GOP

Newt, Not The Onion

May 19, 2011 By Sean Murphy Leave a Comment

Someone has needed to pull a Josey Wales on Newt Gingrich for a very long time. It turns out he can do it just fine himself, thank you very little.

I’ve already said all I cared to say about the insufferable, but always (unintentionally) amusing Newt Gingrich. I half-excitedly have kept my powder dry, in the hope that he somehow would weasel his way to the top of the unimpressive roster of Republican nitwits vying for their chance to get beaten badly by Obama in 2012.

Here is what I said last summer:

Let’s cut to the chase: I would wage considerable sums of money that there is no chance Newt could ever weasel his way into the nomination for 2012. Frankly I don’t think God loves us enough to make that remote possibility a reality. However, few things would provide me more pleasure. It might even be worth praying for.

I have to say, he remains the gift that keeps giving. There is not much I had any interest in saying, since he was doing so much of the heavy lifting this past week to immolate himself (as predicted by anyone not inexplicably in thrall to his con act; that so many in the media still give this snake oil salesman the time of day is bewildering).

But as a person who puts pen to paper on a daily basis, I am compelled to take note of the stink bomb he dropped yesterday. (His staff seems obliged to fall on the sword, but there is little doubt the Newster wrote or at least helped write this ridiculous, embarrassing dreck.)

The literati sent out their minions to do their bidding. Washington cannot tolerate threats from outsiders who might disrupt their comfortable world. The firefight started when the cowardly sensed weakness. They fired timidly at first, then the sheep not wanting to be dropped from the establishment’s cocktail party invite list unloaded their entire clip, firing without taking aim their distortions and falsehoods. Now they are left exposed by their bylines and handles. But surely they had killed him off. This is the way it always worked. A lesser person could not have survived the first few minutes of the onslaught. But out of the billowing smoke and dust of tweets and trivia emerged Gingrich, once again ready to lead those who won’t be intimated by the political elite and are ready to take on the challenges America faces.

That’s not The Onion, folks.

The only thing I can say to that is: Wow.

And, thanks, as always, Newt, for just being you.

Here is the original post from last July:

This just in: Newt gingrich remains the most repugnant and despicable ass-clown in America!

(Narrowly edging out the oleaginous Andrew Breitbart, who may finally have done civilization a favor by making himself impossible to take seriously in any respectable circles.)

In terms of offensiveness, illogic and opportunism, the insufferable one may have outdone himself here:

There should be no mosque near Ground Zero in New York so long as there are no churches or synagogues in Saudi Arabia. The time for double standards that allow Islamists to behave aggressively toward us while they demand our weakness and submission is over.

And lest anyone think I’m shooting a pale, bloated and loquacious fish in a barrel, let it be known that I’m actually offering Gingrich more than a little benefit of the doubt. I am inclined to believe that he knows better and says most of the things he says (trying to be incendiary, ending up being insidious) to stir the sluggish pot of ditto-heads, “Don’t Tread On Me” types, and the no-taxes troglodytes who invariably live in counties most reliant upon the largesse of government and well-paid (and heavily taxed) liberal elite socialist sorts. Indeed, I have no choice but to conclude he knows better, because the irony (and idiocy) would be too unbearable if this bozo, who constantly invokes his authority on founding fathers (always wrongly, such as his demonstrably incorrect insistence that men like Jefferson and Washington were devout Christians and, more, designed the new country to be a “Christian nation”—which is literally the opposite of the very documents they created) actually believed the garbage he so often spews.

Check it out: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” Pretty hard to misinterpret or spin, no? Not unless your audience consists of the willfully illiterate and mouth-breathing masses who turn to Fox news for a quick fix for what (Roger) ails them. Any serious thinker who hopes to be taken seriously does everything in his power to avoid leaning on the ever-reliable George Orwell, but sometimes no other analogy will do. In the intellectual wasteland that passes for the Republican party these days, down truly is up and night really is day. Only in this contemporary dystopia on the Right could anyone with the ability to reason (or read) fail to understand the difference between what the founding fathers wrote and fearful bigots fantasize about.

It became increasingly obvious (and unnerving) during the aftermath of 9/11 and the run-up to the ’04 election that nothing would please the religious right lunatic fringe more than to essentially become honky Taliban. Of course they would be aghast at such an offensive characterization. But think about it: these are the same sociopaths who endorse an oligarchic state (a bathtub-sized government run by the untaxed and unregulated wealthy), covet the conversion of all to Christianity (not, incidentally, the type espoused by Christ but the type reformulated by white, often closeted gay men lashing out against their own uncontainable impulses), and openly proselytize the possibility of a single preferred religion. (The peripheral analogies include the behavior and attitudes toward women, the dispossessed and impoverished, the zeal for censorship, the defense of government spying and the embrace of anti-intellectualism. As Andrew Sullivan and Christopher Hitchens have pointed out without hyperbole, these are all genuine hallmarks of Fascistic ideologies.)

