Loyalty Oath

We've all heard about the Loyalty Oath people must sign to get into campaign events for President Bush, but not many of us have actually seen one. A fearless Democratic double-agent confiscated this one from a Bush event in Davenport, Iowa and sent it to me. As always, you be the judge.


Screening Questionnaire for Republican Campaign Events

This form must be filled out in its entirety and approved by security staff prior to your admittance to the event.

1. I promise to vote for President George Bush November 2, 2004. YES/NO
2. I believe everything George Bush says is true. YES/NO
3. I believe God chose George Bush to lead America. YES/NO
4. I swear never to utter a negative word about President Bush in public and never in the company of more than 2 people in private. YES/NO
5. I have showered today and I am wearing clean undergarments. YES/NO
6. I have no tattoos or piercings. YES/NO
7. I have practiced smiling broadly, looking in awe and nodding in affirmation prior to this event. YES/NO
8. Prior to November 2nd, I promise to abstain from sex for 24-hours and cleanse my mind of any impure, socialistic thoughts. YES/NO
9. I am wearing the RNC approved American flag pin. YES/NO
10. I believe President Bush should be granted unlimited authority when he deems it necessary for the safety and security of America. YES/NO

I understand that failure to comply with any of the above statements marked “YES” could lead to my eternal damnation in the fiery pits of Hell or mandatory attendance at a three-day Michael Moore Film Festival.

Through the Looking Glass, American Style

There aren’t enough synonyms for “surreal” in the English language to convey the times in which we find ourselves. The daily Merry-Go-Round of presidential campaign images and sound bites is like a never-ending bad acid trip where the White Knight is riding backwards, the King wears no clothes and words have no relationship to reality.

The latest hallucinatory experience happened this morning as I caught a few moments of Charlie Gibson interviewing George Bush on Good Morning, America. Gibson gently tossed the usual softballs to the President, then, with a wink and a nod, held up the now famous photos of Bush’s lumpy back during the debates. Well, they both got a good chuckle out of it as the Liar in Chief first denied anything was there, then, flip-flopped and said the bulge was “my shirt.” More “lunatic-conspiracy-theory” smiles and nods with Charlie and that was that.

The problem is, there is something under Bush’s suit coat. An unnatural bulge is clearly visible in just about any photo you look at of his back during the debates. The question isn’t, “Is there a bulge?” The question is “What is the bulge?” Yet there sat Bush, doing his patented good-ole boy routine, denying what was right before the eyes of millions of viewers. And laughing about it. Not only is the “shirt” claim completely unbelievable, it also contradicts what his handlers were saying only a week or so before; that it was his coat that had puckered. How can this be okay in a democracy? In a dictatorship, where those in charge tell you what to think, understandable, but in a democracy? How can we allow this type of unabashed lying go unanswered? Our president is a serial prevaricator, the Ted Bundy of bullshit, yet, inexplicably, half the population seems to think he should be leading America.

During the same show this morning came one more smack to the head in the never-ending assault of political commercials. In this “story line,” a young woman who lost her father on 9/11 admits to being depressed, but is literally resurrected and returned to the world of the living by a hug from President Bush at a rally. Okay…. You should vote for Bush because he hugged someone who was grieving. The melodrama, music and tears are intended to make this almost automatic, very normal human gesture rank up there with the parting of seas or the feeding of hundreds with a fish and a loaf of bread. When you cut through the crap, Bush hugs a young woman who lost a loved one. What would you do? What would anyone do? Slap her? Tell her to stop her whining? You’d hug her. So that must make you compassionate enough to be President of the United States.

If there were justice in this phantasmagoric, Dadaistic parallel world into which we have all slipped, the young woman would have tongue-whipped George Bush into a tearful, on-camera apology in front of the world for allowing 9/11 to happen on his watch.

I’m John Andreini, and I approved this message.

Over the years, I’ve written a number of “letters to the editor,” to papers here in Minnesota and in Iowa where I lived for a time. Not all of them were published, of course, but a fair number were. The letters column in newspapers is one of the few public forums left to citizens where ideas can be exchanged and outrages vented. It’s not really a dialogue, and there always seems to be a contrived balance of pros and cons on every issue, but at least you get to say your piece and stamp your name on your convictions, which is something.

On those occasions when I’ve had letters published, I usually get several positive comments from friends and coworkers and that’s about all there is to it. A few times I’ve received positive letters from readers’ in agreement with my position. But I’ve also gotten my share of letters from the opposition, conservative Republicans I can only assume, railing at me with religious screeds or copies of articles from Right Wing rags. You see, there’s the rub. I can only assume things about them because they never sign their letters.

I’m not talking about hate mail here, but envelopes crammed to bursting with Christian Fundamentalist dogma designed to rescue me from Satan’s clutches and lead me from the dark secular world into the netherworld of superstition. I’ve gotten written retorts, some legible others not, and lots and lots of copies of politically related magazine and newspaper articles. Diverse materials, to be sure, but what they all have in common is the lack of any identification—no signature, no return address, nothing to identify the sender. Why? Well, I’m glad I asked.

Let’s pretend for a minute that I’ve just read a letter from John Andreini in the Minneapolis Star-Tribune, and boy, I’m torqued. Why that little…. Okay, this spawn of Fonda needs to be set aright, and I’m gonna do it! Here’s this tract, this article, a letter for good measure. There. Sealed. Done. “What about your name?” whispers a little voice, “Your return address?” CUT. I’m sorry. I forgot my lines. Okay, I’m supposed to say, “Drat, that’s right. I need to sign it so that liberal Yo Yo knows that there are real people out there who believe just as strongly as he does about…about… What’s the matter? Why do you hesitate? Dunno…. I believe some pretty wild stuff, don’t I? Delivered direct to your brain on the La La land Express. Not a lot of people think like I do. Nope. I don’t want him to think I’m nuts. Why would he think that? You’re on God’s side for Pete’s sake, fighting for truth, justice and the American way. The real problem is that people just don’t understand you. They can’t see the truth like you do. The fact that most people are ignorant doesn’t make me crazy does it? Look, I’m gonna send the letter without my name on it, so he doesn’t think I’m nuts, which I’m not. It could create a lot of misunderstanding if he knows I sent this to him. We can avoid all of that by simply leaving off my name. It’s not because I don’t believe in what I’m doing, it’s just to avoid any misunderstandings.

