Wingnut rodeo.

Florida has voted, though not in such high numbers as primary season 2008. One wonders if people are getting tired of the new normal of multi-million dollar negative ad buys. Romney has his victory, much sought after, though the contest is obviously not over yet. Perhaps people are getting the sense that none of these creatures has a strong grasp of what is wrong with our economy and how to set it straight. Perhaps they are looking at the republicans and at Obama and thinking, who amongst this lot is going to do what needs to be done to pull the vast majority of Americans out of this ditch?

Mind you, I’m not a total agnostic on this. There is a difference between the parties. I wish it were a bigger difference, but there’s no point in denying that it’s there. Obama hasn’t done anywhere near what he would need to do to restart this economy and get it going in a more sustainable direction. I don’t know that he’s particularly inclined towards making any bold steps forward on that front – he’s Captain Cautious in that respect. I have a lot of problems with his policies pretty much across the board, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Romney, Gingrich, and Santorum represent a boatload more trouble for all of us than another four years of Obama would.

The simple fact is this: presidential elections always boil down to a choice between two people. It’s a zero-sum proposition. One of those two people is going to be president. Presidential elections, in my view, represent the smallest part of what an engaged citizen should do to move the country forward, but we ignore them at our own peril. If progressives, the unemployed, the poor, the overworked…. the 99% sit out this election, we essentially consign ourselves to a permanent Bush administration. Whatever the outcome of the current wingnut rodeo, I can assure you that the next republican presidency will be Bush III: The Vengeance, featuring denizens of an increasingly radicalized republican establishment and all your favorite neocons. It will be 2001 all over again.

Just remember: these are the people who drove us into the ditch. Whatever else we do – organize, occupy, push for change, or just complain loudly – we have to keep them out of the driver’s seat.

luv u,

jp

Moving to Ironia.

If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s people who arbitrarily find something to complain about. Especially when it involves pointless grousing about other people. I HATE PEOPLE LIKE THAT.

Right, you guessed it. I was being ironic just then. Some people do that for a living. Me? I’m ironic in my spare time. Actually, it’s not merely a matter of personal whim. We’ve just taken on a marketing consultant recommended by our somewhat lackluster label, Loathsome Prick Records. I would tell you her name, but she told me her name must never be spoken. In any case, she – I will call her “Noname” … which rhymes with Edamame in my tiny mind – is going to help us “position” Big Green in the international indie music marketplace. That’s something our label tells us we need to do, like, RIGHT NOW.

Okay, so… part of that new positioning is that we should start being more ironic. I know what you’re going to say, and I am appalled… APPALLED that you would even think of such a thing! No, really… I know that we’ve been living, breathing, writing, playing, singing, exemplifying irony for more than two decades now. I know that our entire first album, 2000 Years To Christmas, and its follow-up, International House, were both frantic fits of festering irony. Trouble is, from a marketing perspective, none of that counts. It’s more about being seen to be ironic. “Noname” is insistent that we apply at least half of each waking hour working on ostentatious displays of irony.

My response to that has been, well, typical for me. I put Marvin (my personal robot assistant) on the case. Never send a man to do what a personal robot assistant can do for him – that’s what I always say, without a hint of irony. I asked Mitch Macaphee to program some irony into his sorry ass, and Mitch obliged, punching numbers into his little hand-held remote, pointing it at Marvin and saying the magic words: Obey! Obey! Marvin wheeled out the door and into the streets of Little Falls, dodging shoppers on a mission to ironyland. Sure enough, when we went out to the grocery store for some day old bread, there was Marvin, in front of Magillicuddy’s Hardware, ringing a bell and wearing a Santa-style hat, an old paint bucket on the sidewalk in front of him. Was he raising money? God, no. He was demonstrating the absurdity of a world in which robots in Santa garb can panhandle out of season without even raising an eyebrow. In short, he was practicing… that’s right …. starts with an “i”.

Here’s something else that starts with an “i”: I’ve had it with this for the nonce. Noname be damned, I’m hitting the sack. (Or perhaps merely mocking those who do so in earnest. Who can say?)

Heading south.

The republican presidential candidates are in Florida now, throwing punches at one another, making threats, and shifting course on immigration issues so fast it might give GOP voters whiplash. Former Speaker of the House and Pillsbury Doughboy Newt Gingrich appears determined to hold on to his tenuous lead, traveling from one end of the state to the other to toss around wild promises. In Miami, it’s regime change for Cuba (hard to see how that could go wrong); on the “Space” coast, it’s permanent bases on the moon by the end of a second Gingrich term. (What he probably means is that, by the end of his second term, the surface of the earth will resemble that of the moon, so the base issue will take care of itself.) It takes an ego the size of Gingrich’s – grandiose I believe is the proper term – to present arguments for re-election when one’s first primary campaign has barely gotten off the ground.

Gingrich’s grandiosity is wasted on these polite debates, though, and he knows it. That’s why he’s complaining so bitterly. When he gets a good shot in – “puts Juan Williams in his place”, as some in South Carolina have described it – and the crowd starts to cheer, you can see him begin to inflate like the Michelin Man. It is a wondrous sight to behold. This business of tamping down the audience’s enthusiasm is just, well… deflating for a veteran bomb-thrower like Gingrich. Perhaps this will give the GOP’s favored candidate, Romney, the boost he needs to edge out his corpulent rival. Damned liberal media! Newt told us it was all their fault!! Ah, the favored narrative… always a winner.

I love this red meat about Castro. For chrissake, guys! This stuff reminds me of Howard Phillips and his big, menacing map of Red China and scary cartoons about the People’s Army taking over the Panama Canal. It’s astounding to me that the Castro-bashing still resonates in present-day Miami, but I suppose surveys don’t lie. In any case, you’ve got Romney and Gingrich both imagining a day when Castro is in the grave, speculating on which imaginary afterlife landscape he will inhabit – the cloudy, white, feathery (if vaguely defined) paradise, or the strangely earth-like hell for which we have many concrete descriptions (including a useful floorplan from Dante). They might think for five minutes about the hellscape they would be consigning Cubans to in the event of regime change; something resembling Guatemala, I imagine. Not a favorable comparison, frankly.

And now Gingrich wants to conquer the moon – regime change goes trans-lunar. Should be a good race.

luv u,

jp

Weird ass music since 1986