Bottom line: equating the tolerance of a Muslim learning center with “submission” and an indication of the “timidity, passivity and historic ignorance of American elites” (in addition to being a profound case of transparent projection), is a craven and fallacious misnomer that needs to be forcefully called out, and rejected. Indeed, if this disgusting sentiment was translated into another language and placed in a thought bubble above any ayatollah, it would seem like the ranting of an intolerant dime-store despot. Which is exactly what it is.

It almost makes you want to sardonically cheer Newt on and see how the dots connect, down the road, with the hard lines he endorses and how their implementation would affect ordinary Americans. Why stop at establishing (or rewriting history to assert there was) an official religion, let’s begin slicing off thieves’ hands with scimitars; let’s make certain types of artistic expression illegal; let’s throw rocks at adulterers…oops! See what happens, Newt? When you crawl out from under your rock and use it as a soapbox, you are eventually and inevitably hoisted by your own petard. And Newt, as much as any self-righteous offender, is serially petarded.

Of course the other, egregious fallacy of Newt’s outburst is the notion that the world is (or ever was) split into “us and them” (certainly it is if you are indifferent to and frightened of the “Other” and seek to divide susceptible citizens for naked political gain); Americans are Americans (presumably white Christians, natch) and Muslims are Muslims (presumably dark-skinned jihadists). This willfully ignores the fact that Muslims, as well as myriad other religions, cultures and creeds, all exist peacefully and democratically in the United States of America. Your average second grader is capable of understanding this, but not your average Tea Partier—which is exactly what Gingrich, with the subtlety of a raccoon in a trashcan, is relying on. But this underscores the always-ugly underpinning of the contemporary conservative mind (which is not terribly evolved from the historical conservative mind): the facile (and fictional) formulation that our great nation—a nation comprised of and built by immigrants—has a preferred demographic. Not so ironically, the only time this explicitly was the case happened to be (mostly in the south) during the sordid spectacle of slavery. Implicitly, that bias still extends to women, as well as non-whites, but in virtually all legal and moral respects, that type of race-baiting bigotry is discredited on arrival. In today’s right-wing sprint to the bottom of the tea-pot, this is the fuel that drives the cause. But like that other cause so fondly (and wrongly) reminisced about in certain quarters, it is a lost one and tends to spoil when exposed to the direct light of reality.

Filed Under: Politics Tagged With: GOP, Josey Wales, Newt Gingrich, The Onion

The Power of Magical Thinking: Reflections on Reagan

February 8, 2011 By Sean Murphy 4 Comments

Part One: Fact

The fortieth president turns 100 and a religious cult (also known as the Republican Party) can’t name buildings after him quickly enough.

Is there room for Reagan on Mt. Rushmore?

I’ll leave it to the inimitable Bill Hicks who suggested: “Let’s put him under Mt. Rushmore.”

But on the occasion of The Ill Communicator’s centennial, it is important –if not particularly instructive– to remember what actually happened, and how we got to where we are today: a political landscape where any conservative has learned to praise the holy trinity: Reagan, God and country.

It’s too easy, right?

Has it really come to this? (Has it always been thus?) All some Americans need is a person to play the part and tell them how great they are, how amazing we are, and then, no matter how much the unemployment rate and the deficit spikes, it’s all good because we feel good? It is too easy and that is too simple. But the more one looks at Reagan (the man, the myth, the legend –literally), the more difficult it becomes to reach any other conclusion. What exacerbates the inanity of this (very remunerative, just ask He Who Is Incapable of Shame, our old friend Newt Gingrich) enterprise is the fact that virtually everything today’s wide-eyed republicans want to believe about St. Ronnie doesn’t square with the, well, inconvenient truth of his actual record.

But, after considerable deliberation, oceans of black ink (er…galaxies of electronic ink) and head-scratching intense enough to furrow trenches on sentient scalps, it turns out that it really is that easy.

It is the power of magical thinking, the fulcrum upon which most religious and political momentum swings: all it requires is uncritical, unblinking fealty and you’d be amazed how simple, and ceaselessly restorative this exercise can be for the unenquiring mind. All of a sudden the world shrinks, Santa Claus exists, America is God’s favorite country, God is white, Jesus is a capitalist and the New Testament is a socialist primer.

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled, Baudelaire once wrote, was convincing the world he doesn’t exist. Well, the greatest trick the GOP ever pulled was convincing its flock that the devil does exist. The way to keep the Evil One at bay is to close your eyes and believe a few immutable commandments: no taxes ever on anyone, the media is liberal, government is the problem (by far the most invoked and insidious lie of Reagan’s legacy), and never, ever question The Man –unless he happens to be a Democrat.