Uh huh.

It all reeks of fear, doubt, Gollum-like sneakishness. We hides in the darkness and sends letters to nasty Hobbitses. But of what exactly, are they afraid?

Everything. I wish it was me, but it’s not. They fear the world and everything in it because they hold beliefs that are in direct contradiction to the reality that presents itself to us on a day to day basis. They cling to a reality that is only in their minds, and at some level, obviously not a conscious one, they know their ideas are loony or hateful or aberrant, but they feel stuck with them and, even more strangely, feel a need to share them with others, like intentionally spreading a disease.

When you truly believe something is right and just, you stand up for it, you fight for it, you sacrifice for it. You put yourself on the line for it, even if that’s as small as writing your name on a letter to the editor. Martin Luther King walked into the middle of a tornado with every civil rights march he led. Hitler hid in his bunker and killed himself when the war turned bad. I’m no Martin Luther King, but I do understand the difference between fighting for what’s right and a sucker punch.

And now for something completely different...

The Duke’s Cemetery
A Cautionary Tale

The lovers’ plan was simple by design. Sir Griffith Madison would wait concealed in a tangle of vines in the garden just beyond the manor light until all was completely dark and quiet within. At the opportune moment, Margaret would lower the rope she had concealed beneath her mattress down to Griffith, who would then stealthily scale the stone wall and fall into her loving, desirous embrace.
So far, all was well. Sir Griffith crouched uncomfortably in the dry bramble jokingly known by villagers as the “Dukes Cemetery”—a garden lovingly attended that yielded nothing but weeds and thistles year after year. The deserved fruits of a bitter old man who felt his daughter too precious for the likes of me, mused Sir Griffith. He took comfort at knowing that the temporary pokes and bites he endured now would be driven into the dark recesses of his memory when his lips met his beloved’s eager, yearning mouth. His loins ached for the passionate touch of his porcelain-skinned lover. Soon he was adjusting his tights, hoping he would not have to endure the strain of separation much longer. His wish was answered shortly as candles in the manor were snuffed, one by one. After a few pounding heartbeats that he thought were surely loud enough to wake the entire village, darkness and quiet filled the centuries-old stone mansion.
Sir Griffith’s eyes rose to the black cavity on the third level which was the bedroom window of his cherished lady, longing to see her outline in the moonlight as she beckoned him from his hiding place. He stayed focused, fending off biting flies and other demonic insects, watching intently for any sign of movement in the darkened window. Then his heart leapt, for he could make out his dear mistress at the window’s ledge, her bountiful white breasts precariously close to escaping the confines of her bodice as she anxiously leaned forward to search for her hidden suitor. For Sir Griffith, it was enjoyable just gazing on his beautiful lover as she strained to find him in the darkness of the garden. Margaret did not posses great intelligence, for which he was thankful, but her beauty was renowned. She whispered his name tenderly.
When it was no longer possible to remain apart from her, Sir Griffith made his way none too quietly through dying stalks and stems of the garden, until finally he found himself in a strategic position just below his lover’s open window.
“My love. Margaret. I am down here.” He whispered.
“Oh, my dearest knight,” he heard her sweet voice answering. “My lover, my life.”
“Be resourceful My Dear, and throw down a rope that I might touch you again before I go mad with desire.”
“Shhh,” she cautioned. “Do not wake father. He was in a foul mood this eve.”
“I apologize, My Truest, but I must be with you, holding you, kissing you, fulfilling your deepest desires.”
“And I you. Here. The rope.” And with that, she lowered the rope for Sir Griffith. His heart aching for his beloved, he began to climb.
“My Dear,” whispered Margaret from her perch. “I heard the vilest rumor today.”
Struggling up the wall, Sir Griffith huffed. “What…was it, My Love?”
“Gwyneth, you know, the Miller’s ambitious daughter, told me that her sister, Fanny, the pretty one, is with child.”
Sir Griffith wheezed with effort. “Quite interesting, My Dear.”
“No, My Sweetest, the interesting part, the most curious part, regards the father.”
“The father?” He was now only several feet below the edge of Margaret’s window.
“Yes. She said the father was a Sir Griffith Madison.”
His hands instantly became wet and slippery. “My Most Cherished, this is nothing more than ugly town gossip.” He continued to climb.
“Gwyneth is an honest, purposeful woman. I never take her word lightly.”
Reaching up, Sir Griffith was able to get one hand on the stone window sill. “But surely, My Rose, you do not believe such evil slander. Give me a hand, would you?” He looked up only to see his lover holding a dark object. “What, pray tell, is that?” he panted.
“This? It is a man’s glove, My Treasured One, with initials on it. Gwyneth retrieved it from her sister’s room during her cleaning duties. Look here. ‘GM.’ How coincidental.”
Sir Griffith felt the blood freeze in his veins. “Oh Sylvan Princess, let me come up to explain…”
“You have already explained yourself.” And with one hand, she dropped the glove out the window. With the other, she brought a dagger from behind her back.
“Our connectedness is severed. You may retrieve your glove now.” And, as Sir Griffith shrieked in horror, she sawed the rope which lay taut on the sill until Margaret and the Knight parted ways forever.
The Duke’s garden, however, was the most productive it had ever been the following year, making Margaret, and her father, very pleased.

What are they thinking?

These quotes were posted today on "Media Matters," a great site dedicated to bringing to light the hypocrisy and lunacy of Right Wing pundits and the double standards found in network news. The responses simply confirm the thesis in my last posting that those on the Right (such as the Cheney's) equate being gay with some sort of illness or horrible personal tragedy. Personally, I think being as out of touch with reality as Buchanan and Limbaugh reflects some form of mental illness. You can't have all your wiring right and spew the nonsense they do day in and day out.

From the October 15 edition of MSNBC News Live:

ALLISON STEWART (MSNBC political commentator and daytime anchor): Is it just possible that John Kerry really did make a heartfelt comment and the Cheneys really did just act as angry parents? Or does that just not happen in DC?

