Archive for November 22nd, 2011

Driven Mad by Arugula – How the Right Wing Has Lost Their Minds

November 22, 2011

There’s nothing you can do for a Republican to educate them. They are victims, being persecuted to the ends of the Earth.  They live in a world where they deny global warming and evolution and now, many of them are denying the existence of sexual harassment, claiming it to be a left-wing political tool or something women will just make up in order to get their rent paid.  It’s almost beside the point to show them the statistics for the numbers of women who never come forward and out their abusers and rapists out of fear – fear of the exact sort of sick attitude the right-wing is all to quick to go and display.  Facts are stupid things in their world, and they will ignore them to their own detriment.

You can’t call them racists because it’s racist to point out racism, and soon, their talking point will be to turn on racism itself and claim that too is another one of those things that do not exist in their very small universe.  Rush Limbaugh can go on the air and sing “Barack the Magic Negro,” and call First Lady, Michelle Obama, “uppity.”  Later, Glenn Beck gets to crawl up on his pathetic platform and defend Rush, going so far as to agree that she’s “uppity.”  It’s disturbing, and we’re not far off from hearing the right wing toilet pots, on air, belch forth big gaseous clouds of “Nigger.”  Hell, they called Hillary Clinton a “Cunt,” albeit indirectly via the acronym for a 527 political organization called “Citizens United Not Timid.” Her C’s, her U’s and her T’s: why that?  They’re such innocent buggers, those inexcusable cesspits of men who even stoop to attack injured soldiers if it suits their nasty fancy.  Remember those assholes wearing their purple-heart Band-Aids to mock and make light of John Kerry’s war injuries?  I remember, and I’ll never forget.  It was heartless and gutless.

Their book titles lash out using loaded words against “liberals,” including: Godless, demonic, treason, mental disorder, idiots… and these are just the titles of a few from the more mainstream of their rhetoricians.   They paint political opposition up in terms of war.  Anyone who doesn’t think like they do is an enemy, and they actively and frequently engage in violent fantasies about those alleged enemies.  Glenn Beck has openly fantasized about strangling Michael Moore.  Rush Limbaugh has mused that maybe a few liberals should be left alive so future generations can see what they were like.  You see how they choose to position themselves.  They think they are the godly, the patriotic, the sane, the fair and balanced.  They constantly feel as if they’re at the center of conspiracies targeting them for their noble beliefs.  Their persecution mania is out of control.  We’ve seen accusations ranging from liberal indoctrination in schools to a cabal of liberal scientists who want to destroy capitalism through the manipulation of data concerning global warming.  It’s a swirl of madness from forged birth certificates to attempts to excise Thomas Jefferson (of all the fucking people!) from history texts.  I guess they do know they’re wrong about just about everything.  They can’t even get history right, and when it disagrees with their myopic, biblically filtered, worldview, they attempt to censor the past.

It’s a derangement of denial.  One so thorough and complete they can’t even acknowledge the dismal failure that was eight years under president Bush who started his presidency drum beating for the weaponization of space and ignoring memos about an imminent attack planned against the United States, and he ended his run as Commander in Chief with a 22% approval rating, shuffling shamefully off to a gated all-whites community in Texas, trailing behind a long unspooled roll of toilet paper smeared in the blood of dead soldiers and the shit, disease and suffering of the poor.  And now, it’s all Obama’s fault…that Muslim, that Kenyan, that self-appointed dictator.  It all comes down to one thing… they despise the democratic process.  They have chosen to be the enemies of reality, and that’s the path of the insane.  That’s the path of destruction.  And when reality won’t play the way you want it to, then you change the rules,  gerrymander and disenfranchise large swathes of the voting public… the public, that’s their enemy, and it must be defeated by any means necessary for the sake of their private sector leash holders.  Psychotic, delusional, paranoid, irrational – these have never been the traits of  leaders of  successful nation.  It’s too bad, if those were the ingredients for greatness, then those kooks could take us to it.


Obfuscation Techniques of Common Household Items

November 22, 2011

One of Revelle’s favorite things is to place the wire bin over his head. Unfortunately for him, the bin is his clothes hamper, which basically means he only gets to wear it on whatever day of the week laundry day falls on… my chore days cycle based on my drinking nights. Today is laundry day. Monday should have been, but Monday was a wash because Sunday was lost to the bottle.

As I was emptying Revelle’s small hamper into the large hamper, I came across a curious thing. I grabbed up handfuls of clothes: pajamas, shirts, trousers, and what I thought was a small toy ball. It was an oddly shaped ball, really more egg-shaped, and felt kind of like an old Nerf football that gets crusty from exposure… and that’s when I realized the crusty cracked-mud coating was actually egg shell. It was an egg, but so incongruous to where it was found as to hide as something other than what it was in plain sight.  You see, I was holding an egg, a hardboiled egg like any I’ve held hundreds of times in the past, but it avoided detection as an egg. It pulled off this trick for a good fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds, that may not seem like a lot of time, but on plenty of occasions, fifteen seconds has been more than enough to spell the difference between life and death.

It was an egg outside its proper context, and I couldn’t understand it as the thing it was. Much like the time when I was on a road trip with a friend. We were driving along West I-94, somewhere between Minneapolis and Fargo – that’s as specific as my memory allows, when we encountered a couch on the interstate. It was set up squarely on the road, facing us, as if a family of four could have been getting ready to settle in and watch the upcoming series finale of Seinfeld. Neither of us spoke. We were heading straight at it at seventy miles per hour. I was looking at the couch, and thinking, “Funny, that’s a couch there.” It wasn’t until ten seconds off from impact that my brain unfroze, and I screamed “Couch!” and my friend swerved sharply in just the nick of time. You see, he wasn’t processing the thing either. If it had been a cow, I think it would have been fine or even if it had been that same couch, but it hadn’t been set up so perfectly on the road just as if that spot on I-94 was where it was meant to be and always had been. See, fifteen seconds or less can spell life or death… maybe not in the case of the egg, but surely in the case of a seventy mile per hour couch crash.


November 22, 2011

It’s Marjane Satrapi’s birthday, and if you’ve never read Persepolis, then you should get off the internet and get to your library now.