How else can you get people to consistently vote for policies that devastate them, counter every teaching of the (honky) Jesus and weaken our country except, of course, for the obscenely wealthy who rewrite the rules as they go along.

So…what does any of this have to do with Reagan?

To paraphrase the not-so-great Donald Rumsfeld: “You go to war with the president you have, not the president you might want or wish to have at a later time.”

So it was in 1981.

We did not go to war, of course, and that may –or may not– be the point. Is there a point (literally, figuratively) to reimagining the causes, effects, errors and triumphs of a particular presidency? It happened. I’m at peace with it (what choice do I have?), and if I refuse to call Washington National Airport by another name, so be it; in fact, Christopher Hitchens put it best when he opined that it was already named after a rather important president, thank you very much.

The good folks at ThinkProgress have done some nice work, reminding people who already know (the people who don’t know and need to read this will never go to that site, naturally) the facts vs. the fabrications. It’s a good primer in the event you find yourself discussing Reagan’s dubious legacy with a true believer. Check it out.

Then, of course, we always have the aforementioned Bill Hicks, who saw through the B.S. (even before it went into the full-power spin cycle) two decades ago:

So let’s review the facts. Historical fact (as in: the record, on file, which is growing and decaying before our widening eyes) would make it challenging to counter the assertion that Reagan’s enduring legacy is one of exclusion and inequity. Many people would love to argue the point, and many have been. Of course, it always helps to consider who is doing the spinning. As we’ve seen in the very short time since his death (indeed, in an initiative that kicked off years before he even kicked the bucket), a very intense and targeted effort was undertaken to ensure that the beatification of Reagan became the cause nearest and dearest to those who stand to profit the most from his hagiography. Led by the insufferable conjoined twins of neo-con nationalism, Grover Norquist and Newt Gingrich, it became good business to do everything humanly possible in the way of rehabilitating an image that was far from lionized in the late ’80s.

Fortunately, in the week some celebrate his life, we can revisit two fantastic pieces debunking the very cynical (and appallingly successful) attempt to mythologize this very simple and radioactive political poseur. William Kleinknecht here and Will Bunch here do some heavy lifting in the service of truth. And to say the scales covering the eyes of the hoodwinked are heavy is understating the obvious, as Reagan becomes the conservative alternative to Che Guevara. To say that we are in dire need of some uncomfortable (for some) corrections for the sake of perspective, particularly as we see the soiled seeds of this Reagan Revolution bearing full fruit in our imploding economy, is scarcely stating the case strongly enough.

Part Two: Fiction (sort of)*

Like everyone else I know, I grew up—really grew up, if I’ve ever actually grown up—in the Reagan 80’s. Take my childhood, please. Actually, it wasn’t all that bad. During the extreme periods of boom and busted, pro and convicts, the majority in the middle seldom feel the pain, they rarely see the cocked fists and hoisted heels. It’s the people on the poles, the haves and haven’ts, who taste the changes the have lesses can afford to ignore.

But now, after the 90’s—on the verge of oblivion, as always—we have anti-inflation. We’ve got more money than we know what to do with; we’ve gotten so good at counting it we need to make more just to keep up, we keep making it so that we will still have something to do. Capitalism isn’t wrong, but neither is intelligence: you cannot spend money and make money—someone is always paying the tab (and it’s usually the poor suckers who can’t spend it who take it in the ass so that anonymous, ancient bored members can pulverize their portfolios). In other words, working where I work, with neither the best nor the brightest bulbs in the professional firmament, I can see for myself that this has nothing to do with talent, necessarily. It’s about numbers. Like an army, like America. Whether you’re a company or a cult (like an army, like America), you simply want to amass enough manpower so that nothing else matters. Quality? Integrity? Originality? Nice, all, but they’ve got nothing on the numbers. When you’re big enough, you don’t have to beat anyone up, your rep precedes you and quells all contenders. You don’t have to fight anymore. Safety in numbers, sure, but there’s more at stake than simply survival—people are trying to make money.

Look: I’m not unaware of the wealth our deal cutters are creating, and I’m not unappreciative when they sign my paychecks. In the 80’s, or any other time, you had the fat-walleted fuckheads trying to multiply their millions by any means necessary; they didn’t just disregard the reality of putting their foot on nameless faces to divide and conquer, they reveled in it. It wasn’t personal, it was strictly business, and it wasn’t their fault they excelled at it, it isn’t their fault they were born into this. The only responsibility they had was to ensure that all this affluence they had no part in amassing stayed safely outside the reaches of normal, taxpaying proletariat.

