Symbolman and I have been hard at work creating a new book, and thought our DailyKos friends would enjoy some chapter excerpts. It's been a while since our first book, Going Rouge: The Sarah Palin Rogue Coloring & Activity Book, and we're hoping the wait was well worth the result! Follow us on Twitter at @Symbolman and @jsigwart. Enjoy! --Julie
CHAPTER II. The Pool of GOP Candidate Tears
'Curiouser and curiouser!' cried Alice, filling up with facts; 'now I'm opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-bye, feet!' (for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost out of sight, they were getting so far off.).
Just then her head struck against the roof of the hall: in fact she was now more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden flash drive and hurried off to the netbook, a portal to that lovely garden.
Poor Alice! It was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to look at the garden screensaver with one eye; but to try and type on the tiny keyboard with her giant fingers was impossible. The earbuds were too small now to fit her ears at all, and as the Presidents message of hope faded, she felt more helpless than ever, so she sat down and began to cry again.
'You ought to be ashamed of yourself,' said Alice, 'crying like that John Boehner while accepting his giant clown gavel! Stop this moment, I tell you!' But she went on all the same, shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all round her, like the floor of the Chamber once the Speaker of the House finished a speech where he wasn't mad raving, about four inches deep and reaching half down the hall.
After a time she heard a little clomping of boots in the distance, and hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. It was the very White SuperPAC Rabbit returning, splendidly dressed in his ever so expensive suit, with a small black device in hand from which wires all hung out, and a large paper file titled "PLAYBOOK" in the other: he came trotting along in a great hurry, his voice sounding like one suffering a constant head cold, muttering into a cell phone as he came, 'Oh! the Duchess, the Duchess! Oh! She'll soon be on television to demonize the democrat party and I've not faxed her one single WORD to SAY!' Alice felt so desperate that she was ready to ask help of anyone; so, when the Rabbit came near her, she began, in a low, timid voice, 'If you please, sir--' The Rabbit stared at her, his piggy eyes mashed deep into his pasty face, from behind round glasses, as if she weren't even there, turned his back to strap the black device to his leg, then slipped the PLAYBOOK file onto the glass table, as if it were for her to Discover, and skittered away into the darkness as far as he could go.
As she fanned through his curious sheaf she suspected trickery, with her the vehicle, as this SuperPAC Rabbit WAS a political operative, and ever more so since the very first page read, "The Ultimate, Wholly Complete Final GOP Plan for Winning The Twenty-Twelve Election, You Bleeping Bleeps.", which set her to talking: 'Dear, dear! How queer everything is to-day! And yesterday things went on just as usual, with the Republicans accusing Democrats of THEIR tactics, how they turn a positive into a negative, the same technique to also neutralize an argument right from the start. I wonder if I've been changed in the night? I went to bed an Independent. Let me think: did I feel the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different, constantly assailed by media pushing this Tea Party as if it were some kind of actual alternative. But if I'm constantly told they're not the same as Republicans then perhaps I'm not the same, the next question is, who am I? Ah, THAT'S the great puzzle!'
'I'll try to reckon if I know all the things I used to know. Let me see: on their tax forms I had learned that four times five is twelve, and four times six is thirteen, and four times seven is--oh dear! Their Tax Tables may be nothing more than "fuzzy math", like that monstrous President went on about: THAT'S all wrong, I'm certain! I must have been changed, maybe by all those death taxes, or was it death "panels", or the promised offshore holdings?! I'll try and say "How Doth the Crocodile--"' and she crossed her hands on her lap as if she were saying lessons, and began to repeat it, but her voice sounded hoarse and strange, and the words did not come the same as they used to do:--
'How Doth the Zombie Cheney,
Improve his whirring heart,
Whilst stealing thine electricity
To power each Walmart!
'How cheerfully he seems to win,
To lie, and never to relent,
Who robbed he half the congressmen
While HE Was the government!'
'I'm sure those are not the right words, that's certainly not what FOX News told me at all, ever' said poor Alice, and her eyes filled with tears again as she went on, 'and I am so VERY tired of being all alone here!'
