A Rational Animal

I haven’t had the [dis]pleasure of seeing this ad on TV yet, despite the fact the McMaverick chose my state (WTF?) to launch it.  However, all the coverage of it that I’ve seen thus far focuses only on the redundant ineptness of the wording - missing the real point.  The ad’s closer:

"John McCain: The American president Americans have been waiting for."

It neglected to add:

"This slander brought to you courtesy of the StraitJacket Express^TM." 

There.  Fixed. 

Seriously, here we have the first preview of what September will look like.  Forget the swiping (OMG, plagiarizing!) of Obama’s "we are the ones we’ve been waiting for" sentiment.  They key here is the racist, nationalist dog-whistle - one which, I guarantee you, will come through loud and clear to a large percentage of this state’s population:

"The American president . . . ."

Because, you know, that angry Negro with the funny name and the (ZOMG, Muslim!!!one!!eleven!!!) father from someplace in darkest Africa - well, we all know he’s not a Real American.  After all, he’s African!  (And black!)  And Muslim!  (And black!)  And miscegenated!  (And black!)  And Muslim!  (And black!)  And with a crazy, racist, terrorist-loving Christian preacher!  (And black!)

Note also the use of the article:  "The American president," not "An American president."  Just in case, you know, you were inclined to give McMaverick the benefit of the doubt or anything.  Or, for the dog-whistle crowd, just in case you were thinking maybe he was including Obama in the pool of legitimate candidates.

No, to McMaverick, there’s only one legitimate candidate:  the white guy.  It doesn’t matter that he’s a hypocritical, ethically-challenged, bigoted, lunatic nut job - he’s white!  He’s "The American."

And a few more bearings fall out of the wheels as the StraitJacket Express^TM rolls on down the highway . . . . 

I wonder how long before it runs off the road, crashing into a public square and mowing down all the innocents in its path?  Of course, when it does, the media will be sure to bring us The Whole Story, complete with expert analysis about how the fact that McMaverick was tortured makes him a Great War Hero, and thus, all the dead pedestrians are simply martyrs to the noble cause of perpetuating that narrative.

A quick note on the yesterday’s media-related posts from Matt Stoller and Molly I:  They’re both partly right.  In different ways, they both miss the real point.

Referring to the testy exchange between McMaverick and Elizabeth Bumiller, Matt wonders why the sudden change in the coverage of McCain.  I should’ve thought the answer was obvious:  For Villager Media, anything St. McMaverick says goes - unless and until he makes One Of Their Own look bad.  And since he got snippy with One Of Their Own - a stenographer who’s prostituted herself so publicly in the service of Bush’s agenda - he must be disciplined.  Publicly.

You’re welcome. 

Molly I., on the other hand, simply didn’t take her argument to its logical conclusion.  [Disclaimer:  I read Molly I’s takedowns of MoDo religiously.  Hell, I read her takedowns of everyone religiously.]

Molly finally begins to suss out what’s really at work in MoDo’s "coverage" of Clinton and Obama:  It’s The Graduate all over again.  And she’s right.

Except . . . .

In MoDo World, Hillary is not Mrs. Robinson - MoDo herself is.  And that’s why, in MoDo World, Obama must be disciplined, too.  Good-looking younger guy - who the hell does he think he is, not recognizing that he must bow before the altar of MoDo?  I mean, really - wasting all those looks and all that charm and all that oratory on the great unwashed voting masses, when he should know that the first priority of every presidential candidate (and every male) should be to court MoDo’s own twisted affections and affectations.

You’re welcome. 

Links finally added, here.

Links added here. 

(Incidentally, amassing them subjected me to an exhausting trawl through the cobwebbed psychopathic corners of the Rethug mind.  I wonder whether the Obama campaign would be willing to pay for the therapy I’ll so obviously need after that . . . ?)

* 

. . . this was on the front page of the digital WaPo at 4:30 this morning.  (I guarantee you that it won’t still be there once Teh Villagers are up.)

This is why we have to vote.

This is why we have to fight.

This is why we have to impeach, convict, indict, hang.

* Photo of war crime victim by Andrea Bruce, The Washington Post 

 
Image copyright Steve Bates

Many thanks to the irrepressible and irreplaceable Steve Bates at the YDD for the links.  And while I’m at it, I want to return the favor:  Steve’s post, "What Edwards Accomplished," underscores some important points that I failed to make about the role that Edwards has played in this primary.  As he notes, we owe Edwards a debt of gratitude for (among many other things) making the subjects of this campaign relevant to ordinary folks. 