Let’s face it: it’s not as though the five or six folks who actually flip the switches and decide who gets what (after, of course, they’ve had theirs) ever consented to this sudden, and by all accounts inexplicable, turn of events. They certainly didn’t plan it this way. And you can be certain they don’t condone it or in any way seek to keep it around if they can help it. But that’s the thing: they can’t help it. They never saw it coming. I definitely didn’t see it coming. I see it every time I look at Otis: who could possibly have predicted this? The guys that—if they were lucky—were going to be chain restaurant managers and counter-jockeys at Radio Shack suddenly had the keys to the kingdom, because they understood how the world-wide-web worked.

But I’m willing to bet some of the money I’m supposedly worth that these unsettled old sons of bitches are very interested in redirecting wealth back into the hoary hands of those used to handling it. How, they must stay awake during the day worrying, can this country continue to run right when so many regular people start getting involved? It happened before, in the 20’s, and if they had to eliminate alcohol for a few years then maybe it’s time to start confiscating computers.

Still, I can’t shake the suspicion that these visionaries are doing many of us a disservice by manufacturing this much money, for making it so easy. Everyone loves their job these days, and it’s for all the wrong reasons. It’s all about the money. The money this and the money that. You lose money to make money, you make money to make money, you take money to make money, you make up anything—to make money. Right now, as the new century sucks in its gut for the changing of the guard, unearned money hangs heavy in the air like encouraging ozone: a soft rain’s gonna fall eventually, inevitably, and everyone will wonder why they’re soaking wet and insolvent.

*taken from a work of fiction, written before it all happened to come true in 2008.

Filed Under: Politics Tagged With: bill hicks, GOP, Grover Norquist, Newt Gingrich, Republicans, Ronald Reagan, Thomas Dolby

Some Day A Real Rain Will Come: What Travis Bickle Can –And Cannot– Tell Us About Tucson

January 13, 2011 By Sean Murphy Leave a Comment

Voices In Our Heads

You talking to me?

It is the pivotal scene in Scorsese’s Taxi Driver and it remains one of the seminal moments in movie history. Not so much because of its improvisational nature, or the uncanny way Robert De Niro (playing the alienated and ultimately violent Travis Bickle) disappears into this character, managing to seem invisible and menacing all at once. Most important, this short scene echoes a question that all of us, to a certain extent, ask the world every day.

“Are you talking to me?” we ask, and the tone may be inquisitive, rhetorical or defiant. It may be those and many other things. Mostly, as we interact in a mechanized, sped-up and increasingly unreal reality, we want to make sure people know we are there. We use our voices, our eyes, our frowns or smiles, our horns, our phones, our e-mail, our clothes and a thousand unspoken thoughts to affirm that our presence does not go entirely unnoticed.

In a way, it was easier a few decades ago, around the time Taxi Driver (1976) was released. There was no Internet, no texting, no cell phones, no cable TV, no electronic anything. If you needed to reach out and touch someone, you had to do just that. It’s possible that with the proliferation of devices and toys, in our information-overload moment (which, as it relates to art, content and information, is definitely not a negative thing), we are lonelier than ever before. This ground has been well-covered and there are compelling arguments on either side. On one hand, it can be conjectured that by remaining indoors, behind a glowing screen, we’ve effectively cut ourselves off from old-fashioned interaction and our communication—however ceaseless—lacks intimacy and engagement. On the other hand, people who in another era (including this one) may be best described as socially awkward (due to a variety of societal and self-imposed factors) have myriad opportunities to connect that simply did not exist even ten-to-fifteen years ago.

And the above observations almost entirely relate to action as opposed to reaction. It’s difficult to accurately gauge precisely how a constant bombardment of content, opinions and steadily louder voices is affecting our perception. Not too long ago it was a common joke to talk about (either in celebratory or castigating tones) how we had one hundred channels to choose from via cable TV. Now we have hundreds of channels, as well as streaming video, social media, blogs, and a dedicated website for every news channel, program and talking head in the world. And all of these voices are trying to tell, or sell, us something. Always urgently, never off message, constantly competing with all the other noise to get inside our heads and influence our opinions in one way or another.

Who Owns The American Dream?

You’re in a hell, and you’re gonna’ die in a hell like the rest of them.

It was horrifying enough when we had Travis Bickle types who, for their various reasons, sought violent ends to make some type of statement or try and quell that voice screeching non-stop in their ears, like a demented wasps’ nest. Taxi Driver, though wrongly or at least simplistically described by too many as the story of a psychopath, is very much a cautionary tale about what can happen when an alienated citizen has no one to talk to. The fact that it’s set in one of the busiest cities in the world is less ironic than tragic: anyone who has spent time in a bustling urban environment can confirm that it’s sometimes—if not often—the case that one can feel most alone when surrounded by millions of people who don’t know or care about them.