BUCHANAN (MSNBC analyst and former Republican presidential candidate): Look, you might have said that was the reaction when Edwards did it the first time, and he mentioned the daughter was gay, but when you do it the second time in a presidential debate and use the cold, hard word "lesbian," which really is offensive and what is to many people, this is deliberate. This is cold. This is calculated because Kerry and Edwards are hurting over the fact that they are both sympathetic to the idea that homosexual marriages should be elevated to the same level as traditional marriage. And to bring an innocent woman into this, you know what this is like? It's like finding a conservative who's a right-to-lifer and going on television and saying, "I'm sorry, my friend's daughter had an abortion." You don't do that.

From the October 14 edition of The Rush Limbaugh Show:

LIMBAUGH: Imagine if the subject were abortion, and you've got a Democrat presidential candidate, unnamed, and you've got a daughter up there that's maybe had a couple of abortions. And the president would have said, "Well, you know, abortion is one of these things, we want to make it as rare as possible. I know the Senator's daughter's had at least one. We don't really know how many."

There’s Something About Mary…

The current flap over John Kerry’s debate comments about the Cheney’s lesbian daughter Mary has, of course, shoved meaningful news stories off the table for a few days. Lynne Cheney has been showcased wagging her head at crowds and mournfully repeating, “This is not a good man…” in reference to Kerry, and Dick has been unconvincingly playing the roll of irate father. What’s interesting to me about this campaign side bar is that it says far more about how the Cheney’s view their daughter Mary than it does about the substance of Kerry’s remarks.

Dick Cheney has talked openly on the campaign trail about Mary. That he has a lesbian daughter is no secret to anyone, yet the Cheney’s are upset that Kerry spoke the words aloud. Why? Setting aside the fact that they despise the Senator, and would take advantage of any opportunity they could to put him in a bad light, the outrage they profess sends another signal about how they view their gay daughter.

At least a part of their anger (the part that isn’t manufactured for the media) results from their view that Mary has an affliction. A disease. A deformity. Being gay is being sick in the Cheney’s world-view, and it has certainly been the cause of much inner grief for them. As a result, Kerry’s remarks during the debate were akin to talking about some deformity or horrid illness in the Cheney family, which is something a person outside the family just doesn’t do in a civilized society. The fact that many millions of Americans don’t view being gay as a medical condition, and would find nothing negative about mentioning Mary in the context of advocating tolerance, isn’t something the Cheney’s can comprehend. The only group of people who would be shocked by Kerry’s remarks are those who see gayness as an illness—the hardcore religious Right who support Bush.

So the Cheney’s, mixing part real indignation with equal doses of pandering to their constituency, capture the campaign spotlight for a few days to try and garner sympathy for themselves (and Bush) and get a few licks in at Kerry. And of course, the ever-obedient media complies.

The outcome of the campaign does not hinge on this minor incident, but it is one more telling reminder for me that placing ideology, superstition and party loyalty before logic, science and simple humanity only leads to the gradual starvation of the very soul one loudly claims to be nourishing.

Speculations on the bump under George Bush’s jacket during the debates

• The anxiety of constantly lying is beginning to manifest itself in physical deformities

• A continuous 24-hour deodorant pump

• Electroshock device Rove uses to produce the desired response

• A candy bar

• An artificial heart

• A really ugly mole

• A receiver implanted by aliens

• A tracking device

• The missing National Guard records

• A retractable leash

• A large bandage covering a tattoo of Tony Blair in a Speedo

• Bush isn’t sure either

NO IRAQ WAR

BY J.P. ANDRE — President Bush stunned the world today during a short exchange with reporters at the White House by announcing that there is no war in Iraq. In response to a question related to the escalating costs of the war, the President responded, “War? There’s no war in Iraq.”

Reporters at the scene were rendered speechless, much to the delight of the President. Then, as if suddenly getting a joke, several in the crowd chuckled. But when asked again about the Iraq war, the President repeated his assertion that there isn’t a war.

“But Sir,” asked an incredulous newsman, “We’ve been reporting on the war in Iraq for over a year now. We…we have pictures.” Another reporter chimed in, “I’ve been to Iraq. There’s a war going on there.”

Unfazed, the President responded. “Look, you people have gotten lazy. Okay? You’re totally mistaken about this Iraq thing. There’s no war in Iraq. Believe me, if there was a war going on over there, I would be the first to know.” With that, the President smiled and waved to the shell shocked journalists as he climbed aboard Chopper I for a campaign swing through the South.

Throughout the day, reporters from around the world called the White House to confirm or deny the President’s assertion. White House spokesman Scott McClellan said the President was absolutely correct. “I think you’ve all been taken in by liberal bloggers and foreign newspapers. There’s no war in Iraq. It’s a ridiculous notion.”

Vice President Cheney was even more blunt. “Look, the liberal press will do anything to discredit this President, even to the point of fabricating stories just to make him look bad. This whole Iraq business sounds like liberal dirty tricks to me.”

Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, vacationing in the Florida Keys, suggested that reporters had consumed too many Margaritas. “Iraq?” he’s quoted as saying. “Why in the hell would we fight a war in Iraq? You better check your sources.”

At least three major U.S. newspapers will run headlines tomorrow announcing that there is no war in Iraq. CBS anchor Dan Rather, still stinging from the Bush National Guard memo fiasco, said he will start his evening broadcast with the good news that there really isn’t a war in Iraq. “People need a feel-good story right about now,” said the veteran newsman. “Knowing that Americans aren’t dying in Iraq will make a lot of people very happy.”

A number of foreign leaders have questioned the President’s statements, but a quick poll taken today by Gallup indicates 89% of Americans believe the President of the United States.

Little Big Man

My administration sources are so sensitive I’d have to kill myself if I even thought of their names. But the Insiders are in my debt for services rendered (neither knee pads nor lard was involved), so information comes my way from time to time that is of political interest to my faithful reader. However, the latest document to reach my desk from the Insiders rises far above the level of “interesting” into the realm of “bombshell.” I couldn’t believe what I was reading when I first glanced through the material, but I was given corroborating evidence that confirms the authenticity of the document. I am positive you will be no less shocked by this than I was. What you will read is a partial transcript of a recording made by someone in the President's hotel suite the evening following the first debate between John Kerry and George Bush. The quality was less than perfect, but the content is priceless.