That’s one too-seldom-recognized element of the GOP’s success:  It couches its corporatist, expansionist, fundamentalist agendas in faux-populist rhetoric to persuade voters that it really is watching out for the little guy.  Of course, nothing could be further from the truth, but the Rethugs have been veritable geniuses at it.  And so racism becomes about "illegal immigration," which morphs magically into "protecting jobs," and criminal lawbreaking becomes about "catching terrorists," which transmogrifies into "protecting children," and so on and so forth down the slippery slope to authoritarian hell.

What Edwards has managed to do - and this is one of the reason Teh Villagers hate him so for being so "angry" - is to turn the GOP’s bullshit rhetoric inside-out (or rather, to take rhetoric that’s already inside-out and turn it back to reality), by breaking down the establishment agenda into terms that are relevant to ordinary people’s lives.  Doing so has shown average voters that, in fact, voting Rethug is not in their own self-interest, long-term or otherwise.

And I still say, vote Edwards.  It’s time to hold his delegates hostage until we extract some real action from the eventual nominee. 

[Ed. note:  Very short on time today; I promise a real post tomorrow.  For now, read someone who GETS IT.]

For my money (okay, not for my money, since I wouldn’t pay a red cent any more for Len Downie’s rag, but still . . .), there are exactly three journalists at WaPo:  Froomkin, Priest, and Robinson.  Note that I did not say "three decent journalists," or any such variation; I said "three journalists," period.  The rest are stenographers, at best (and that’s only by giving them an unholy benefit of the doubt, something I don’t for a moment).

Anyway, as the post-Iowa wankery continues unabated in most quarters, it’s refreshing to read someone like Gene.  HE GETS IT.  The rest of you out whores out there, take note.

For openers:

I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: People in Washington really should get out more.

To which, of course, we normal folks are tempted to say, "No shit."  Or maybe I mean "Amen."  Or something.  Let’s go with "No shit," since it’ll get Broderella’s knickers in a twist.

Gene rightly points out that Teh Villagers need not actually live inside Teh Beltway - in fact, I’d say it’s a good bet most of them don’t, even those who work inside it.  Too many scary brown people, doncha know.  Much safer in Alexandria, or Takoma Park, or some other nice white area.  But in the words of the man himself:

By "Washington," I mean not just the city but the state of mind, and by "get out," I mean spend time surrounded not just by a different geography but by a different demography as well. If we did, the high-blown debates we have here — and by "we," I mean politicians, lobbyists, advocates, bureaucrats, scholars, journalists and all the rest trapped in the Washington echo chamber — might bear more relation to what people who live outside our bubble think of as reality.

He offers reactions to the Bhutto assassination as Exhibit A, but Exhibit B is what really curls my toes:

In Washington, it is conventionally wise to think of government gridlock as basically a good thing, even something that most Americans approve of. To have a president from one party and a Congress controlled — or at least reined in — by the other, we tell ourselves, prevents too-abrupt shifts in policy. Gridlock is supposed to force bipartisan consensus, which is held as a kind of Holy Grail, the only way to tackle the nation’s biggest problems.

But tell that to Iowans — or residents of most states, for that matter — who either don’t have health insurance or can’t get insurance companies to pay their medical bills. Tell it to Arizonans who have pressed their state government to implement its own immigration policy — shouldering what is clearly a federal responsibility — because Washington can’t get its act together. Tell it to military families, some in favor of the war in Iraq and some against, whose lives have been turned upside down by extended deployments with no end in sight.

Oh, yes, yes, YES!!!!!  Sing it, baby!

But from the conversations I had with Iowans, it seemed clear to me that change is also shorthand for the disconnect between the Washington state of mind and the widespread expectation, hardly unreasonable, that this city ought to actually get something done every once in a while.

Whether it gets done after a bare-knuckle brawl or a chorus of "Kumbaya" really doesn’t matter.

Exactly.  And Villagers, lemme tell ya, fuck "Kumbaya."  We want the bare-knuckled brawl.  Because it’s the only way we’ll actually get anything done - you know, that "anything" for which we pay you so handsomely.  Your precious bipartisanship accomplishes - what?  Illegal wars, health-care crises, housing meltdowns, planetary meltdowns . . . and you want us to thank you, while scuffing our toes and pleading in supplication, "Please, sir, may I have some more?"  Fuck you with cast-iron adjustable-rate mortgage.

Finally, Gene describes Teh Villagers thusly:

an alien invasion of know-it-alls from Washington who descended to examine the locals as if they were specimens in a laboratory.

He includes himself in that assessment, which I think is a bit of unnecessary self-criticism.  But his basic point is dead-on.  Because, you see, to Teh Villagers, we’re not actually people:  We’re just a nation of soggy socks waiting for the salvation of their own personal spin cycles. 

Well, I got news for ya:  Go knit your own damn socks for a change.  See what honest labor feels like - if, of course, the shock to your system doesn’t kill you.