Folks, I gotta tell ya, I had a little trouble with this week’s blog. Just couldn’t get into the right headspace for some reason. Sure, there was the usual litany of abject madness to document, but there was something else, too.
I think it was maybe…hope? That’s a word, right? “Hope?” Feels kinda weird in my mouth, honestly. But good weird.
So, I grew up in Kansas, which is a wonderful place for a young progressive to move away from, and, based on all previous experience, my expectations of that electorate heading into Tuesday’s abortion referendum were…not real high. There wasn’t a lot of polling, and besides, we’re all battle-conditioned to expect that last-minute horde of rampaging regressives to emerge from yet another sewer Marist somehow failed to detect.
But let me say, it’s quite a bit more fun on the other side of an unforeseen voting surge. Wonder if Rich Lowry still feels so smug about the negligible effects of the “abortion controversy.” Of course, it’s still only one data point, and we can’t really know what it means for November until we get there, but the election nerds on the internet have been saying some mighty interesting things, and even better, the activists in Kansas helpfully left the rest of us one helluva mobilization blueprint.
But the good gnus didn’t stop there, as last week’s deus ex Manchina gave way, after a mildly excruciating waiting period, to Sinemania, and holy crap, it looks like we’re gettin’ a reconciliation bill! Then there was that unexpectedly good jobs report, plus, I found a nickel on the bathroom floor by the urinals!
Yeah…”hope.” I’m pretty sure that’s a real word, but it might be something I got from Dr. Seuss. I’ll look it up later.
Because there’s still an entire Augean stable of Republican madness to muck out, same as every week. Still, it is nice, for a change, to wade through it with some concrete reasons to believe all this asshat theocrat overreach is about to blow up in these motherfuckers’ faces.
Let’s start with the primaries.
We’re replacing What’s the Matter with Kansas? with By Satan’s Unholy Butthole What the Living Fuck is Wrong with You, Arizona? I don’t know what sort of artisanal, small-batch ivermectin they’re mainlining in that wing of the death cult, but it is very, very bad for the part of the brain that evaluates leadership qualities.
Gubernatorial candidate Kari Lake damn nears blacks out a conspiracy loon bingo card, yet still pales in comparison to the odious Blake Masters, who’ll fit right in on the unfit fuckwit Senate kickline, right between Herschel Walker and Dr. Oz.
I know I toss the word “kakistocracy” around a lot, but what else do you call this? If you were playing a game called What Job Should Herschel Walker Have, how many generations of your family would live and die before anyone suggested “United States Senator?”
Meanwhile, Tudor Dixon, the whackjob picked to take on Governor Whitmer in Michigan, is “only” an election denierand an anti-abortion fanatic, so she hasn’t generated much national media attention, since she hasn’t said anything like, I dunno, “George Soros puts carcinogens in Levi’s to give Real Americans butt cancer.” Yet.
At least the Missouri branch passed on both the violent sex criminal and the celebrity gun-pointer, though the Eric who emerged dominant from that particular turd-wrestling pit looks plenty disastrous on his own.
Speaking of, we really must mention the Velveeta Vulgarian’s mega-weaselly “I’m endorsing ALL THE ERICS tee hee” bet-hedging here, because it was such an exquisitely Trumpian piece of business, even more pathetic than the whole wait-till-the-polling-tells-me-who’s-going-to-win-and-I’ll-endorse-that-guy act he’s been pulling all year. Inheriting billions of dollars must be a ton of fun, but if it came with an inescapable, debilitating fear of being perceived as a loser, I think I’d pass.
(Spending every waking moment of your life in mortal terror that everyone around you thinks you’re a loser is what makes you a loser, by the way, you massive fucking loser. It takes literal cult-level indoctrination to make people overlook your towering loserdom.)
Anyhoo, all the usual wingnut primary rituals were observed; the losers’ furious proclamations of cheating, rigging, and general Jewish space-lasering; as ever, the smaller the vote total, the louder and shriller the yapping. The winners won fair and square of course, though the road to November runs through antifa country, and you best believe any voter who doesn’t want to be governed by meth-huffing freaks is a deep state plant, and probably a pedophile.