[Bustling noise. Muffled voices. Doors opening and closing]
Bush: Okay, everyone sit. Who wants to get their ass kicked first?
Unknown: Sir, I—
Bush: Shut up. I looked like a prairie chicken with a goddamn egg stuck up her ass out there.
Cheney: Calm down, George. You did fine.
Bush: Fine my ass. I…Homer Simpson could have done better. Where’s Pritchard? The answers weren’t coming fast enough, goddamn it. I had to stand there like a doe in the headlights waiting for my lines from Pritchard. Where the hell is he anyway?
Rove: Pritchard had the sudden desire to be reassigned to the grounds maintenance crew at the US Consulate in Yemen.
[soft laughter]
Bush: [agitated] This is no joke. You understand? I got reamed by Kerry.
Cheney: You didn’t get reamed. George, you did great. You stayed on message, you looked strong, resolute….
Bush: Strong? I looked strong?
[unknown]: Sir, you have a call from the First Lady. Something about the Twins and posting bail…
Bush: Jesus Christ on a crutch. That’s all I need right now. Tell her I’ll call her back in twenty minutes. Karl, how we gonna spin this thing?
Rove: We say you won, of course. I’ve already had the releases sent out. Kerry flip-flopped as predicted, you stood firm and resolute. America needs firm leadership. Blah, blah, blah.
Bush: I am so tired of this broken record. When the hell can I say something else?
Cheney: George, you know the problems we have when you…say things.
Bush: Oh yeah? Listen, I think if I’d been able to say what was on my mind tonight, I woulda done a whole lot better. [pause] What are you smirking about, Paul?
Wolfowitz: Nothing, Mr. President…a little gas.
Bush: Gas my ass… [muffled chuckles] What’s so damned funny?
[unknown voices] Nothing, Sir. Not a thing….
Bush: Everyone thinks this is all one big joke. Well, it’s not. I got my butt kicked. I just wish I could challenge Kerry to a knife fight or something. [pause] Who…Powell? You snickering over there?
Powell: No Sir. Just clearing my throat.
Bush: Next person who snickers or laughs is going to join Pritchard in Yemini.
Powell: Yemen.
Bush: Huh?
Powell: The country is Yemen. People who live there are Yemenis.
Bush: I don’t give a flying fuck if they’re Yemens, Yeminis or Yemenistas. What the hell—
Cheney: We need to focus here, people. How are we going to make a stronger impact in the next debate?
Bush: Look. I’ll pull up my coat nice and slow like this and give that cocksucker a peek at my Glock. It’ll scare the shit out of him…Mr. War Hero….
[unknown, sarcastic] Oh, that’ll work.
Bush: [angrily] Huh? Who said that? You bein’ smart? [movement in the room] You think…you think I won’t use it?
Cheney: George, put away the gun.
Powell: Jesus, Mr. President…
Bush: No, this little punk doesn’t think I have the guts to whip this baby out… [rustling] Hey, what do you think now? Huh, tough guy?
Cheney: [sharply] George. Let go of Aaron and put that thing away.
Bush: Ooh. Big man, Aaron. Who’s your daddy? Huh? [more rustling] Next time you keep your big mouth shut, punk.
Rove: George, did you take your meds today?
Bush: Hell, I don’t know. That felt good, though. Got the adrenaline pumping… Somebody get me a Jack Daniels. What are you smiling at?
[end of transcription]

A Bumper Crop

I’d never put a bumper sticker on a car of mine before this year. The perceived power of the adhesive to far outlast the relevance of the message always deterred me, especially when I passed cars with sun-bleached “Minnesota Twins. 1987 World Champions” banners affixed to dangling, rusted bumpers. In 2004, however, a presidential election year pitting an incumbent who looks like Alfred E. Newman, talks like John Wayne sucking helium and governs like Nero, and an articulate war hero from New England as the challenger, well, it seemed time to do more than throw empty beer cans at the television.

Feeling a need to express my deep displeasure with an administration that had failed Americans on so many levels in so many ways, I ended up ordering a bumper sticker on-line that said, “Save America. Recall Bush.” Simple. Straightforward. Easily read by tailgaters. I liked that it was both a reference to the recent recall of California governor Pete Wilson, and less overtly, to the fact that Bush was appointed President by the Supreme Court, making him more like a mid-level government clerk than Commander and Chief, and giving his claim to the presidency little legitimacy.

So I inhaled, peeled off the backing, and pressed the sticker to the rear bumper of my 1997 Toyota Camry. “Save America. Recall Bush.” Now I had done it. I’d raised my flag, turned the spotlight on myself, proclaimed my allegiance to a cause. I had publicly taken sides.

It took about a week before I got any reaction. It happened near my exit off of 94 near downtown Minneapolis during the afternoon rush hour. This relatively short stretch of freeway is habitually clogged at that time with endless streams of entering and exiting vehicles. As I neared my off-ramp, traffic to my left was moving slightly faster than my lane, and a towering white SUV with gold trim pulled up beside me. The passenger window was rolled down, and the crimson-faced, thirty-something execupunk driver was yelling at me. As I turned my head to the left, I heard one discernable word amid engine noise and honking: “Asshole.” Then SUV boy gunned it and quickly sped forward. I had scored a hit. Contact with the enemy! He was pissed, I was bemused, and there was a certain sense of exhilaration that then turned to anxiety—How sane was he? …he might have had a gun under his seat or he could have made one quick jerk of his steering wheel and they’d be picking gold trim out of my forehead in an emergency room. As the months passed, though, I grew accustomed to the occasional fingers and unintelligible harangues. Someone in the gentrified suburb of Edina even slipped a haughty missive under a windshield wiper of my parked car with the basic message, “Who would you rather have? Clinton?” as if only the most adle-brained Marxist sexual deviant would consider Bubba preferable to Bush.

The most unexpected response came from a colleague at work, a normally cheery, rosy-cheeked account executive at our agency. During an otherwise routine meeting the topic meandered to politics then bumper stickers and I mentioned I was putting on a “Kerry/Edwards” sticker. Without a change in tone or a segue, she said, “Good. I hope your going to put it over the other one (“Save America. Recall Bush.”). I think it’s un-American.” I tilted my head like a confused Cocker Spaniel. “Un-American?” I asked. “That’s just my opinion,” she answered, smiling professionally. The conversation snapped back to copy deadlines and cost estimates, but it was disconcerting to be told I was un-American and I remained distracted throughout the meeting. True, the sentiments of the bumper sticker were decidedly anti-Bush, but un-American? I thought being able to criticize politicians was what made us Americans. I decided that pursuing my questions with that particular account executive would upset the political feng shui in the office, and my boss, so I let it go.

