Wednesday, November 19, 2008

As Ever Only Otherwise

Helicopters hovered over my frozen street this morning, stirring the standard anxiety. Whirlybirds give me the creeps, and not in a militia-black-helicopter-fear sense, though there's always a trace of that. They're usually police or military choppers, and I always wonder what the hell they're looking for. Helicopters can land pretty much anywhere in a matter of minutes, giving their air surveillance added menace. Of course, they have no reason to swoop down around here. We're all perfectly safe consumers, doing our part to keep this nation moving, or stumbling, as the case may be. No threats on this block. Still, the flying presence of the state irritates my libertarian nerve endings. Not that I need much to be irritated.

What does this all mean? How should I know? I only type what my brain feeds my fingers. I'm supposed to understand it as well? If there was a paycheck attached, then okay. But I must perform other tasks to get paid. Writing merely fills time between grunt jobs, and given the local economy, I should be happy to have those.

But who's really happy these days, apart from the Obamas and their cronies? The meth high enjoyed by liberals appears to be waning, as the Obama administration prepares to perform its institutional function. Hillary as Secretary of State? Oh man, that's just perfect. And why not? Obama's surrounding himself with numerous Clintonite retreads, so it makes sense to bring an actual Clinton aboard. How else do you deal with the political undead? Speaking of which -- Joe Lieberman? I can't stop laughing long enough to parse that "fuck you" to libs, who'll swallow it as they usually do, finding some agreeable flavor in the shit they choose to eat.

It's just been announced that Eric Holder, yet another Clintonite, has accepted the Attorney General gig. Beautiful. A corporate lawyer who, among other things, worked for Chiquita Brands International Inc., helping that company deal with some negative backlash from its involvement with Colombian right-wing paramilitary forces.

How does that old Bowie classic g-g-go again?

I'd planned to finish my little tale about Rick and Kyle, the Beltway wonks who use Obama's victory as an opening to chase black women. When we last left the boys, they were escorting Chanel, a Serena Williams-type, back to her apartment for what they hoped would be a night of interracial ecstasy. Instead, it becomes a Clockwork Orange scenario, replete with rape, beatings, extensive humiliation, and near-death. Yet in the end, our liberal heroes learn a few things about power relationships, not only preparing them for life at a higher professional level, but taking them to violent sexual areas they never knew existed, and wish to further explore.

Problem is, the post got away from me. This rarely happens, but when it does, I know better than to wrestle it into this space. The narrative became so graphic, so unbelievably vile, that I erased the whole thing and had a drink. What humor existed got mashed by ugly depictions of human depravity, each bit bleeding into the next until I was drowning in Guignol not so Grand. It was quite something. Sorry you had to miss it.

My insane attempt to satirize the early hours of Obama Time led to a dream where the anointed one appeared to me. It was very vivid, with Obama, sitting outside on stone steps, white shirtsleeves rolled up, necktie loosened, shook his head at my opposition to his coming rule. He flashed that smile, asking me what I was so angry about. I tried to answer, but was overwhelmed by his presence. He emitted a weird warmth that felt phony yet comforting. Obama then proposed that I write for him.

"You serious?"

"Sure. You wrote for Nader, right? I could use that kind of material."

"Sorry, Mr. President, but I don't think you want someone like me on your staff."

"Why not?"

"Well, look at my published work. My God, the press and the Republicans would crucify you!"

"Naw. They're too busy kissing my ass. Besides, you wouldn't work directly for me. You'd answer to Rahm."

I awoke in panic, barely able to breathe. The helicopters had returned.

My review of the Smothers Brothers DVD set should be up either tomorrow or Friday, but to give you a quick taste, here's what I've been immersed in.