Loneliness, alienation and even violence are sufficiently commonplace as to be unremarkable facets of American existence: watch the news or consider your own life story. This certainly holds true in any society, particularly our plugged in but often disconnected post-millennial era. It seems safe to suggest these conditions are most rampant and profound in the United States. There are countless reasons and/or symptoms, and they are rooted more in myth than reality. For instance, while America does not have the rigid and stratified class systems that still plague Europe, we do have a collective addiction to the white-washed fantasy also known as the American Dream.

Lest that sound like a facile dismissal of a very complicated and, in many ways useful illusion, there are undeniably certain aspects of the American Dream parable that are provable and worthwhile. The ceaseless influx of grateful immigrants is sufficient testament to the inherent promise of an ostensibly free society. The same promise luring men and women to illegally enter our country is the same impulse that served as a siren song for Irish, Italian and other immigration movements through the 19^th and 20^th centuries. And yet, this speaks to the dream of America itself more than what we call the American Dream. Being able to do something is altogether different from being able to do anything. Most of these immigrants (then, now) are obliged to work excruciating hours doing horrific work at woeful wages, and the only thing making it tolerable is that it is (usually) better than the alternative.

The proposition that any of us, regardless of who we are and whatever our initial station in life can, with the correct combination of industry, initiative and luck, ascend to a status of wealth festers as one of the more powerful, if poisonous fictions our country has produced. More, it is not merely promulgated but actively inculcated: history books and sentimental movies tend to tout the exceedingly rare rags-to-riches allegory while ignoring, denying or conveniently dismissing the typical reality, which is that the working poor are likely to remain exactly where they are. In fact, as we’ve seen in the last few decades, this is more—not less—the case in a political and cultural system that has steadily ensured that those who have more will get more, usually directly at the expense of those who have little.

This dichotomy between what we see on screens or inside magazines is not new, but commercials, ads and websites telling us how can be or who we should be are incalculably more prevalent and powerful in today’s world. Thus, the same types of alienating forces that the lonely, angry and outcast citizens have historically been subject to are alarmingly more intense in a 24/7 info-tainment unreality. Which brings us to the Republicans in general and the Tea Party in particular. The GOP has auto-piloted the Horatio Alger story to the extent that counties receiving the most federal aid will lash out most indignantly (if ignorantly) about the perils of “big government”. Indeed, generation after generation illustrates that those who benefit most from higher taxes (and who have the least likelihood of ascending to the upper tax brackets) are consistently fanatical about keeping taxes low for those who earn the most. There are an unfortunate number of tragedies we commit as Americans, but this is one of the more profound examples.

Someday A Real Rain Will Come…

Loneliness has followed me my whole life…there’s no escape. I’m God’s lonely man.

One of the more devastatingly poignant (or poignantly devastating) scenes in Taxi Driver occurs when Travis sits, silently in his apartment, watching the attractive and fashionable folks dancing on TV. Alone in his sweltering studio walk-up, the look on his face—at once longing, frustrated and confused—reveals the hastening recognition that he will never attain the easy, if superficial, security he sees on the screen. With subtlety and lack of sentimentality (the script is actually somewhat slight, which only underscores the astonishing work De Niro turns in), we see that Bickle is the ultimate loner, an underground entity who is as much insect as human, scurrying in and out of his pointless and preordained routine.

Add to this the fact that he is a veteran, perhaps the most overlooked, yet prescient touch of the film (flash forward thirty-plus years to see how we treat our soldiers when they return from the wars we ask them to fight; little coincidence that it’s the same party that salutes the flag most tearfully who are quickest to slash and burn the programs designed to provide physical—and especially mental—assistance). The result of these circumstances and lack of choices provide us, circa 1976, with a character sketch of someone who, if one thing leads to the next, might opt for a more sociopathic solution to his problems. Importantly, Bickle is not revealed as a man destined to snap; while he is far from blameless for his predicament, he is very much a casualty of the world (the real one and the manufactured one) that he can’t master but must exist in. Therefore when he decides “my whole life is pointed in one direction…there never has been any choice for me”, it is both a confession and a one-man verdict, his indictment against this world.

There is some irony, looking back on the candidate he turns his grim attention toward: Palantine, running under the campaign slogan “We Are The People”, seems to espouse a very optimistic (if clichéd) message. (Further irony in that this notion of a collective synergy only amplifies Bickle’s isolation.) Imagine all of these elements contributing to Bickle’s disintegration placed in the context of our contemporary culture, with venom being spewed 24/7 by charlatans and circus clowns like Beck, O’Riley and Palin. Imagine Travis Bickle watching Fox News each day. If you can, you may begin to see why the concern and loathing of the Tea Party movement had much more to do with what happened this week in Arizona and little to do with comically misspelled signs and morons telling the government to stay out of their Medicare.

