O, Bomb It On The Mountain
The chief and most annoying feature about Obama's nomination is how white liberals can't stop congratulating themselves for supporting an African-American for president. Even my pal Jon Schwarz got sucked in. "Good job, America!" Yeesh. That's your brain on an Ivy League education.
The other prominent, disgusting aspect about last night's event was CNN continually reminding us that Obama was accepting the Dem nomination 45 years to the day of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I Have A Dream" speech. Other than skin color, I really can't see much resemblance between the two. Obama the community activist is long dead. The guy is one step away from managing an aggressive empire. Not quite what King had in mind, I'm guessing.
"I have a dream, that one day, a man of African heritage will rise up from humble beginnings, and take the reins of imperial power, bombing and starving poor people he's never met in order appease those affluent few who made his ascent possible. I have a dream today!"
And don't think that Obama won't bomb poor people. Afghanistan is only the first target. Senator Change openly promised more aggression as liberals cheered his line about preparing for "future conflicts." I saw one bearded youth sporting a peace sign applauding Obama's martial rhetoric. What have I told you about liberals getting a whiff of blood?
"We're a better country than this," Obama assures us. Really? What movie has he been watching? All I saw last night was collective mania and delusion. The fact that a black man may lead the next phase of empire is genius, a beautiful cover. How long the con will last is anyone's guess. Obama still needs to get past McCain and a lot of suppressed white racism and fear before we'll find out.
Those who believe I get an erection from writing such "cynical" thoughts either don't know me or haven't seriously read my work. I'm saddened by all this bullshit. There's a younger man in me who wants to believe, but can't, not when the truth stares us right in the face. As I watched Obama majestically riff, sitting with my 12-year-old son, a part of me wanted to be proud, to share this historic moment with a boy who hasn't seen the kind of open racism that was casually expressed when I was his age. It would be so easy to do. Look at those faces in last night's crowd. They crave change so much, desire a different reality, that they simply gave themselves to Obama, gazing upon him as The One who will make it all better. The symbolism was powerful, no doubt about it. Then the camera would cut to Joe Biden, breaking the spell. I don't care how good Obama is on the stump, Biden's still a savage pig. God, what a dreadful human being.
I've repeatedly said that I want Obama to be elected so that liberals can show their true colors, and we can dispense with their supposed "antiwar" personas. That still holds. A McCain presidency will only delay what needs to opened and dealt with, to the degree that it can be dealt with. But watching Obama last night gave me another thought, that of driving American reactionaries even crazier, which will happen should the president be of color and have that last name. Obama in the White House will seriously fuck with their fat heads. Good. I can definitely live with that. Then I thought of my grandmother, Mickey Cannaday, about whom I wrote after she died a year ago this week:
"I last saw her just a few weeks ago, when I was in Indy for my father's wife's birthday bash. Not only was Mickey mentally alert, she went off on Bush, the war, how much she supported Barack Obama's campaign, and related topics. She was a New Deal Democrat, remained true to the faith, which rankled plenty of people on my mother's side, the majority of whom are pretty right wing. Mickey didn't care, and seemed to take great pleasure in reminding them how awful and criminally idiotic the Bush administration is. My grandmother and I didn't agree about everything, but I did respect her political passion, though I didn't have the heart to tell her that my next book is an attack (laff-filled!) on the Dems as a war party. Yet, somehow, I don't think she'd mind. Mickey was secure in her beliefs, and a brash little tome by her grandson would do little to shake her up."
I know Mickey would've beamed had she lived to see last night. That takes some of the sting away. Thanks, Grandma.