No, listen to me, ugh, emphasis on the first syllable.
It’s the sound you make when you’ve unavoidably stepped yet again into something filthy and disgusting.
You stand there on one foot, holding an ankle, poking with a stick at the mess on the bottom of your shoe and you think, “Ugh! Goddamn, not this shit again.”
Yes, like that. Ugh.
As an American, little makes me soggy and hard to light like the thought of yet another eighteen endless months of poisoned foam, outrageous accusations, obnoxious bloviating, empty promises, bald faced lies, vicious stupidity, vacuous intellects, vainglorious hate mongering, hysterical doomsaying, enormously inflated egotism, jingoistic nationalism, Nazi tossing, terrorist juggling, staggering ignorance, shameless pandering, history washing, fact manipulating, abject graft, blatant corruption, self-righteous moralizing, shallow patriotism, drum beating, bugle blowing, baby kissing, glad handing, ass grabbing, crotch jiggling, money laundering, swift boating, intestinal parasites, cramps, gas, and bloating.
I am, of course, talking about yet another presidential election cycle.
Yes, exactly. Ugh! Goddamn, not this shit again.
Frankly, as an American, I’m about democracied out.
There’s an old saw that goes something like, “You know X would be a great place … if it wasn’t for all the X-ians!” Substitute whatever you like for X. The Greeks probably told this joke about Rome: you know Rome would be an awesome place – if it wasn’t for all those stupid Romans! Americans tell this joke about the French – and everybody else tells this joke about Americans. Me? Personally, I think Texas would be a great place… Heh, I’m just joshing you, Texas is actually a hot desolate godforsaken tumbleweed infested shithole, Texans belong there like pointy-toed sinners in Hell, but for the sake of the narrative, just go with me on this one (I’m kidding. Kidding. You know I love you, Texas, in your own special way). That’s sort of how I feel about democracy, it would be great if it wasn’t for all the stinkin’ democrats. Ditto the republic, love the place, except for the all the friggin’ republicans.
Man, nothing makes me long for the simplicity of our centuries lost monarchy like the American electoral process.
Yes, yes, I know. I know.
With a monarchy, sooner or later, you end up with a bunch of atrophied inbred weak-chinned parasitic dolts in goofy hats. I know. But, here’s the thing, with a monarchy, at least you don’t have to put up with this ever churning campaign bullshit. In a monarchy you know who the next goofy hat wearing drooler on throne is going to be. There’s no real question, there’s the Heir and there’s the Spare. The old guy dies, everybody gets out their goofy hat, there’s a big party, you crown the new guy and everybody else moves up a notch on the royal waiting list. There’s tea and some tasty scones. There’s politely restrained conversation. They adjourn to the pub. Everybody gets laid. Done. Life goes on pretty much as always. Simple. No surprises. No eighteen months of attack ads.
A republic? A democracy? Sure those sound good, in theory – let the people choose the best and brightest to lead them. No inbreeding, no giant hats (still seems to be plenty of drooling however).
Right. Much better.
But, man, sometimes it’s just so goddamned painful.
As an American, the beginning of the next election cycle thrills me about as much as a chronic case of infected rectum boils.
As a political writer, however, well, you know, I live for this shit.
Unfortunately, so far this pre-election season is pretty lame.
Frankly I was really hoping for some fun candidates. You know, a couple of genuinely crazy types, some religious extremists, and maybe one complete moron. I don't think it’s too much to ask for a few good sports, a couple of politicians willing to play along, willing to ham it up and clown around for our amusement. Take some pratfalls, that’s what I’m talking about. You never see those royals doing that, hell no you don’t. Monarchies have no sense of humor, it’s all dignity this and dignity that. Nothing is more undignified than democracy. Democracy is the clown shoes of political systems. Like when in the last election Dennis Kucinich suddenly blurted out his belief in UFO’s (space aliens are the glory-hole of blogging material) or when that sweet little old lady accidently repeated John McCain’s racist scaremongering to his face on live TV – honestly, I can watch that clip over and over, McCain’s facial expression is priceless, I’ve never seen anybody go so pale so fast (Wave off! Wave off! Abort landing!) or, you know, pretty much any time they turned the mic on Ron Paul (I swear, that crazy doddering old bastard and his kid remind me of Statler and Waldorf, the two obnoxious asshole Muppets who used to heckler Kermit and Company from the balcony. Seriously, John Boehner, Sam the Eagle? It’s just me, right?).