Travis gets his guns after a frightening encounter in his cab (and having heard about the violence fellow drivers have suffered). Only after he feels himself finally out of options does he contemplate using his gun on an innocent person (and later, people). Even in 1976, this was sufficiently compelling commentary on the ease with which Americans get access to guns. Today, appallingly, gun laws are looser than ever (and—shocker!—one political party defends this madness with the same tenacity they bring to cutting taxes and eliminating federal aid programs) and instead of a lone madman with one round, we have the sickening spectacle of semi-automatic weapons. Flash forward to Columbine, Virginia Tech and Tucson.

It slowly comes into focus: it is easier, now, for more people (except perhaps the politicians and mainstream media, the two most culpable parties) to understand the calculus that made this weekend’s tragedy predictable and, perhaps, inevitable. There are and—as ass-covering TV talking heads remind us—always will be lunatics in our midst who will kill and maim others and there is little we can do (other than disarm them). That said, it is way too easy to suggest this was an ambivalent act with random victims: in the same state the cretinous Sarah Palin put gun-sights on in a map of “targets”. It’s not necessary to pile on Palin, no matter how much blood she has on her carefully manicured hands; it is every bit the supine and opportunistic media’s fault, since they have breathlessly provided this imbecile with a public platform every step of the way. Special disgust, certainly, must be reserved for the reprehensible propaganda machine at Fox News: that so many Americans receive their “information” (and/or marching orders) from these scavengers debases us all.

And so, while the GOP gleefully fed the ill-conceived ire of the Tea Party faithful, they continued to double down on the very things that have caused so many of these folks to feel genuine hardship. It would almost be comical, except for the immorality and the guns. If someone in a red (or blue) state wants to endorse candidates who blithely promise to increase the collective misery, one can only laugh—unless one can’t help but cry. But when we see these candidates urging “Second Amendment remedies”, we need not wring our hands and ask how we all share the blame. No, the bulk of the blame can easily be laid at the spit-shined shoes of the pied pipers leading these rats to the water’s edge. That, an older and/or more cynical observer might suggest, has always been the case. Except now these rats are packing heat and they don’t mind taking out as many of us as they can, smiling as they do it.

Filed Under: Politics Tagged With: American Dream, Fox News, GOP, Robert Ne Niro, Sarah Palin, Taxi Driver, Travis Bickle, Tucson

Waterloo This

March 21, 2010 By Sean Murphy Leave a Comment

I love the smell of health care reform in the morning. Smells like victory.

Filed Under: Ruminations in Real Time Tagged With: Apocalypse Now, Bob Marley, GOP, Health Care, Health Care Reform, Obama, Revolution, Waterloo

The Hope of Audacity

January 29, 2010 By Sean Murphy 1 Comment

Question: How many GOP staffers are looking for new jobs after agreeing to let the cameras roll during Obama’s smackdown at the Republican Retreat Q&A today?

(Answer: hopefully, none; if by some miracle that embarrassment was deemed in any way a success by the simpletons running the show in the not-so-big GOP tent, we should look forward to many more of these, like twice a day if possible.)

First off, let’s pause and consider something: can you imagine, under any circumstances, not only Bush alone (ha) but even if he had, say, Cheney and Rumsfeld and Rove with him, ever appearing before cameras to answer direct questions in an unequivocally partisan environment? Please. And don’t get me wrong: I’m not wishing he had; dude humiliated himself just reading off of cue cards (or having answers directly piped to him during debates). Can you fathom the further levels of disgrace he would have brought upon the nation while endeavoring, under the hot lights and flashing digi-cams, to address unscreened queries from a hostile crowd? Of course I kid myself: he probably would have repelled into the auditorium sporting a flight suit and right-wing radio/Fox News masters of unreality would have declared it a TKO.

The fact that Obama would do it is beyond impressive; the fact that he can do it (and win, convincingly) is remarkable, illustrative and should give Democrats hope. We did not elect an idiot; we did not elect an empty suit. To watch him, in real time, wrangling with them, and (a la the undramatic eviscerations of McCain in the debates) calmly, methodically defusing them, without raising his voice, breaking a sweat or personally attacking, is to remember why people were overcome with the H-word (Hope) a year or so ago. It is like Reagan with Carter’s intelligence. Or Clinton without the smarm. Only more so.