It has been a valuable lesson in the power of words. As a copywriter, I bang out so many words every day that I can sometimes underestimate their impact on readers (except when the reader is a client who hates my work). And bumper stickers aren’t as benign as I had imagined. People read them, and people react to them. A few carefully chosen words pasted to your car can send blood pressures rising, nostrils flaring and profanities spewing. So, based on my limited experience, I have two words of advice for those weighing whether or not to stick the sticker during this highly charged political season: Goo Gone®

On a Mission From God?

Conservatives are not an introspective group. In fact, my impression is that looking inward is viewed as a sign of weakness among the faithful. Virtually any form of hypocrisy is tolerated by conservatives as long as you are a true believer. If you’re in the club, you get a free pass. If you’re not in the club, you sneeze the wrong way and you’re a terrorist sympathizer. George Bush experiences no ethical dilemma attacking the war hero Kerry even when Bush’s own military service is a textbook example of the privileged slacker. Being a conservative is a lot like being in the mafia. In the Republican “family,” blood is thicker than logic or reason, and as long as you don’t turn on your bothers and sisters, you can be forgiven for just about anything. Conservatives can brush aside Jimmy Swaggart’s sexual escapades, but turn around and impeach Bill Clinton for coping a feel. Limbaugh can abuse drugs one day, then lambaste drug users the next. Republican senators can be gay, but vote against gay issues. Bush can…wait, that list would take me the rest of the day.

In the movie the Blues Brothers, Elwood deadpans the memorable line, “We’re on a mission from God.” During their quest, the brothers break enough traffic laws to warrant the death penalty, destroy an entire shopping mall and nearly kill dozens of people on their holy mission to stage a blues concert. Conservatives should be able to relate. When a person is on a mission from God, which Christian conservatives believe they are, normal rules and parameters simply don’t apply. I call this “ends-justify-the-means” outlook the Crusade Effect. In their campaigns to rescue Jerusalem from the Muslims, Crusaders wreaked havoc and mayhem throughout the Middle East, all the while justifying their actions because, “We’re on a mission from God.”

Being under the spell of the Crusade Effect means never having to say you’re sorry. Why should you? You’re doing God’s work and no one would ever apologize for that. You don’t believe you’re right, you know you’re right, and there can be no namby-pamby equivocation on issues. No give and take. No surrender.

Filmmaker Michael Moore used his Web site recently to berate liberals for losing faith in Kerry’s campaign and bemoaning the fact that it’s a close race for the White House. In his letter to liberals, ”Put Away Your Hankies…” Moore writes:
“Enough of the hand wringing! Enough of the doomsaying! Do I have to come there and personally calm you down? Stop with all the defeatism, OK? Bush IS a goner -- IF we all just quit our whining and bellyaching and stop shaking like a bunch of nervous ninnies. Geez, this is embarrassing! The Republicans are laughing at us. Do you ever see them cry, "Oh, it's all over! We are finished! Bush can't win! Waaaaaa!"

Hell no. It's never over for them until the last ballot is shredded. They are never finished -- they just keeping moving forward like sharks that never sleep, always pushing, pulling, kicking, blocking, lying.”

They’re on a mission from God.

The rest of us, on the other hand, for all our neurotic, introspective hand wringing, are just trying to make the earth a more tolerable place to live. What liberals and progressives lack in the zealous certainty of conservatives, we should make up for in the quiet satisfaction that history has proven us right time and time again, and there’s no reason to believe it won’t in the future, as well.

Y Blog?

Blogging is talking to myself. It’s a note in a bottle thrown out to sea. It’s taping a page of copy to my monitor. With no reviews, no Pulitzers, no talk show circuit, I have no audience. More people would read what I have here if I taped it up to the inside of a stall door in the bathroom. What is the sense of this blog? Now that I have seen any number of other blogs, their purpose seems even more elusive to me than before. Why would anyone I don’t know care about my day-to-day life, especially if it doesn’t include blood-letting, sex or a car chases? Most people’s lives, including my own, are shockingly boring and repetitive—lives of quiet desperation, as Thoreau observed. And the blogs I have read only confirm this. Religion addicts who can’t stop themselves from writing “Jesus” into every paragraph; lonely students who’s lives cycle from bedroom to classroom to party room and back again; advice givers with their affirming maxims and “can do” cheeriness, bored housewives, geeks in heat, and insufferable political hacks, like me…William Greider wanna-bes who, without government sources or a D.C. address, have very little, if anything, original to say. What we have in blogs is an electronic vanity press where you publish your masterful gems of literary genius for you and your entire family to enjoy. In my case, I don’t think even my next-of-kin have bothered.
At least it’s free. For now.

More Nukes for a Safer World

As our conceal and carry law is challenged in various state courts, the arguments for easier access to handguns resurface. Here in Minnesota, as in other states, conceal and carry advocates believe that more guns in the hands of more citizens will make our state a safer place. If that’s true, then it stands to reason that more nuclear weapons in the hands of more countries should make the world a safer place. Even our pro-gun, “shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later” administration understands this is an absurd notion, as do most people over the age of five. Meeting violence with more violence or the threat of violence is a strategy, but it is not a solution. We need to stop looking to the Old West as our model for society and to fear as the stimulus for public policy. Our children are counting on it.

Uncle Dick is Coming Unglued

Paraphrasing Dick Cheney’s latest rhetorical excretion, this country risks being attacked by terrorists if we elect Kerry. Excuse me, but do I smell desperation? The ravings of a cornered animal? Of all the phantasmagorical, other-worldly statements from the Bush administration, this is one of the weirdest. It is a remark so distant from reality that it has to be measured in light years. Let’s step back for just a moment.

• Bush was the president when terrorists brought down the World Trade Towers.

• Bush is the one who froze when told America was under attack.

• Bush is the one who ignored clear warnings that terrorists planned to use planes as weapons.

• Bush is the one who invaded a sovereign country not tied in any way to 9/11.

• Bush is the one who alienated our allies in the fight against terrorism.

• Bush is the one responsible for an upsurge in terrorist recruitment worldwide as a result of his misguided policies.

• Bush is the one who has weakened our ability to fight terrorists at home by diverting billions of dollars to the war in Iraq.