As she said this she looked down at her hands, and was surprised to see that they had shrunk. 'How CAN I have done that?' she thought. 'I must be growing small again.' She got up and went to the table to measure herself by it, and found that, as nearly as she could guess, she was now about two feet high, and was going on shrinking rapidly: she soon found out the cause of this: as the abundant Misinformation offered within that PLAYBOOK was much the same as NO information, then she must drop it at once to avoid shrinking away altogether.
'That WAS a narrow escape!' said Alice, a good deal frightened at the sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence; 'and now for the garden!' and she ran with all speed back to the netbook: but, alas! the netbook had powered down again, and the golden flash drive was lying on the glass table as before, 'and things are worse than ever, 'thought the poor child, 'for I never was so small as this before, never! And I declare it's too bad, that it is!'
As she said these words her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash! she was up to her chin in salt water. Her first idea was that she had somehow fallen into the sea, however, she soon made out that she was in the pool of tears which she had wept when she was nine feet high.
'I wish I hadn't cried so much!' said Alice, as she swam about, trying to find her way out. 'I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being drowned in my own tears! That WILL be a queer thing, to be sure! However, everything is queer today. And by queer I certainly do not mean "gay", for many of my friends are of that persuasion, and quite a good, decent and happy lot.'
Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off, and she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought it must be an Elephant, or perhaps John Galt flailing as he drowned, but then she remembered how small she was now, plus there really wasn't any such thing as a John Galt, and she soon made out that it was only a rat that had slipped in like herself.
'Would it be of any use, now,' thought Alice, 'to speak to this rat? I always try to be bipartisan, but as everyone seems ever so argumentative down here I should think it very likely it can talk: perhaps take an opposite stance, or a little obfuscation while offering no solution, and though it may be a waste of time, it's worth a try.' So she began: 'O Rat, do you know the way out of this pool? I am very tired of swimming about here, O Rat!' The Rat looked at her rather inquisitively, and seemed to her to wink with one of its little eyes, but it said nothing.
'Perhaps it doesn't understand plain English,' thought Alice; 'I daresay it's a Tea Party Rat, come over with that John Birch Society.' So she began again: 'Are you a GOP rat?'. The Rat gave a sudden leap out of the water, and seemed to quiver all over with rage. 'Oh, I beg your pardon!' cried Alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt the poor animal's feelings. 'I had a feeling you weren't quite like Republicans.'
'ME, Ron Paul, NOT like Republicans! I AM One!' cried the Rat, in a shrill, passionate voice. 'Yet, would YOU like Republicans if you were me? Why, in 2008 THEY refused to allow me to speak at their Convention, WHILE I was running for King!'
'Goodness me, well, perhaps not,' said Alice in a soothing tone: 'but you're still angry about it? Yet I wish I could show you our GOP representative: I think you'd take a fancy to Republicans if you could only see her. She is such a dear right wing media darling,' Alice went on, half to herself, as she swam lazily about in the pool, 'and she's for nearly NO taxes, while spending trillions on a war machine, off the books of course--and she wants the social safety net to be made so small you could drown it in a pool of tears--and she's all for rich corporations privatizing Everything--oh, I beg your pardon!' cried Alice again, for this time the Rat was bristling all over, and she felt certain it must be really offended. 'We won't talk about them any more if you'd rather not.'
'We indeed!' cried the Rat, who was trembling with anger down to the end of his tail. 'As if I would talk on such a subject! Our family always HATED Republicans: nasty, low, vulgar things! My son should personally stomp on all their heads, while I honorably disavow his actions!'