The Senate GOP finally ended their self-destructive shitfit, and passed the PACT Act, perhaps understanding this isn’t the moment to provide extra evidence of their loathsomeness to the public. Sure was fun watchin’ ‘em squirm, though. Shit, any time Ted Cruz feels like picking a messaging fight with Jon Stewart, I’m clearing my calendar.
Still, hydroxychloroquine spokesdolt Ron Johnson helpfully reminded the electorate that, in addition to their radioactive culture war aggression, Republicans would very much like to slash popular safety net programs, like Medicare and Social Security. Every day RoJo manages to get his shirt on without suffocating himself is a fucking miracle.
In the interest of full disclosure, I am hereby announcing that, like damn near every member of the Trump Administration, my text messages from January 6th, 2021 have mysteriously vanished, though mine revolved around a far humbler criminal conspiracy, to procure a small number of, let’s call them “special” brownies, from a gentleman of my acquaintance who prefers to remain anonymous at this time. I apologize and pledge to behave in exactly the same manner going forward.
Ron DeSantis, as part of his ongoing audition to become America’s Next Top Autocrat, suspended a democratically elected state attorney for refusing to flog all the filthy sluts who don’t understand that Ron DeSantis owns their bodies. You know, small government stuff. Not the move I’d make, post-Kansas, but then, I’m not a goose-stepping thug.
And the Deposed Dotard teamed up with the journalist-dismembering House of Saud to play some controversial new version of golf where, as I understand it, instead of putting, you rub blood money all over your nude, flaccid body. Box office for this revolutionary collision of brazen corruption and golf’s intrinsic boringness was, well, on-brand.
And yes, while Wee Donnie One-Term throws poorly-attended golf parties for terrorists, Joe Biden’s more inclined to send freaky, sci-fi knife missiles to kill them, which would probably give those sagging approval ratings a boost, if we still lived in a society with a bipartisan consensus that terrorism is bad.
While we’re on that topic, you remember last week, when it took days of public pressure to make Doug Mastriano grudgingly condemn his white nationalist buddy, who runs a social media hate site? Well, the response from the Gab "community" was a full fucking fusillade of anti-Semitic threats, which is absolutely bone-chilling, occurring so close to a Republican gubernatorial campaign, and I just had a stray vision of some future GOP where Dougie here is the venerable statesman, urging moderation as Donald Trump III calls for the forced sterilization of everybody who’s left-handed, and I don’t know whether to chuckle or weep.
The whole damn American Right, top to bottom, keeps on fumbling with fascism’s bra clasp in some shadowy corner of the Romney family car elevator, but I guess we’re numb to that by now. Vikky Orbán gave his sinister little Fascism For Dummies seminar at CPAC, to an audience of aspiring concentration camp middle managers, and America barely blinked.
You scroll right past articles about Capitol rioters getting sentenced, and some epidemiologist-threatening weirdo getting sentenced, with a vague sense that yeah, there’re always a bunch of domestic terrorists workin’ their way through the justice system nowadays, but then you land on New York Cop Bought Rifle for Neo-Nazi ‘Rapekreig’ Marine Who Planned Synagogue Attack, which is maybe the most disturbing procession of words I’ve ever encountered, and you think maybe we shouldn’t docilely accept this insanity as our new normal.
…still, at a certain point, Republicans’ll run the numbers, and “evolve” on felon voting rights, that’ll be something. All kindsa logistical difficulties pop up when your turnout strategy relies on inciting terrorist violence.
If you’re wondering why I gouged my eyes out, it was Alex Jones’ testimony this week. It’s delightful, of course, to finally bleed some cash out of that hate-engorged tick, but his shamelessness in the face of all the harm he’s caused, I just find it unbearable.
…the text messages bit was pretty sweet, though.
Those texts are on their way to every law enforcement outfit from the feds to the January 6th commission to the Teen Titans, by the way. Just think, Alex, all that time you spent terrorizing grieving families, you could’ve been googling “how can you tell if your lawyer’s brain is actually a half-consumed pudding cup that hasn’t been stored properly?” instead. Ah, hindsight.
Yeah, it’s been pretty gross out there, but I’m still dancin’, because KANSAS, y’all. It’s a whole dang new world out there; you stay safe so you can enjoy it with me.
I got big plans for that nickel, too.
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