Our Fearless Leader is Neither

While I'm somewhat embarassed that I haven't posted here in weeks, I also feel compelled to tell you that it's not my fault. No, you see I'm a victim... a victim of a sinister new disease that heretofore has remained nameless, although it first manifested in America as far back as September of 2001. Some experts even claim to have found evidence of this virulent new threat to Amercia's health going as far back as January, 2001.

Friends, I am here to tell you, without shame, that I suffer from Bush Administration Daily Outrage Gabbler Syndrome (BADOGS). I confess that each and every day for roughly the past 18 months I have been overcome with a singular rage that leaves me babbling incoherently, frothing at the mouth, shaking and twitching, ultimately paralyzed by savage passions that I can barely contain. My mind: apostate to the body politic.

I make this admission fully aware that my condition may shock and awe you. I understand the fear and revulsion you may feel towards me upon hearing that I am nothing less than a modern leper. That's OK, because I am not asking for your sympathy, nor do I want it.

While the popular press has not been shy to vilify us sufferers of BADOGs, as we have not so subtley been labeled by that strange breed of Man which finds comfort in the pain of others, we still survive. We confront our affliction and we prevail, because we are survivors. You think I'd crumble. You think I'd lay down and die. Oh no, not I. I will survive. And America is nothing if not a Nation of Survivors.

And Sinners.

And Consumers. Dear friends, through the power of purchase, I have found freedom from suffering. And, yes, redemption.

This avatar of America, this venerable totem of molded plastic, has given me back my health, restored my peace of mind, and plucked the log from my eye. Thank you, President and Naval Aviator. Your 1:6 scale steely gaze is a constant reminder to me of my duty as a good American to shut my damn mouth.

Actual figurehead may vary slightly from item shown.

Posted at 10:07 PM

How I Learned to Worry More and Hate the Bush

This blog exists in no small part because of the sham presidency of George W. Bush. I was not merely joking when I wrote in August about my "daily outrage syndrome." Each day, Bushco launches a new assault on our civil liberties and our democratic values. And each night, I sit paralyzed in front of the keyboard, unable to release my frsutrations in any coherent form.

Indeed, hating Bush is a full-time job, better handled by experienced professionals. So rather than lose any more sleep tonight over the crimes and misdemeanors of our rogue Executive, I'll just point you to this excerpt from David Corn's new book The Lies of George W. Bush: Mastering the Politics of Deception.

Posted at 11:52 PM | View all replies (2)

Totally Recalled

I for one welcome our new iron-pumping, breast-fondling, Hitler-admiring Governor master.

I look forward to a new era of German Austrian efficiency and discipline and things of that nature...

Posted at 9:00 AM

It Is a Tumor

Today I'll just let John Perry Barlow do the talking for me:
Surreality TV: From Burning Man To Running Man

Posted at 12:44 AM

Black Like Me?

I've been doing a lot of work related travel lately. Last night I got back from aptly-named Pittsburgh after two days of unimpressive training at the Software Engineering Institute. I took a shuttle back from LAX. The van was full and, this being LA, full of a variety of races and ethnicities. I was the last one on the van and, as it turned out, the last one off.

First, we stop at some random downtown hotel to drop off a family of three. It's about 11:20 PM. The driver gets some hassle from the family matriarch about the price, but she pays and we drive on.

Three stops later, an older woman asks the driver to carry her bags up a flight of stairs to her apartment. He brusqulely refuses. Hey, I can't really blame him. He's a driver, not a porter. It's 12:10 AM.

Then it's just him and me. And he starts in.

See, all of the people with whom he had less than perfect transactions on our trip were black. So he's gotta vent about "the blacks". For the next few minutes I get an earful of how "the blacks" are all stingy and whiny and demanding and ungrateful. I sit there with my teeth clenched, but silent.

(By the way, I'm what you'd probably call "white", although I hate that term.)

Then I decide I've had enough. "How do you know my wife isn't black?" I ask him. Instant backpeddling! Oh, he doesn't mean all black people. Just the bad ones, of course. And he's certainly not racist. No, not at all...

What a spineless asshole. And the kicker is this guy was an immigrant (I'm assuming, based on his accent). I mean I'm honestly surprised that he wasn't more sensitive to prejudice, considering the anti-immigrant zealotry of some of my (and his) fellow "whites".

We finally pull up in front of my house. It's 12:20 AM. I'm jet-lagged and ticked off. I pay him the exact amount of the fare. Then I say "Would you like a tip? OK, here's your tip: Go to the dictionary and look up the word 'empathy'."

I turned and walked towards the door, satisfied that I had spoken my mind.

Posted at 1:16 AM | View all replies (1)

We Have Met the Choad and He Is Us

I want to thank the many fans of Dave "Not a Choad" Matthews who have taken time out of their busy lives to stop by and say hello. Your eloquent posts have opened my heart and mind. Overcome by your passion and whipsaw logic, I broke down and bought (well, downloaded) the entire DMB discography. And I must now admit that I was wrong. Dave Matthews is not a choad. He is a subtle genius who must be loved and respected. His words must be studied with reverance, for truly he is a lone voice of compassion in our crazy mixed-up world. His melodies must be memorized, for none but Angels can play so sweetly. He is a god among men.

I therefore extend my heartfelt thanks to Molly for her effortlessly deep understanding of the limits of my aesthetics. Indeed, before you lifted the veil from my eyes, dear Molly, I could not appreciate Dave's art even "if it came up behind [me] and kicked [me] in the ass!!!"

Alison also took precious time away from her studies at University to correct my opinion. How could I have been so dense? Surely no one that has won a Grammy could be a choad!

Finally, a big warm hug for Elaine, another sage advisor from AOL. Elaine proves her pedigree with some blunt words of wisdom, and I am well and truly humbled. Bless you.

In closing, I'd just like to say thank you all for setting me straight. You are all special girls.

Posted at 9:53 PM | View all replies (4)