'I won't indeed!' said Alice, puzzled at the fashion in which the Rat spoke about his very own party, in a great hurry she changed the subject of conversation. 'Are you--are you fond--of--of Blue Dogs?' The Rat did not answer, so Alice went on eagerly: 'There is such a nice little Blue Dog in our district I should like to show you! A little bright-eyed Southerner, you know, so very adept at using troops to further themselves politically! And it'll fetch votes when Republicans throw it a bone, and it'll sit up and beg for its pork to be added to legislation, an expert at all sorts of obstructions--I can't remember half of them--and nearly completely owned by several corporations, you know, which is so useful when one wishes to spend millions in advertising buys! He's there to kill all chances for any meaningful laws being passed by Democrats and--oh dear!' cried Alice in a sorrowful tone, 'I'm afraid I've offended it again!' For the Rat was swimming away from her as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in the pool as it went, shouting 'Atlas Shrugged!' over and over again to the point of nearly drowning itself.
So she called softly after it, 'Rat dear! Do come back again, and we won't talk about the GOP or Blue Dogs either, though I should think you'd like both of them!' When the Rat heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to her: its face was quite pale (with passion, Alice thought), and it said in a low trembling voice, 'First you must understand what you have fallen into, and why there are more tears than just yours. This is the Two Thousand and Twelfth GOP Presidential Candidate Pool, now let us get to the shore, and then I'll tell you my history, and you'll understand why it is I hate Republicans and Blue Dogs.'
It was high time to go, for the Two Thousand and Twelfth GOP Presidential pool was getting quite crowded with the birds and animals that had fallen into it: there were a Duck (Santorum) and a Dodo (Gingrich), a Lory(Perry) and an Eaglet (Romney), and several other curious creatures or beasts, all pushing to shore a muttering snake waving a yellow flag that read, curiously enough, 'Don't Read To Me' as Alice led the way, and the whole party swam to greet the press.
CHAPTER III. A Media-Race and a Long Tale
They were indeed a queer-looking group of GOP Party Presidential candidates that assembled on the bank -- the birds preening in their very expensive suits, the candidate's campaign manager beasts waving clipboards about, all clamoring about what to say and not say, still and all dripping wet, cross, uncomfortable, and painfully incomprehensible.
The first question of course, as they dried and preened: was about their political platforms or talking points, and to which camera they should talk into, since the roving packs of video cameras had appeared to interview them all. As the media consulted with the candidates, offering questions in advance, after a few minutes it seemed quite natural and familiar to Alice, as if she had heard these questions all her life.
Indeed, she had quite a long argument with the sulky Lory, who wanted to pray everything away but secession, because that's what they do in its Texas, and who at last would only say, 'If you don't know what I stand for, it's only because the Liberal Media hasn't told it to you, and you mustn't listen to the Liberal Media'; and this Alice would not allow without knowing what its position was, and, as the Lory positively refused to tell its position, there was no more to be said.
The media for their part were only interested in the most outrageous statements to come, and this situation had created great difficulty for them as they had been selling outrage for so long now that it had become nearly commonplace, still, their cameras and time were very expensive and not to be wasted on simple facts, figures, or solutions, and while those could now be considered Uncommon, they bored the commoners.
At last the Rat, seemingly a person of authority among them, acknowledged by some to be the intellectual father of the Tea Party, called out, 'Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! I'LL soon enough make you all appear moderate!' They all sat down at once, the video cameras forming a large ring, with the Rat in the middle. Alice kept her eyes anxiously fixed on the cameras, for a person HAS to believe in SOMETHING, and she had hope that somehow the media was there to make some sense of it all.
'Ahem!' said the Rat with an important air, 'are you all ready? As you all know, I've given up my seat in Congress to run for King again. Clapping? Silence all round, if you please! I am now free to say anything I please. And You, you hail freedom, yet you all supported the Patriot Act and other expansions of executive power.'
'Ugh!' said the Lory, with a shiver, 'Let us all Pray as if you had anything to say.'
'I beg your pardon!' said the Rat, frowning, but very politely: 'Did you speak?'
'Not I!' said the Lory hastily, 'That was God, the old testament God, not his Son, a feckless union man.'
'I thought you did,' said the Rat, ignoring the Lory's outburst, much like the public. '--I proceed. You call yourself conservatives, yet I found it deplorable that it hasn't occurred to you that you can't be conservative and send thousands of young Americans to die in the Middle East.'
'Found WHAT?' said the Duck.