We had a hell of starting line-up last time around.
So far, this election season is a big fat zero.
Trump was beaten before he even got started. I mean, honestly, politics is the ultimate reality show, you’d think this guy would have the chops to hang. The hair, the birther bit, the goatshit crazy rhetoric, the fact that he is the spitting image of Rigel, the self-centered obnoxious Frog King from Farscape…
I mean, come on! Seriously I can’t tell you how pissed I am that Trump folded up early. I could have gotten a least a dozen great blog posts out of this guy – and probably another dozen shitty ones. If Trump was a chick, people would be calling him a cock-tease about now – they’d also be throwing up in their mouth over that mental image (hey, I’m not letting him go without a parting shot. You’re welcome).
Fast on the heels of the Trump disappointment (You know, you have to wonder how many times his ex-wives have used that exact phrase), the Huckleberry bows out. I can’t believe Hucklebone isn’t going to run. Goddamn it, that should be against the law. What the hell is a Presidential race without The Huckster? Hell, I could make an entire blog post doing nothing but mocking his name and it would have been hysterical (yes, I’m a child. I’d probably throw in a fart joke too, sue me). Birther, conspiracy nut, religious loon, bigot, what’s not to heart about Huckabee? He’s the blogging mother load!
So, anyway, what have we got so far?
Bah. Where’s the fun in Gingrich? (You know, you have to wonder how many times his ex-wives have used that exact phrase), I mean, sure I’ll do him, but it’s going to feel like work (You know you have to wonder how many times… OK, Ok, I’ll stop). Guess I’d better bookmark FactCheck.org.
Romney? Yeah, that will be loads of fun. How many Donny Osmond Hair jokes you think I can squeeze out of Romney? One? Two? Political Satire involving Mitt Romney is the internet equivalent of Dogs Barking Jingle Bells. It’s sort of funny once. Once. Then it just makes you want to punch small kittens in the face until their tiny skulls shatter.
Hey, I know, maybe Ralph Nader will run again! Because there’s nothing more fun than writing a pillory of Ralph Nader… unless it’s having the SEALs kick in your door and double-tap you in the forehead.
Now I know what you’re thinking: buck up, Jim, just wait until Palin declares her candidacy! Then we’ll have some blogging material, you betcha! There’ll be Russia jokes! Nazis! Death panels! Pregnant daughters! Guns! It’ll be glorious!
Can I be honest with you? Remember how when you saw Robin Williams for the first time and you laughed hysterically? But the second time you saw his manic insanity, you didn’t laugh quite so hard and after the show you realized he was mostly just babbling cocaine fueled gibberish? And the next time you saw him you didn’t laugh much at all and you just sort of wondered what the hell was wrong with that lunatic? And after a while when you heard somebody doing a lame-assed Mork impression you just wanted to reach into their throat and pull their intestines out through their nose? (Oh, right, that was just me. Sure). That’s where I am with Palin. I don’t ever want to hear some random lackwit on the street doing an impression of Tina Fey doing an impression of Palin again, ever. Every single time somebody leaves a comment on Stonekettle Station where they think they’re the first person to ask me if I can see Russia from my house makes me want to light an endangered species on fire and dance naked around the flames while toasting marshmallows. I don’t want to have to spend another eighteen months thinking up variations on “Caribou Barbie.” For me, the Palin tit is dry (Yeah, good luck getting that image out of your brain. Serves you right for bringing up Palin in the first place).
We need fresh meat.
Here’s a few suggestions:
Charlie Sheen. No really. Charlie Sheen. He’s looking for a job. He’s a legacy, his dad was already President! He’s an endless source of fresh material! Winning!
Levi Johnston. I love this kid. Sure he’s too young – but, hell, that isn’t even close to his most interesting disqualification. Plus, think of how much fun this would be. You know, really think about it. Huh? Huh?
Arnold Schwarzenegger. Yeah, yeah, he’s not a natural born citizen. Blah blah. So? Seriously? An Austrian body builder who became a popular actor turned Conservative governor of California estranged from the Kennedy family with an out of wedlock love child? For fuck sake, it’s perfect! My God, if he could work in a gay prostitute The Terminator could play the entire Republican line-up all by himself!
Politics, it’s great fun – except for all the politicians.
Now, watch where you step.