There very well may be a terrorist attack on America after Kerry is elected, but if that happens, it will be the direct result of a failed Bush administration, not a Kerry victory. And once Kerry is in office, Uncle Dick can take a long, long vacation.

September Blues

For anyone naïve enough to believe it can’t get any worse in the United States than it already has over the past four years, please come to my apartment and allow me to box your ears. How…HOW can an incompetent, smirking, prevaricating, dumb-ass like George Bush be running even in the polls with John Kerry in the final two months of this campaign? How is it possible that someone ill-prepared to be Mayor of Crawford, Texas, let alone President of the United States, may actually get a second term to drawl and swagger through the same hallways, meeting rooms and bedrooms as Lincoln, Roosevelt and Kennedy? How is it possible in a land where information is available at one’s fingertips and in virtually endless supplies can an electorate be so ignorant as to willingly vote for an incoherent, coward like Bush?

We are being swept through history faster than we can think about the journey. Like Dorothy and Toto, tornado-force winds are madly twirling us toward some realization that only horrendous pain and loss can ultimately reveal. It won’t be the biblical apocalypse, but it will be an American apocalypse, and our ancestors, from whatever celestial perch they may be watching, will not recognize the barren, scorched land they once helped nurture to greatness.

Like Ronald Reagan’s sanctimonious tree-mugger James Watt, Bush isn’t much concerned about the future of planet Earth. The end days are just a few mangled speeches away, then it will all be history. Smooth sailing. It is typical of Bush the coward to believe such a fantasy. He is probably already negotiating in his prayers for a preferred place in line into the Eternal Kingdom. “God, you do know who my Daddy is…. Need I say more?” Yes, someone, God in this case, will clean up George’s mess for the umpteenth time and he’ll evade responsibility for his actions because…well, because he has so darn much money.

Who knows? Maybe it’ll work. Much has already come to pass that I never would have dreamed could happen. If, in the end, it is Bush’s version of heaven, he’ll get all the deferments he needs for a plush cloud in a tony neighborhood of Paradise. But if it’s not….

Political Discourse in America

SYNOPSIS
Conventional wisdom maintains that politics has little relevance in everyday life. However, the increasing political polarization in America indicates it has more importance than we want to admit. If one is attuned, it's not that hard to uncover the schism between the two ideological poles, liberals and conservatives, even in encounters where politics might be the last thing one would expect.
CAST
Eddy Ñ Mid-forties man who could be any ethnicity.
Arnold Ñ Early thirties, white male.
SET
The bedroom of a modest, working-class American home.
AT RISE Ñ It is the middle of the night. The bedroom is dark and Eddy is sleeping. Arnold enters cautiously, tiptoeing past the bed when he hits a creaky floorboard.
EDDY
(Sitting up in bed)
Who is it? Who's there?
(pause)
Who's there?
ARNOLD
(after a beat. Sarcastic)
George Bush. Whattaya mean, 'Who's there?'
EDDY
Whattaya mean, 'Whattaya mean?"
ARNOLD
I mean, whattaya asking who I am for? I'm a burglar. I'm gonna give you my name?
EDDY
A burglar?
ARNOLD
Sorry, I left my business cards back at the crack house.
EDDY
WhatÉ?
ARNOLD
But, listen, I'll give you my e-mail address so we can chat.
EDDY
All right. Enough sarcasm. Sorry I asked.
ARNOLD
(to himself)
'Who's there?'
EDDY
Okay, you're the expert. What am I supposed to say when awakened by a stranger in my bedroom in the middle of the night?
ARNOLD
Well, there are a variety of more appropriate remarks.
EDDY
Such as?
ARNOLD
Such as, 'Stop. I've got a .38 pointed at you. One more step and I blow your brains out.'
EDDY
But what if I don't?
ARNOLD
Blow my brains out?
EDDY
No, have a .38.
ARNOLD
You should, but that's not important.
EDDY
No?
ARNOLD
No. You've got my attention. It's dark. I can't see you very well. Am I going to take a chance and challenge what you're telling me?
EDDY
I don't know.
ARNOLD
No. Most burglars, myself included, avoid violence like the plague. That's why we sneak into your house.
EDDY
Do you have a gun?
ARNOLD
Of course.
EDDY
ButÑ
ARNOLD
Hey, I'm not violent, but I'm also not stupid.
EDDY
I like to see who I'm talking with. I'm going to turn on the lamp. Don't shoot me.
ARNOLD
I won't shoot you. Go ahead
EDDY
(clicks on bedside lamp. Arnold is wearing a ski mask)
Should'a known. Okay. Let's say, just for argument's sake, I actually did have a weapon. What then?
ARNOLD
(leaning against the dresser)
Then it would be a standoff.
EDDY
AndÉ?
ARNOLD
We'd negotiate. I guess.
EDDY
You guess?
ARNOLD
I've never been in that situation.
EDDY
How long have you been a burglar?
ARNOLD
I don't know...two, three years.
EDDY
And you've never come across a homeowner with a gun?
ARNOLD
Hey, it's not like I'm out robbing homes 24-7. I do it when I need money and I usually pick homes I know are empty. Couple of times a month.
EDDY
Why aren't you robbing homes up on the North Side where the rich people live instead of a working-class neighborhood like this?
ARNOLD
Good question. The reason is that too many of those homes have security systems. You see, unlike some people in my line of work, I actually think about what I'm doing. What are the pros and cons of hitting this house compared to that house. Working this neighborhood compared to that neighborhood. It's really a science. If you hit houses in a lower income neighborhood, your take is so small it's not worth the risks, but, if you work in a higher income neighborhood, your chances of breaking into a house with an alarm system go up. So while the take is going to be better, the risks become higher. I like to operate right in the seam. A decent take for minimal risks.
EDDY
I'm being robbed by Alan Greenspan. Why don't you get a job? You sound like a reasonably intelligent person.
ARNOLD
'Reasonably intelligent?'
EDDY
You're awfully thin-skinned for a burglar.
ARNOLD
I have a college degree.
EDDY
Oooh. In what?
ARNOLD
That doesn't matter.
EDDY
You're embarrassed to tell me.
ARNOLD
Economics.
EDDY
I'm sorry?
ARNOLD
Economics.
EDDY
You're pulling my leg.
ARNOLD
Graduated with honors.
EDDY
So you went to college, got your degree in economics, and now you're robbing homes. Makes perfect sense.
ARNOLD
First of all, I have a job, smart guy. Short order cook at Papa Juan's. Second, an economics degree is about as useful as eleven toes. Okay? But I can't even afford the rent packing tacos. So I make a little money on the side.
EDDY
Robbing houses.
ARNOLD
Yes. Robbing houses. It fits my schedule. I'm not a morning person. (pause). What do you do?
EDDY
I'm the manager of three convenience stores. Maybe you've robbed one?
ARNOLD
I don't do convenience stores. Why would anyone rob a store where you know they're videotaping you? Makes no sense.
EDDY
True. But I've been robbed three times this year alone.
ARNOLD
Crack heads. Gang bangers. Give the field a bad name.
EDDY
You're a purist.
ARNOLD
I'm just not into the macho 'prove your manhood' crap. I need money, not acceptance. I'm a survivalist. I do what I need to do to survive. Where's your wallet, cash...? You know.
EDDY
Down to business. Huh? Listen. What if I offered you a job? I need a cashier at my Lincoln store.
ARNOLD
Cashier at a convenience store? Are you kidding? That's combat duty.
EDDY
More hazardous than robbing homes in the middle of the night?
ARNOLD
No question about it. Normally I'm in and out in under fifteen minutes. Some nights I've brought home three or four hundred bucks and a handful of credit cards worth thousands. I'm gonna give that up to stand at a cash register for hours and listen to some dim bulb rag about the expiration date on a box of doughnuts? I don't think so. I have some pride.
EDDY
Fair enough. It's not glamorous work.
ARNOLD
But it's a job. Right? I hear that crap all the time. Tell me this, Mr. Manager. Do you like your job?
EDDY
Sure I do.
ARNOLD
(skeptical)
Uh huh.
EDDY
(long pause)
No. Actually, I hate it. But what difference does that make? I do what I have to do. Like you. I've got alimony payments, car payments, a mortgage....
ARNOLD
You asked me why I don't want to work at your convenience store. There you have it.
EDDY
Okay. Point taken. But the alternative doesn't have to be turning into a criminal.
ARNOLD
Sure. A person like me has other choices. Welfare. Suicide. Drugs.
EDDY
You're a real "half-empty" kind of guy.
ARNOLD
I'm just a guy who's found a way to make some extra bucks. This is America, and I'm an entrepreneur. It's capitalism in action.
EDDY
Yeah. Very Patriotic.
ARNOLD
Okay, I take people's money. But think about this. If I was on welfare, I'd still be taking your money in taxes. Or I get into drugs. I'm arrested, go through the courts then jail. Again, you're paying for every step of that process. Even suicide. I don't have a will or money to bury myself. Someone's gonna have to pick up the tab.
EDDY
Me.
ARNOLD
Now you're getting it. I pay my bills, even pay taxes, and I'm not costing you anything...except what I take from you tonight. But consider it a one time payment that keeps me off of welfare, and keeps your taxes down. From an economics standpoint, it really makes sense.
EDDY
Mmmm.
ARNOLD
And, it's to your benefit that I don't get caught and put into the judicial system, becauseÑ
EDDY
I pay for it with taxes.
ARNOLD
The cost to house a federal inmate is up to $40,000 annually. Part of that is your money.
EDDY
This is all very fascinating, but there is one small flaw in your reasoning.
ARNOLD
Really. And what's that?
EDDY
Taxes are a shared cost. Everyone who works pays taxes, so theoretically, no one has to shoulder more than their fair share of paying for things like sewers, garbage disposal, roads and so forth. Now if by stealing money from me tonight that keeps you off of welfare, all fine and good, except for the fact that I end up paying more than...say, my friend Oscar, down the street, since you're not robbing his house. Your argument only makes sense if you rob everyone. Then it would be fair.
Arnold raises his revolver and shoots Elmer several times.
ARNOLD
(angrily, to himself, as he starts searching through drawers)
Damn liberal Democrats are going to ruin this country yet.
FADE TO BLACK.
END.