This addresses the one tactical error I’ve complained about since last spring (!): Obama needed to be doing exactly this, then. About health care, about jobs, about any and everything, since at least early summer. That he’s only doing it now, after extreme circumstances, is unfortunate –and he and the party have paid a considerable price for it. But better late than never. Literally. And hopefully the feckless, spineless and mostly useless Democratic senate can take notes and learn a lesson or two. Their inertia has been worse than unacceptable (it has not done nothing; it has enervated and resucitated the braindead and tone-deaf Republican party), but to be fair, Obama’s virtual disappearing act from the public stage has not helped matters. Obama’s performance today is hopefully the salt spray required to move those slugs out from under their stones. Speaking of stones, maybe more than a few of them can grow some.

More of this, much more of this needs to occur as often and visibly as possible, effective immediately. Unfortunately, I don’t suspect the Republicans will make the same mistake a second time. That is, being seen in real time on camera trying to engage with Obama, and being shown –in color and without spin– having their collective asses handed to them on intellectual, moral and factual grounds. It is exhilarating, if lamentably overdue. And it’s up to the people with the majority (the majority of votes, the majority of ideas, and the majority of consent) to at long last begin bringing the fight to the party whose only goal is to accomplish nothing.

Filed Under: Politics Tagged With: Bad Brains, GOP, Obama, Reignition, Republican Retreat, Smackdown

Dead Man Walking

March 13, 2009 By Sean Murphy 1 Comment

Abortion is a woman’s choice?

Homsexuality is not a choice?

What on earth is a high profile Republican doing make comments like this, in public?

There is absolutely no place on the GOP platform for truth, so by the immutabe illogic that always must hold sway amongst Republicans, Steele is not long for this post. The only question is whether he will fall on his sword, or if, suddenly, his spurious financial dealings start receiving some scrutiny from the inside. Either way, only one thing was obvious the second his remarks found print: it’s only a matter of time.

It’s almost enough to make you feel sorry for Steele.

Almost.

But he’s such a self-aggrandizing, opportunistic buffoon, it’s simply out of the question to pity this fool. Unless you are a True Believer (and I often wonder how many folks at the top of the GOP power pyramid really do believe half the shit they spew), it must seem like walking a straight line directly beside hot coals: eyes ahead, unblinkingly striding forward; always on point, forever on message. The second you hesitate (or, worse, think), you’re going to stumble into the heat. And that heat is stoked from inside and out, so there is simply no way you will avoid getting burned. If the blowback is not immediate and intense, people will notice that the coals are glowing through the electricity of talking points. Not natural, but fake; a show, a sham. Everyone playing the game is perfectly aware of this. And that is why it’s impossible to feel a modicum of sorrow for any of these suckers when they invoke the ire of their masters, even if it’s for making the inconceivable error of actually uttering the truth.

Filed Under: Politics Tagged With: Animals, GOP, Michael Steele, Pigs, pink floyd

Beyond Good and Evil or, The God that Failed

February 4, 2009 By Sean Murphy 3 Comments

Millard Fuller, the founder of Habitat for Humanity, has passed away. Obit from Washington Post here.

His story, self-made millionaire who gives away his money to the needy and actually dedicates his days to helping those who need the most help, is atypical in the best of times; during our ongoing economic clusterfuck, it seems almost quaint. Unfashionable, old-fashioned beneficence, an actual Good Samaritan. More on that in a moment. It speaks volumes, and captures his import in an impressively succinct manner, that no less a man than Jimmy Carter was galvanized by Fuller’s call to arms.

“(He was) one of the most extraordinary people I have ever known. He used his remarkable gifts as an entrepreneur for the benefit of millions of needy people around the world by providing them with decent housing,” Carter said. “As the founder of Habitat for Humanity and later the Fuller Center, he was an inspiration to me, other members of our family and an untold number of volunteers who worked side-by-side under his leadership.”

How unbelievably redemptory, and refreshing, to see a person who put his money (and his time) where his faith was. In our lamentably soporific times, both intellectually and spiritually, where actual debates among so called Christians rage about putting the “Christ” back in “Christmas”, it’s unique to see a man of action (and means) more concerned with putting the “Christ” back in “Christian”.

Needless to say, all that golden-rule claptrap is antithetical to a more muscular version of the American dream. In this testosterone-laden mythology, Christ is a Capitalist (of course), and He wants us to be wealthy and strong. You know, just like he described it in the New Testament. This incarnation of Christ has a new generation of apostles (mostly born again and Fundy types, no longer a minority of the lunatic fringe) bristling against the ways in which nerdy do-gooders have turned their Savior into a sissy, a bleeding-heart liberal. Heck, you might even say Christ was a Socialist. If it wasn’t for all that inconvenient evidence to the contrary (again, that annoying New Testament), it might be easier to make a case for Christ as a Conservative (along with Holy Ghost Ronald Reagan seated, to the right, by his side). These are the patriarchal patriots who helped nudge Bush over the top in ’04, on a buffalo wing and a prayer. It did seem like the world had turned upside down to see these people who gained the least from small tent Republican politics clamoring the loudest to sustain the status quo.