'Found IT,' the Rat replied rather crossly: 'of course you know what "it" means. Don't give me that Clinton dodge.'
'Oh, I know what "it" means well enough, when I find a thing,' said the Duck: 'it's generally frothy or anti-gay. The question is would anyone in their right mind vote for someone once they Googled "Santorum" for President?'
The Rat did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, 'and, how can any true conservative say that the 911 attack had anything to do with going to war in Iraq?--" How are you getting on now, my dear?' it continued, turning to Alice as it spoke.
'As confused as ever,' said Alice in a melancholy tone: 'I daresay SOMEONE has to take responsibility for that war.'
'Heresy! Hearsay! The Nerve!,' said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, 'I move that the candidates waste no more time on the Rat, and instead engage in an immediate Media-Race, and take our case to the American cameras. Oh. I believe I meant the American people--'
'Let's ask Frank Luntz! He'll know what to say!' said the Eaglet, spreading his wings ever so wide as his campaign manager beast sprayed layer after layer of plasticine over his glistening feathers. 'Americans don't know the meaning of half those long words, and, what's more, I don't believe you do either!' And the Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile, and preen yet more until every single feather was in place: some of the other birds tittered audibly, while campaign manager beasts typed furiously on their smart phones.
'Who knows better about repurposing words than I?,' said the Dodo in an offended tone, 'I wrote the Contract with America! I not only owned the narrative, but repurposed political reality itself! What I WAS saying, is that the best thing for all the candidates right now, would be a Media-race.'
'What IS a Media-race?' said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that SOMEBODY ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything.
'Why,' said the Dodo, 'it's the best way for corporations to install a President, one most likely to give all the middle class and poor people's money to defense contractors and the Pentagon, and again how we assist the media in repurposing the commoners very Reality. Most of what they see, taste, smell, hear and fear is brought to them by corporations or their media. Plus we give proletariats something to complain about, which in the end keeps them all too Busy to actually DO a thing about it. Meanwhile we all work towards throwing open the grain stores to the rich.' (And, as you might like to fill up your blogs about how you might do it yourself, there in your mother's basement, I will tell you how the Dodo managed it.)
First it marked out a Media race-course, the sort of circle a small child might draw, if one could pry it away from a television ('the exact shape doesn't matter as long as it's a closed loop, and we can keep out those who would ask questions we'd be forced to answer beyond our talking points,' it said,) and then all the candidates were placed along the course, here and there.
There was no 'One, two, three, and away,' but they began by running to the cameras when they liked, and walked away when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. Some candidates hadn't even admitted they were running for President, and indeed worked FOR the very Media interviewing them, which was all very wink, wink, and not very legal, but the best part of that was that there was no one left who could do a single thing about it.
Occasionally while sharing their peculiar talking points candidates made errors, as if they themselves were unaware of their own platforms, but the campaign manager beasts swept into the mix and shouted about how the candidate MEANT to say the very opposite thing, and the media was more than happy to erase the mistake, or the punditocracy talked over and around this gaffe like it had never existed at all. It was most important to intimate that the current President was a bad man, without offering any real proof at all, other than what was made up on the spot offered up as proof, but they were also very firm about how it had nothing to do with him being a black man, while making very sure everyone knew he WAS a Black Man. If that didn't work, attacking his wife seemed the right thing to do, as they pointed out how she wanted to starve children, with her silly excuse being that it would somehow make them healthier.
However, after all had been running full tilt for half an hour or so, quite tired of repeating the same buzzwords over and again, the Dodo suddenly called out 'The Media Race is over!' and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking, 'But who has won?'
This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead, wrist jewelry halting with a clatter, while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, 'According to the Media - EVERYBODY has won, and all must have prizes.'
'But who is to give the prizes?' quite a chorus of voices asked.
'Why, SHE, of course, isn't she a lobbyist?' said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with one finger; and the whole party at once crowded round her, patting each other on the back, calling out, 'PORK! PORK!'
Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her pocket, and was amazed to find it held a sheaf of book contracts, pre-signed by major publishers (she had no idea how they'd got there), and as she tried to hand them round as prizes, the campaign manager beasts snatched them from her hand and pored over them with great intensity, complaining loudly that it was not nearly enough advance money, barely enough for them to bother pilfering from their clients. Then again, all were in agreement that it WOULD kill a lot of trees. There was exactly one for each, all round.
'But she must have a prize herself, you know,' said the Rat, 'a gold bar!'
'Of course you'd say that, return to the gold standard, indeed' the Dodo replied very gravely. 'But at the moment I'm rather tapped out at Tiffanys, three wives you know, plus that ethics violation I'm still paying off.' He sighed, 'What else have you got in your pocket?' he went on, turning to Alice.
'Only a tax table,' said Alice sadly.
'Hand it over here,' said the Dodo.
Then they all crowded round her once more, while the Dodo and the rest took pens from suit coats, each scratching out numbers, and others adding some more until the page was nearly completely black. They covered their beaks with their wings, and she was sure she heard muffled laughter as the Dodo solemnly presented the blackened page, saying 'We beg your acceptance of this elegant Tax Write Off, may it keep you coated in furs, while flying your private jet to your fat offshore bank accounts'; and, when it had finished this short speech, they all cheered.
Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, 'Sadly, I don't have a job, so of course I pay NO Taxes!' to which they all cried, 'No Job! Why, you're those people who MUST Pay the MOST Taxes!' and this had them all looking so grave yet she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of anything to say, she simply bowed, and took the paper, looking as solemn as she could despite the copious ink staining her fingers.
The next thing they were all running back to the cameras to announce their book deals: this caused some noise and confusion, as the campaign manager beasts had put a bug in each of the best polling candidates ears to make the complaint that their advance was too small, and those suffering from zero name recognition did their best to not appear choked with too much gratitude, while the Media patted them all on the back. However, it was over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, forcing themselves to beg the Rat to tell them something more. (For you see, they had no use whatsoever for the Rat's talking points, yet had to attend to him publicly, in case Tea Party members were watching who needed fooling, made to think these candidates were ever so happy to include them.)
'You promised to tell me your history, you know,' said Alice, 'and why it is you hate--the GOP and Blue Dogs,' she added in a whisper, half afraid that it would be offended again.
'Mine is a long and a sad tale!' said the Rat, turning to Alice, and sighing. 'Where disbanding the Departments of Education, or the IRS, and not catering to Lobbyists isn't on the radar for neither the GOP nor the Blue Dogs!'
'It IS a long tail, certainly,' said Alice, looking down with wonder at the Rat's tail; 'but why do you call it sad?' And she kept on puzzling about it while the Rat was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was something like this:--
'Look! The Media are NOT paying attention to ME!' said the Rat to Alice severely. 'What are they thinking of?'
'I beg your pardon,' said Alice very humbly: 'I have no control over the Media, but I would guess if you were a democrat by now they'd be running footage of a water skiing squirrel. Perhaps if you said something outrageous, more so than any of the others?'
The Rat stood above the rest, waving at cameras as they panned the crowd, and said, 'Last time I ran for President I brought in the most ever money online - on Guy Fawkes Day!' A few cameras turned about in his direction, and he appeared to be making progress.
Alice responded, 'Not quite outrageous enough, and a little queer as well.' She sighed, 'but as everything is ever so queer here I suppose it may work.'
He shouted again, 'President Bush and the GOP Congress shattered spending records, and exploded the deficit!', quickly, cameras switched off or were aimed at the sky.
'Oh my,' said Alice, seeing candidates flinching in unison, terrified, as lens covers were applied hastily, 'I'm afraid while that's horribly true, sadly, no one wants to hear that. Or that being the reason for the debt ceiling at the start. Sorry.'
'These are Not True Conservatives!' cried the Rat, sharply and very angrily, 'if they were they'd shrink the government to the size of this girl!'
'Oh why have they left such a knot in your tail!' said Alice, always ready to make herself useful, looked anxiously about her. 'Oh, do let me help you to find more appropriate media! Look there's FOX News, right over there! They'll no doubt give you the questions first.'
