The pundits on TV are concluding that the president is a one termer; the Republicans are strutting and bragging; James Carville is advising the president to panic, fire and indict; what’s going on? To answer this question, I knew it was time to seek the advice of the smartest guy in my neighborhood. He wasn’t hard to find. I knew I could always find him in my local 24-hour Fitness club.
I walked in and immediately waved at my friend who was sweating profusely on his favorite stair climber. This was his normal spot every morning until the spin class started and then he would shift to the bikes.
“Whatzup?” I growled in my fake inner-city voice, which always got a smile out of anybody who was from anywhere near the inner city.
He smiled and reached out with a sweaty hand for a shake. I’ve been trying to get him to fist-bump with no success. After shaking his hand, I always felt the need to take an all-over shower. Between the stairs and the spin, the guy must sweat a ton of water.
“I’ve designed a new bumper sticker,” he said, with a slight smile.
“Oh?” I said, knowing a good one was coming.
“‘Anybody but a Republican.’ What’ya think?”
“I think it has a ring,” I say. “But, listen, did you catch Carville’s advice today.”
“The Raging Cajun?”
“Yea.”
“That’s the kind of guys Obama needs around him. Not the bunch of pussies he’s got.”
“You think?”
“No question. Kick ass and fill in the blanks later. My kind of guy.”
“Yea, but…” I started but he quickly interrupted me.
“No buts…no buts at all. We got to fight the advantage the Re-pubs have. To do that we need guys like him. “
“What advantage?” I ask.
“The Dems are too fucking intelligent.”
“Oh,” I said. “You consider intelligence in politics a disadvantage?”
“Fuckin’ A,” he said, taking his saturated towel and wiping at his forehead. “The Dems can’t see the simplicity of an issue. They see all the complexities. Then they try to explain it all to a bunch of morons with a sixth grade education. Not good.”
“No,” I said, nodding my head, “when you put it like that.”
“The Re-pubs. They pick morons to run for Congress. They don’t worry about complexities. They do worry a little about their guys completing a simple sentence. Fuck, Re-pubs don’t worry about nada. The end justifies the means to those brothers. Hey, when anything and everything goes, man, it opens up a lot of shit—lot of freedoms, you know? Don’t got to worry about facts or truths, and nothing gets in the way of the message…”
“Yea…”
“Hey, and they’re all lined up and right on cue, see—speakin’ the party line. Ever’body saying the same shit, over and over and over and over again. Lies, distortions and pure bullshit fabrications. Man, they’re good at repeatin’ the same crap over and over. It’s got to be true, the voting morons say, or they couldn’t say it on TV, could they? Get my drift?”
“Yea,” I said, and then he laid the clincher on me.
“For a democracy to work, ever’body’s got to follow the fuckin’ play book. You get what I’m sayin’?”
I did…at least I think I did. “You’re saying that everybody in a democracy has to play by the rules of democracy for it to work?”
“Righttttttt! When the opposition wins, homeboy, you got to be the loyal opposition; key word there—loyal. You can’t threaten to bring the fuckin’ government down. That’s like somebody invitin’ you to play golf and when you kick ass, they start drivin’ their four-by over the greens, tearin’ up the course so nobody can play.”
“Give me an example in the real world.”
“Well, like climate change, bro. It’s as close to a fact in science as we’ve got. How can you legislate on something that the opposition claims is not true. Argument’s all wrong, cause that argument is over. The argument should be how to solve the problem, not if the fuckin’ thing is a problem. “
“But what’s different now than say…a few years ago? Why all of a sudden have the Republicans stopped playing by the rules?”
My stair-climbing friend smiled as though he possessed a great secret. “They think they’ve already won the fuckin’ war.”
“Wait a minute,” I said not satisfied. “What do you mean? The Dems have the presidency and the Senate. What’s this won the war?”
“The Re-pubs started 30…40 years ago dumbing down the country…cutting funds to public classrooms while at the same time increasing tuition at public colleges so the little public shits can’t go to college. We got a bunch of idiots running around now thanks to the Re-pubs’ attack. They are patient mothers; they don’t give up and they plan long term. Too bad the Dems don’t have some of their balls…”
“You talk like you admire them.”
“I respect my enemy. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t crush them like a fuckin’ bug if I had a chance.”
“So what do we do now? Do we have to become like them? Lie and distort like them?”
“There are no more agreements between gentlemen because there are no more gentlemen. It’s a fuckin’ war and you better get your head on straight. How do you fight a war? You become meaner and tougher than the other son of a bitch! Head on straight, my brother?”
“Head on straight,” I repeated, my own head spinning. This was not what I wanted to hear from the wisest guy in my neighborhood.
“It’s just like the war on terror,” said my wise friend. They terrorize us, we terrorize back, meaner and harder, except the terror this time is home grown.”
“You’re saying the Re-pubs are terrorists?”
“Hey, the VP, the nicest guy in the whole world just said it, not me. The Re-pub barbarians are not just at the gate, they’ve already taken the fuckin’ gate and are cutting it up and repacking it as a Wall Street derivative.”
“You’ve been waiting to work that in, haven’t you.”
“We still have to smile a little, don’t we? Look at it this way, you can’t say we didn’t see it coming, correct?”
I nodded while my friend stuck his sweaty wet hand out for a final shake. I took his hand and then tried to subtly wipe it on my pants.
The price we pay for a little wisdom, I guess, is worth at least a wet hand. I started to walk away, but thought of another question and turned back to him. But it was too late. The Guru of politics and fitness had already zoned out and was refocused on his workout, a slight smile of pleasure while globules of sweat flew through the air.