It’s been a while since I’ve launched into a political post here at Ye Olde Terryblemyndes. It’s not because I’ve turned all yellabelly on you — it’s partly because, hey, I’ve just had my head buried under This Writer’s Life, but it’s mostly because… well, hell, I just don’t know what to say anymore.
When I try to think about healthcare or jobs or any of that, I feel like I’m reaching out into a fog, and instead of pulling back reasonable answers, I pull back a rabid dingo. And the dingo just keeps biting me and biting me until I’m so angry, bees explode out of my head. You’re all like, “Where’d those bees come from? Weren’t we just talking about a dingo?” And I’m all like, “I do not know. I can’t stop and think about it, because apparently my brain is made of bees.” Buzz, buzz.
Soon as I start peeling back the skin on America’s problems, I find nothing but maggots and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups wrappers. And a Justin Bieber CD. Who the hell is Justin Bieber, by the way? (Oh, it’s just Ellen Page! That silly girl, pretending to be a little boy.)
I cannot form coherent thoughts.
Only the red haze, sponsored by the brain bees and the bitey dingo.
I mean, let’s take a peek.
Members of the Grand Old Party are saying all manner of funny business, like how abortions are worse for the African-American community than a little tiny thing called “slavery,” or how recent snowfall is obviously evidence that climate change is a big effluent bucket of gopher diarrhea.
The Birthers. Remember those monkeyfuckers? Yeah, they’re still around, and somehow are gaining support. (Newest theory: Obama is a CIA mole!)
The craziest — or stupidest — people have the loudest voice: Palin, Beck, Limbaugh, the brain-diseased Tea Party members. So much so that suddenly Bill O’Reilly emerges as a voice of sanity, which proves we’re all double-stuffed with fucking doom.
Meanwhile, the Democrats can’t seem to affect much change at all. We get a sane president up in this neighborhood and it’s like all the lunatics and morons come pouring out of the boltholes and sockets and broken pipes, a tide of rats and roaches ready to nibble us all to death. And the Democrats — who have a majority — just climb up on chairs and make eeee! noises like little girls. (Holding up their skirts, skirts whose pockets are stuffed with money from special interests. Do skirts have pockets? I mean, some do, right? Ladies in the crowd, make some noise: skirt pockets? If not, man, you should get some. Pockets are great. You can keep anything in there. Gum. Lip balm. Voodoo dolls. A cube with a button on it that, when pressed, implodes all known galactic space. So on, so forth.)
The GOP keep saying, “No we won’t,” and Obama keeps saying “Yes we can!” when really he should be saying, “Yes we will.” And then he should hit nay-sayers with nunchuks. Whap! Whap! Fwaaa! Karate kick! Flamethrower!
Every week is another week of, “Man, I just can’t think about this.” The red haze, the angry dingo, the flock of bees. It won’t let me get my head around it. I feel like I’m slipping and sliding toward cynicism again; not a helpful place, and a place I’ve long-cautioned against.
Then it occurred to me what we’re all missing:
We’re missing the proper pop culture commentary. We don’t have the likes of a Bill Hicks anymore. Carlin up and died on us. I feel like comedy has clipped its own nuts off. I feel like nobody is out there really calling out the absurdity — well, okay, we have The Daily Show, but they’re a lone voice, and further, it’s easy to wave them off as a parody of news (even though you’ll probably hear more truth out of Jon Stewart than any pundit or talking head on CNN). We need more people to stand up. We need more incisive, biting commentary. Don’t look to SNL. They play it like the news plays it: even-handed and ultimately tepid. It’s like they feel they have to abide by some “equal time comedy rule.” And what happened to politically-charged, pissed-off music? Music that says something? Anybody? Crickets chirping? Tumbleweeds tumbling?
So, yeah. There you go. A rambling Saturday post explaining why I haven’t been offering up much political commentary: I just don’t have much to say. I can’t seem to crystallize my feelings (translation: my yawping rage and confusion) in a way that will inform and entertain. Every time I turn on the news or read a headline, I just think, “Dang, America. You so crazy, you make me want to kick a baby.”
And I, dear readers, am not a baby-kicker.
That should tell you how far I’ve been pushed.