'I shall do nothing of the sort,' said the Rat, getting up and walking away. 'You insult me by talking such nonsense! Everyone knows I can't stick to a script!'
'I didn't mean it! Perhaps you should sell yourself as some kind of a "rogue"' pleaded poor Alice. 'And you shouldn't be so easily offended, you know!'
The Rat growled in reply, yanking the tiny microphone from its fur, 'That's Dormouse's Shtick, along with that idiotic Queen of Hearts! Atlas Shrugged!!' the eyes of the other candidates opened wide, along with a sharp intake of breath all around.
'Please come back and finish your story!' Alice called after it; and the rest all joined in chorus, 'Yes, please do! Especially the part where you condemn all the children and elderly to death, only with fewer taxes! Plus you make US all look SO GOOD!' but the Rat only shook its head impatiently, and scampered a little quicker, pausing for a second to shout over its shoulder, 'VICTORY in the Conventional sense is Not Available!' before it scooted away.
'What a pity it wouldn't stay!' sighed the Lory, who then brightened, 'Oh well, more voters for us. And God knows we need them. Too bad God can't help us pass more legislation to starve everyone we pray for. Oops. The cameras ARE Off, correct?' as soon as the Rat was quite out of sight; and an old Crab wearing a sun bonnet ringed all about with swinging tea bags took the opportunity of saying to her daughter 'Ah, my dear! Let this be a lesson to you - never to lose YOUR temper on Camera!' 'Now, don't YOU Tread on ME, Ma!' said the young Crab, a little snappishly. 'You're enough to try the patience of a lobbyist!'
'I wish we had a real leader here, I know I do!' said Alice aloud, addressing nobody in particular. 'She'd soon fetch the Rat back!'
'She? A woman?! What is a Leader, exactly, if I might venture to ask the question?' said the Eaglet, holding ever so still as a campaign manager beast buffed his face to a high sheen.
Alice replied eagerly, for she was always ready to talk about someone actually accomplishing SOMETHING: 'Hillary was very nearly President. And she's such a capital one for bringing everyone together, you can't think! And oh, I wish you could see her go after conservatives! Why, she'd chew up a Republican as soon as look at it!'
This speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the suited birds hurried off at once, others were dragged by their campaign manager beasts, who muttered in their ears: one old manager beast, Mary Matalin, began wrapping it up very carefully, remarking, 'It's not flip flopping when WE do it!' and a CNN Canary called out in a trembling voice to its camera persons, 'Come away, my dears! We'll not be tweeting THIS story in a long while!' On various pretexts they all moved off, and Alice was soon left alone.
'I wish I hadn't mentioned Hillary!' she said to herself in a melancholy tone. 'Nobody seems to like her, down here, and I'm sure she's the quite the best example of a woman bashing through the glass ceiling in the world of politics! Oh, my dear Hillary! I wonder if we shall ever see you run for office anymore!' And here poor Alice began to cry again, for she felt very lonely and low-spirited. In a little while, however, she again heard a little clatter of tiny jackboots in the distance, and she looked up eagerly, half hoping that the Rat had changed his mind, and was coming back to entertain her with his ever more curious outlook once more.
CHAPTER IV. The Rabbit Sends in a Little W
It was the Very White SuperPAC Rabbit, sneaking back again, and looking anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard it muttering to itself 'The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear jackboots! Oh, my bald head and stuffy nose! She'll blow this gig, as sure as her adams apple boldly juts! Who can I pin all this on, I wonder?' Alice guessed in a moment that it was his bugging device and PLAYBOOK, and she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but as she recalled, he had bugged himself, and the PLAYBOOK was nowhere to be seen--everything seemed to have changed since the Media Race, and the great hall, with the glass table and the netbook, had vanished completely.
mAlice in Wonderland: A Tea Party Fable, is the second book from Micheal Stinson & Julie Sigwart, authors/illustrators of Going Rouge: The Sarah Palin Rogue Coloring & Activity Book."
More excerpts and information about the book can be found at http://www.tbtmmedia.com.