if they get stolen. From here, we can bitch within earshot of some of these misguided souls who either insist on listening to FOX for their “news”, or the the people who chose to bury their heads in the sand altogether.

From here, we can be Americans, and recent events have made me want to be more American than I ever have. May god help the assholes who would take the sleepyness of the electorate for granted now.

Of course, I have to discuss this all with Brenda first. She may still want to leave. But I think I make a good case for grinding it out.

The sad thing about this humorous mock news story is that it’s true: Nation’s Poor win Election for Nation’s Rich

Wake up, sleepyheads. Wake up.

P.S.
Further lunchtime reading unearthed this gem too, also in the fake-yet-real news genre: White House Claims Mandate By Whole Half Of Nation

… and the as-always, dead-on, balls-accurate (and real) reaction to said mandate, by the inimitable Joe Conason: Echoing Bush’s line won’t help Democrats

Sleepyhead directions: (1) Turn off FOX. (2) Click the links and read the words that appear. (3) Think.

satan:
“I’ll see your re-election of US President Bush, and raise you The Death of Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat!”

god:
“All In!”

Announcer:
“Tune in next week for the thrilling conclusion, exclusively broadcast on FOX, featuring George Will and Sean Hannity doing color commentary, fair and balanced as always, etcetera and so-forth…”

“The Titanic sails at dawn, everyone’s shouting, which side are you on?” —Bob Dylan

Keep your myopic eyes peeled for those damned icebergs, you morons! (I can’t see shit from down here in steerage class.)

Washington, DC
November 3, 2004

John Ashcroft today announced that all American citizens are to refer to President Bush as “Mr. President”, eschewing the use of the word ‘bush’, due to its lewd sexual connotation. He also made the following statement to the American people:

Go back to bed now, sleepyheads. Sleep tight, America. You’ve done Karl Rove proud. Go back to sleep now, and don’t pay any attention to anything until we tell you to do so. Shhhh, sleep. Sleep.

Shhhhh…

CNN is projecting Ohio a green state, too close to call, blah blah blah. It’s 2AM, and I am sick to my stomach. Why is it this close? Look at all that red! This is sickening. You make me sick, America 51%, and your 249 EVs and counting. Sick to my stomach.

While the race for President remains undecided, at least we have a clear result on the whole homo litmus test; ten of eleven states with a gay marriage provision at stake voted against the inclusion of homosexuals as members of the human race. Nice.

Oh, now Iowa says “wait ‘till tomorrow”, citing mechanical problems and fatigue. What is this, the Tour de France?

Many networks are already calling Ohio a fascist—I mean red—state at this hour, signalling for all intents and purposes the end of this election, signalling a refinement, a solidification of the policies and appointments of the last four years of Rove Nation.

Can’t wait to see what I wake up to tomorrow, but the way things are going, I’m rather scared to see what I wake up to, say, three years from now.

Well, I’m riding in on the late train, as Brenda & I hit the polls this morning. Compared to all the media coverage given to the bullying tactics of the right, and the warnings to bring plenty of ID and carry the voter fraud whistleblower’s hotline number—sound strategies in a lot of districts I’m sure—our experience was nearly laughable. I should have known, since we live in an area full of H1 visa holders. Many of my neighbors are simply not eligible to vote. And so when we arrived at the polls at 8AM this morning, voters were outnumbered by voting assistants. It was eerie. “Where’s the furor? where’s the passion?” Certainly not at Indiana Avenue Elementary School. I only hope that they see their fair share of eligible voters this year. Which, of course means 55% if we have a great turnout, which is pathetic.

The annoying thing was that we needed to provide no ID to vote; I assume because we had our voter registration mailers with us informing us of our polling location, they figured we were legit. I just gave my name—which of course was the only guglielmetti in the book—and I signed a book which had a scan of my signature from my voter change of address form I sent in. Then I signed one other book, from which a tear-off receipt was handed to me, then I stepped eight feet to the voting machine and handed that receipt to another worker, and then I was ushered into the voting booth to do my business. It was like standing in line to buy tickets at a carnival, and then getting in an identical line to use the tickets to purchase a hot dog. Given the way these political campaigns go, I suppose the carnival atmosphere was all part of the theme. Well done!

We used electronic voting machines for the first time this year too. Brenda went first; when she came out she said she misses the mechanical ka-chunk of the old levers. I asked: “are they Mac or PC?” Oh how I laughed. “Hey, my voting machine just crashed!” I mused, while my wife stared at me blankly. The poll workers had similar odd stares for me, for looking so animated at eight in the morning. Indiana Avenue Elementary’s Gymnasium is a tough room.

I have a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. It feels like I’m being watched. And I am. We are. The whole world is watching this one.