Honestly, I don’t know where to begin. Oh, how about here: I may have to stop watching television. Because every time it’s on, I become more and more convinced this country is a maggot-covered pustule on the ass of the goatse (Google with caution–not for weak stomachs) guy. Do you find that description disgusting? Good. I’d like to you know my pain.
The day usually begins at 6 AM (OK, 5:30, but who’s keeping track?) with Morning Joe, which lately seems to be even more village idioty than usual. That fact that the panel actually has serious discussions about whether a Richie Rich Robot with Magic Metal Underwear or a Walking Ham-Fart is a better person to lead our country is further proof that the MSM is no longer interested in actually reporting news or informing viewers. Basically what most MSM news-oriented shows have become is sports commentary. This is all a game to them. The fact that an oligarch or racist may become president is of no importance to the village idiots–they’re having fun. And, hey, I get that. Sometimes the meanie in me enjoys watching the clowns emerge from the clown cars, falling down and vomiting all over themselves. I mean, car wrecks are interesting; but clown car wrecks are spectacular.
But at some point I just ache for someone to blurt out that the Republican party is made up of crazy people, sociopaths and people with Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I mean, Newtie’s “Foodstamper, please!*” dogwhistles aren’t really dogwhistles. They’re more like dogscreams. Which either means A.) Newt is a racist or B.) is willing to exploit racist sentiment in his quest for power. How is this not causing everyone to have a Scanners-style meltdown?
The other night I was getting my fake-ass nails done, and the new there-is-no-godawful Erin Burnett show was on. The first issue discussed was the proposal of new taxes for millionaires. Because Erin Burnett is a dumb cow who–actually, really, YES–once argued that we should accept that some of our goods from China might be poisoned because they are affordable, I knew exactly where the discussion was going to go. It was one of those discussions where Point B had already been decided on and Point A was gonna get us there even if she had to wrestle it to the ground and kick it in the head and take a dump on its chest. Silly, middle-classers, don’t you know that even if we taxed the millionaires at 100% it still wouldn’t erase the debt?…which is a cute little trick, because it assumes that everyone believes that the debt is something that has be addressed right now or the universe will implode, babies will be gay-raped and Two and a Half Men will be cancelled. The one panelist who– gosh darnit– was “just doing the math” pointed out that the middle class was still our biggest resource for tax revenue. Should we tax the middle class more? Our sad, befuddled panelist JUST DIDN’T KNOW.
Oh, and then there’s South Carolina debate audience…to which I would like to write a very short open letter:
Dear South Carolina Republicans,
If it weren’t for Charleston–which is admittedly awesome and not just ‘cuz I was born there–I would be happy if you seceded. You are a bunch of classless neanderthals. Your behavior at the debates made me cringe, made me ashamed of our nation. Hooting and hollering as if you were at a high school pep rally while attending a presidential nominee debate is something that just isn’t done. Not in a civilized society. I know those racist dogwhistles got you all riled up, made your ears perk up, and your fur get all vertical…but you should have contained yourself. Save your vulgar displays of contempt for your fellow Americans for the next Secession Ball. And until then, kindly go FUCK YOURSELVES.
A Southern Belle You Don’t Want to Tangle With
*phrase from the brilliant aimai at alicublog. I tried to Google the comment and couldn’t find it.