politics


Listening to: “Another World” – Antony & the Johnsons

Greetings from the heart of the Northeastern Seaboard’s Neverending Blizzard ’08! It’s already put me on postpone for 2 plays this weekend–luckily rescheduling is set to occur. Can’t afford to miss out on writing assignments this month. You know that old carol “Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, etc. etc.”? Yeah, I’m the one who hasn’t got a ha’penny and needs some god-blessing.

Still, I think I’ll always have a Pavlovian joy response to snow days, even when I’ve got no work or school from which to play hooky. Last night Tuck and I holed up at Ryan and Rog’s and watched Mad Men and had Schnapps-spiked hot cocoa, while the snow piled up in drifts over Brookline. The mutt definitely digs the snow–sometimes it even makes him forget his debilitating fear of the Green Line–all old smells covered up, fluffy whiteness belly-high, and the whole world fresh and up for grabs. He leap-runs through deep snow in winter the same way he does through the tide in the summer when I bring him to the beach. I wonder what the beaches must look like now–totally surreal, no doubt. You never really see the image of snow falling on ocean waves.

Today out my bedroom window I saw a scrawny guy standing in a full Santa suit on the sidewalk, just chillin’. A girl walks up to him and–I shit you not–sticks her hand down his woolly red pants. And we’re talking deep–like, grab-the-dude’s-dick-and-flail-it-around-a-bit deep. Santa didn’t seem particularly aroused, but it was hard to read the eyes buried between the beard and hat. I’m telling you man, only in Allston.

Alright, time to go dig out the ol’ car so I can get to Cafenation and get some actual productive freaking writing done. I’ll leave you with an image of what I wish I were doing this fine, snowy evening:

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I have spent the past 24ish hours forcing myself to pay attention to the Republican National Convention, and being subsequently enraged, nauseated, and depressed by what I see. The speeches themselves (Giuliani should be excommunicated from New York City for that shit he tossed), the coverage, and worst of all, that sublimely ignorant grin on the face of America. But this article in the Herald really, really, takes the fucking cake:

SARAH PALIN MIGHT INSPIRE GALS TO TRESS FOR SUCCESS

Will the “Sarah Barracuda” beehive be the updo of the season?

The Republican vice presidential nominee wowed the crowd with her speech – and her hairstyle – Wednesday night, prompting fashion pundits to predict that the deconstructed coif will be the most requested look for fall.

“The half-up, half-down look is pretty current,” said stylist Mitch DeRosa, owner of Mitchell John Salon in Boston. “And I like the bangs to the side. I think yes, a lot of women are going to want the Palin look.”

Better yet, ladies can show their political preference by sweeping their bangs to the right or the left, DeRosa added.

Yes. Because that is what we should be concerned about. Sarah Palin’s up ‘do. Her violently pro-life stance? Her flat denial of the human role in global warming? Her lack of non-Alaskan experience? The fact that she wants to de-classify polar bears as an endangered species? The fact that the GOP brass aren’t letting the media talk to her cause then they’ll find out she doesn’t know shit? No no no, silly woolly-headed lefty. The hair is the real issue. Funny, I haven’t heard anything about Joe Biden’s fab tresses.

And women of America? Screw voting. Let’s leave that to the menfolk. We can broadcast our political views proudly with some well-placed bangs.

I suddenly wish I didn’t even have bangs.

Finally, here’s some dirty laundry-shaking from the fantastic Jon Stewart on the “Gender Card”:

…to describe what I think of the NeoCons.

John McCain’s latest (clairvoyant!) pronouncement:

“By January 2013, America has welcomed home most of the servicemen and women who have sacrificed terribly so that America might be secure in her freedom,’’ Mr. McCain said at the Columbus Convention Center. “The Iraq War has been won. Iraq is a functioning democracy, although still suffering from the lingering effects of decades of tyranny and centuries of sectarian tension. Violence still occurs, but it is spasmodic and much reduced.’’ The United States, Mr. McCain added, “maintains a military presence there, but a much smaller one, and it does not play a direct combat role.’’

Wow, that’s great, John. And by 2013, I shall have a pony-monkey-Care Bear hybrid who plays the piccolo, shits marijuana, and cleans my apartment for me.

Listening to: “All I Want is You” – Barry Louis Polisar

I hate politics. I don’t like having to pay attention to them, because it’s 95% sleight-of-hand and bullshit. It’s a bad, boring variety show put on by a bunch of egomaniacs mad for power.