The Children’s Hour

A recent article in the Boston Globe reported White House Chief of Staff Andrew Card saying that Bush thinks of America as a 10-year old child in need of a father figure. The remark is both hopelessly condescending and absolutely backwards. Today’s Republican party, represented by George W. Bush, is not the party of father figures, but of 10-year olds.

It doesn’t take a psychologist to analyze the beliefs of many Republicans, just hang around with a 10-year old and you’ll gain all the understanding you need. Children see themselves as the center of the universe. What they want is paramount. The needs of others are secondary, sometimes ignored all together. They feel persecuted—teachers don’t like them, parents are more like police, siblings exist only to torment them. It’s an egocentric world-view where rationality and self-reflection are absent.

The “me first” attitude of conservatives is most apparent when it comes to taxes. Although the income tax rate in the U.S. is among the lowest of industrialized nations, the “cut taxes” mantra is chanted at every Republican gathering from Portland, Maine to Portland, Oregon. Republicans have convinced themselves that those in need are lazy, those who seek services are frauds and those who are poor deserve it. It’s a very comforting illusion that positions taxpayers as victims. The underlying theme, however, is plain old selfishness. The 10-year old doesn’t see the benefit to herself of helping others. What’s in it for me? She wonders. Although she may grudgingly help around the house, it doesn’t occur to her that the household runs smoothest when there is a team/family effort. Doing the dishes isn’t just for her, but for the good of the family. Adults don’t necessarily enjoy doing dishes, but, with the benefit of maturity, they realize that it is part of the sacrifice necessary for the family to function. This isn’t communist ideology, but a simple fact of life. Still, children don’t appreciate it.

Children also don’t appreciate “difference.” A 10-year old would rather die than be seen as “different” from her peers, and will join with others to ridicule kids who actually are different. Geek. Dork. Wuss. Teacher’s Pet. Homo—these just some of insults hurled to set others apart and easily classify people. Conservatives, although they use more sophisticated code words, indulge in the same practice. For a period of years, “Liberal” became virtually a curse word, so much so that even liberals were afraid of it. Other words in the Republican lexicon used to classify undesirables include “immigrants,” “welfare moms,” “America haters,” “socialists” and “elitists.”