Of course, the tide has turned. Obama’s election is actually, if possible, less a paradigm shift than the collective noise that millions of Americans are making as the scales fall from their eyes. It’s not a joyful noise, either, as they finally confront the inescapable fact that the most powerful and wealthy polo players of the apocalypse have been sticking it to them hard and fast, for a very long time. Same as it ever was, of course, and that is old news; that is why we have super heroes and Democrats to occasionally stem the tide of immoral sewage. But the Bush administration, as we are seeing all too clearly now (a tad too late, as always), dusted off the Reagan Revolution’s depraved tri-fecta (that government is the root of evil, that the free market is an immaculate arbiter of fortune, literally and figuratively, and that regulation is antithetical to a thriving infrastructure) and took off the training wheels. Funny how a formula combining incompetence, cronyism and unadulterated cupidity can devastate a nation’s surplus, safety and goodwill so quickly. And completely.

Incredibly, we saw some of the seeds of this sordid ideology bearing rotten fruit during the last eight years, but only now are we really getting a taste of the shit sandwich. It would be amusing if it were not so all-encompassing; it would be wonderful if it merely served as the overdue epitaph for avaricious gremlins like Grover Norquist and his gluttonous cadre. The no-taxation swine-mongers had their time at the teat, and they sucked on it without shame or a second thought. Now, the entire facade has collapsed, which is unfortunate for them, but it’s taking good people down with it. Tons and tons of them. The joke is on us, apparently. Which is what makes the notion of these bank bail-outs so discomfiting, especially as we know that (as usual) the richest of the rich saw this coming and made certain those golden parachutes were appropriately packed. It’s also what makes the spectacle of these CEOs whining about their divine right to ten million dollar bonuses so infuriating. It would almost be enjoyable to see people reaching for their pitchforks.

Thomas Frank targets the obscene Wall Street bonuses that are currently the tipping point of (egregiously overdue) public populist outrage. He also brilliantly encapsulates the outmoded and always unsustainable faith in the forces of the market to regulate itself and create jobs, spread wealth, and keep America strong, forever and ever Amen. His piece in today’s WSJ is here.

The god that failed is the god that never lived in the first place: the god of greed. Actually, that is not accurate: the god did not fail, its unholy spirit succeeded most spectacularly. Make no mistake, the rich did get richer. A lot richer. The CEOs may not actually be able to wipe their asses with hundred dollar bills anymore, but they aren’t going to be missing any meals. Props to them for pulling off a perverse Ponzi scheme where its transparently predictable default ends up indebting the populace who never profited from it. Surprise! The only people really losing everything are the folks who had too little to lose in the first place.

For this reason alone, it’s a minor miracle that a Democrat is in charge right now. But real progressives should brace themselves and be prepared for some disillusionment: this election was not a coronation, it was a correction. To be certain, it’s infinitely better than the alternative, but change (even a great deal of it) isn’t going to magically create lost jobs or replenish peoples’ 401k accounts. Obama might not be able to put enough fingers in the dyke, but at least his presence is preventing a full-on, Armageddon style meltdown. That was only the first step, but it is the most important one. And if you don’t think McCain, who had Phil “America is a nation of whiners” Gramm as his senior adviser, would at this very moment be driving us deeper into the ditch, I have some Lehman Bros stock I’d like to sell you.

Filed Under: Politics, Ruminations in Real Time Tagged With: Bob Marley, GOP, Grover Norquist, Jesus Christ, Millard Fuller, New Testament, Obama, Thomas Frank, Wall Street

Send in the clowns

February 3, 2009 By Sean Murphy 1 Comment

What happens when you’ve jumped the shark and thrown up everything and the kitchen sink? Call a plumber, of course.

Joe the Plumber advises GOP-ers. No, really.

The more I look at that picture, above, the more perfect it is. I mean, yeah, on the metaphorical level it does the trick. But look closer: you’ve got the elephants, you’ve got the scantily clad babe (hey, I think Sarah Palin could use a little more exposure), and you’ve got the cheesy side of the road car crash spectacle thing going. In short, you’ve got the official declaration that the Grand Old Party is so officially out of ideas, so utterly bankrupt both intelletually and spiritually, so…embarrassing, that perhaps actually incorporating animal acts and death-defying stunts into their next convention might be an improvement. If it’s gonna be a circus have it be a circus. It can’t get much worse than Joe the fucking Plumber. Then again, Palin/Plumber 2012: that could be just the right ticket for an extended hiatus for this assembly of idiots and buffoons.

Filed Under: Ruminations in Real Time Tagged With: Circus, GOP, Joe the Plumber, Palin