Or, in the words of the ireppressable Douglas Adams: “Anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job.”

But with dear, aw-shucks Edwards out of the race, I’m not really sure who to vote for. Last primary around I was for Dean all the way. That guy is the tits. This time… I don’t know. I can’t seem to find a brief, unbiased account of where Hil and Barack each stand on the issues. This is the closest I could find. I mean, how can you compare and contrast properly when it’s all spin and rhetoric?

But who knows. What kind of universe is it anyway where the Pats can lose the Super Bowl? *Sigh*

Oh well, Tom Brady’s ass is still hotter than all the Giants’ asses put together.

I submitted my one-act play “Thanksgiving” to that playwriting conference in Alaska. I spent two days tweaking the hell out of it, since I wrote it two years ago. I’ll find out in March whether I get accepted. Fingers crossed, kids.

Last night I dreamt that they published “Thanksgiving” in this snazzy hardcover version without telling me. I didn’t know till I came to get it signed by the author and realized that I was supposed to be doing the signing. They had retooled it to be about Jesse James. I think they even called it “Jesse James,” even though it has nothing to do with Jesse James. I tried to tell them, but they said they made the changes for my own good and that I should be happy they took the time to fix it for me. Then they put on a production of it in the basement of a community center, with the entire cast in wheelchairs. It had nothing to do with the original story.

Gotta dig those anxiety dreams.

This post was really the opposite of cohesive.

Oooh, ooh. One more thing. Go see Juno. It is the best ever.

Hey y’all. Welcome to the other side of yesterday. Also known as: today.

So how about those New Hampshire debates? Saturday night found me huddled around my friend’s TV with at least 20 other people and at least 5 times as many beers, jeering at Huckabee and groaning at Hillary. Let me first say that I HATE politics. Violently so. I only pay attention when I absolutely have to, and a presidential election counts as having to. Dammit.

We made a little drinking game out of the Democrats’ debate. One swig for every time anyone said the word “change,” two swigs for “hope.” It was beyond absurd how many times they said “change.” Here’s the debate, in summation:

OBAMA: I would just like to say that I like change. Change change change.

HILLARY: Yeah, but you don’t like change half as much as I do.

EDWARDS: Bitch, please. I am for hardcore the changiest!

HILLARY: Oh yeah? Where does it say changiest on your record? Cause my record says it at least 4 jillion, if not 5 jillion, times.

HILLARY Unfolds a long ream of paper. Cut to CHELSEA in the audience, smiling angelically. Cut to RICHARDSON, on the verge of tears.

RICHARDSON: Can you guys shut up?

OBAMA: Hush, fat man in the corner. I need to further tell you how changey I am. Once, I changed this one thing SO HARD, it cried.

HILLARY: Oh really, Barack? Cause I could have sworn you changed your opinion on change. How can someone who keeps changing his mind be truly committed to change?

EDWARDS: That’s wicked petty, Hil. Petty, and anti-changey.

HILLARY: Oh, so now you’re taking his side?

EDWARDS: Hey, I’m just standing up for middle-class America.

OBAMA: (singing) Screw the middle classes! I will never accept them! My father’s other family were middle class, and we were kept out of sight, hidden from view, at his funeral…

HILLARY: This display of Lloyd-Webberizing is utterly uncalled for, Barack.

OBAMA: Only people who, like me, believe in change, can really understand Evita on a deeper level. Eva Paron? Changey! Barack Obama? Changey! (Bangs fists on podium) I think I’ve made my point.

RICHARDSON: Could we maybe, um, talk about the economy or something?

EDWARDS: Did anyone just hear a whisper on the wind?

HILLARY: Don’t be foolish, John. We’re indoors. Besides, we’re deviating from the subject at hand—that I, Hillary Clinton, am the changiest. For example—

She begins reading from the ream of paper, but is cut off by OBAMA and EDWARDS singing and dancing to David Bowie’s “Changes.” HILLARY joins in, but repeatedly and purposely stomps on OBAMA’s feet. RICHARDSON sighs heavily and buries his head in his hands.

BLACKOUT.

For a much more relevant take on the debates, check out Chris Faraone’s awesome coverage on the Weekly Dig‘s blog.

Oh, and one more thing: is it just me, or does Ron Paul look like Ian McKellen’s soulless evil twin? Check it out. Here’s Sir Ian:

And here’s Ron:

Those eyes. So black. *Shudders*