Then there's the smart kid in class. You know, the kid who has all the answers, gets “As” and reads baseball novels instead of playing baseball. Generally not Miss or Mr. Popularity. Likewise, grown up Conservatives loathe intellectuals, those smarty-pants Ivory-tower types who waste tax money on worthless research when they’re not spouting Marxist philosophy in the classroom. It doesn’t seem to matter that without learned women and men we wouldn’t have reached the moon, found cures for diseases or enjoyed great works of art and literature.

Like children, Conservatives as represented by Bush see the world in black and white, good and evil. It’s a world of high emotion and low reflection, where dogmatic belief and wishful thinking supplant rationale thought, and where infatuation and hero-worship are mistaken for mature love.

As long as Bush remains in office, it continues to be the children’s hour in America. If we truly want a father figure or simply more mature leadership, we’re going to have to turn elsewhere this November.

Important Stories You Won't See In Today's News

Former Texas lieutenant governor Ben Barnes admits getting George Bush into the Air National Guard over hundreds on the waiting list. George Bush lied to the American people when he said he received no preferential treatment to get in.

The primary allegations of the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth are not supported by documents or actual eye-witnesses to the events in question. It is clear they are conducting a smear campaign that is not being questioned nearly enough by the press.

Swift Boat Veterans for Truth have numerous ties to the Bush administration and Bush family. One of the main accusers recently received a $40 million government contract. Coincidence?

Bush flip-flops on War on Terror. Says we can’t win then says we can. Kerry is portrayed as the flip-flopper when it is actually Bush who has changed his stance on numerous issues.

Some Pre-Republican Convention Thoughts

It feels as though we have all slipped down the rabbit hole into a parallel universe with which Alice (and Orwell) would be very familiar. In this new place, right is wrong, black is white and good is bad. We eat food that is killing us. We watch television and movies filled with violence and human slaughter and call it entertainment. We carry guns in order to feel safe. We pave the earth and call it progress. We wage war in the name of peace. Lies are truth, and the truth is a quaint vestige of a more innocent age resting in a plaque on the fireplace mantle.

In this parallel universe, instead of moving forward toward increased enlightenment, we work hard to turn the clock back to earlier, darker periods of human existence ruled by superstition, paranoia and fear of the unknown. Intolerance is acceptable. Willful ignorance the attitude of the moment. Religious fundamentalism the latest drug of choice. We are losing the battle against the true god of Western Civilization, money, as it lures us farther and farther away from what’s right to what’s Right.

What has happened to us that we let superstition and pre-Enlightenment views of the world sound sensible and draw us farther away from reason and logic? What mass hysteria is on us that so many people view as real stories about events that simply could not have taken place. We laugh knowingly at tales of elves and fairies but swear on our bibles to the reality of angels and talking serpents. There was an “Age of Miracles” according to Christians, a finite period of time when all manner of supernatural evens occurred on earth. Conveniently, it ended a really long time ago. Today, the best we can hope for is a water stain that looks like a bleeding Jesus or a vision of a saint hovering above a field witnessed by a goat herder and his dog. No one parts seas, receives tablets from god or raises people from the dead. Too bad. But in religion, you have the luxury of being able to rationalize anything.

I’m old enough to have lived through 10 presidencies. The baby boom. Camelot. Vietnam. The Great Society. Watergate. Iran hostages. Trickle down economics. No new taxes. Bubba. Each president left his mark, for better or worse, but no head of state, including Richard Nixon, has steered this country farther away from the principles that made it great than George W. Bush. As a direct result of Bush’s policies, we are no longer leaders of the free world as we once were, but instead we are free world bullies, using military might to push our views on others whether they want it or not. Those in the international community who disagree with us or question our motives are seen as enemy sympathizers and disparaged, serving to isolate us even further. The world is not an interdependent community of nations, according to this administration, but a Star Wars-like battlefield of good versus evil, where you’re either with us or against us. We have lost the respect of many countries as we selfishly pursue our national interests at the expense of all other interests. In our own country, our government-induced paranoia is allowing authoritarian ideologists, with the assistance of a compliant media, to strip away basic personal freedoms and turn us into a nation of frightened sheep, hence, easier to control. The economy is manipulated to help those who help political parties, not those who truly need help. Social progress is stunted, public education short-changed and the environment put up for sale to the highest bidder. On the individual level, we’ve capitulated to those who despised an engaged citizenry by substituting robotic slogans for independent thinking, covering our hearts with flag decals and selling our souls for tax cuts.

These are dark times in America as we turn our gaze ever more inward and ever more toward our own perceived self interests. But here’s the thing that so many people either forget or have never learned: Our current situation is not the result of the alignment of the planets or terrorist threats or the French. It is happening because of the inept, backward-looking policies of the Bush Administration. It is happening because ideologically-driven men and women have seen their ascension to power as a sign that they are doing God’s work and he must be pleased to have allowed them to reach such levels of leadership. These are deluded people who would install a theocracy in America if given the chance. The reality is that politics does matter. It matters who is in the White House. It matters who is at the helm of this nation and what course that person is taking. An uninformed, disengaged citizenry is ripe for the picking by opportunists, extremists and con-artists. And with the Bush administration, we’ve hit the tri-fecta. The solution? There are only four alternatives: Vote Bush and his cronies out of office and send them back to Crawford where they can actually do something useful, like clear brush; impeach him if he wins (steals) another election; take to the streets; or watch American democracy suffocate and die.

Baby on Board

I always shake my head in bewilderment when I see one of those yellow “Baby on board” signs in a car window. What does that mean to me as we pass down the road together in close proximity? I’m already distracted reading the sign, which is not a good thing. Maybe in the name of caution I should slow down suddenly, surprising the driver behind me who’s been sitting on my bumper for the past few miles. I could allow for more space as I pass them, thus taking the chance that my tires will get hooked on the shoulder and my car will be thrown into a deadly spin. Possibly they just want me to turn down my radio. At any rate, accidents by their very nature are…well, accidental. No one plans to have an accident (with the exception of insurance cheats), conversely no one can plan not to have an accident with a “Baby on board” car. It might help if the signs were more specific. “Baby on board. No honking.” Or “Baby on board. If you can read this, you’re too close.” Of course, I could be totally wrong and the signs may actually promote more cautious driving. If so, I would recommend a few other window signs be created, such as: “Relatives from New Jersey on board.” “IKEA purchases on board.” “Mother-in-law on board.” In other words, convince me why I shouldn’t have an accident with you…or should.