The Quantum Weirdness from the McCain Campaign Has Reached Critical Levels. Just listen!
Happily, the McCain campaign seems to have turned into a Pinter play, complete with long pauses and megalomaniac lowlifes longing for God or something similar.
Within the past two week we’ve seen McCain "suspend" his campaign so he could save the nation’s economy from the deregulatory policies the Arizona flyboy championed up to just two weeks ago. We’ve heard that Palin’s mother-in-law gave a glass of lye detergent to a little girl, thinking (somehow or other) that it was fruit juice (lime perhaps), and then suing the federal government for her mistake. She lost. Dumbfounded, we’ve viewed the YouTube video of McCain calling on the Undertaker from Vince McMahon’s World Wrestling Entertainment to defeat Bin Ladin in some kind of pay-per-view spectacle (it makes more sense, I guess, than expecting Bush to find the 9-11 mastermind). Nervously, we listened to McCain, a self-described foreign policy uberlord, mistake the prime minister of Spain, Jose Luis Zapatero, for the Mexican insurgent group, the Zapatistas, a mistake that awkwardly just went on and on and on and on. Enchanted, we learned that viewing Mother Russia over the Bering Strait constitutes foreign policy experience (making the entire Inuit tribe the likely candidate for Secretary of State under a McCain administration), and somebody will get back to us with details about just how maverick-like McCain conducted himself during those heady days when he oversaw the deregulation of the banking industry. Buoyed up, we’ve seen the minister of Palin’s church blessing her coifed head, talking in tongues, and praying for God to protect her against the ever-present danger of witches.
I don’t know about you, but I somehow feel safer just knowing that if Palin does become president the nation is protected against attacks by witches, even if the Undertaker doesn’t defeat Bin Ladin. Well, marginally safer.
And we saw Palin wink at America during the debates, just like the owner of the local big screen television store on a late night commercial after shouting does he have a deal for you!
Yes, a Pinter play. With a special appearance by Mister MaGoo. And there's no admission fee. Except for the $700,000,000,000 bail out.
All this was predictable (I warned you blogs and blogs ago). Those of us who have looked into the darkness that is the conservative soul realized long ago that conservatism is less a political philosophy than a personality disorder. And now, we are witnessing this dysfunction in its final frantic stages, the collective nervous breakdown of conservatism. After being purified in the atom smasher of the presidential campaign, all that is left of Goldwater and Reagan and Archie Bunker are particles of quantum weirdness shimmering on the national stage, like so many balls of buckshot issuing from Dick Cheney’s hunting rifle in the general direction of a friend.
After Bush and his economic wrecking crew have called on the US government to nationalize and/or bail out one failed go-go financial institutions after the next, culminating in the proposed gazillion dollar charitable contribution to wealthy stockholders for the bad debt that resulted from conservative wage suppression policies (remember those?), conservatism lies twitching on the shrink’s couch, drooling, stuck with an IV drip of T-bills (for liquidity), dissociated from the harsh reality it worked so hard to create. I mean, they can’t even criticize Hugo Chavez any more for nationalizing Venezuela’s oil industry. When it comes to socializing industry, conservatives now make Chavez look like a CPA at a Rotary Club breakfast.
All that’s left for conservatives is the melancholy recognition that it never was about small government, fiscal responsibility and free enterprise. It was really about enriching the rich, empowering the powerful, exploiting the exploited. Just like liberals said all along.
And now, back to the final scene of "The Dumb Waiter" starring Sarah Palin in the title role.