Thursday, July 3, 2008

But Does He Stay Crunchy In Milk?

You'd think that being a cultivated voice for imperial war and general anti-Muslim hate would be enough for Hitchens. After all, he's created a profitable niche for himself, the urbane reactionary whom domestic oafs can drool over and hold in awe, despite his hostility to sky god concepts and the power of prayer. But with his pseudo-waterboarding stunt, which Hitchens finally assures us is torture (in case you were on the fence), he risks losing that vital demographic, which is fine by me, yet should alarm him. I mean, if the David Hororwitzs and Michele Malkins tune him out, to whom will he bellow his coarse opinions? I'm sure Carol Blue gets more than her share as it is.

Perhaps the military will embrace him. He's certainly become enamored with the kids in camo, almost weirdly so. His straining heart skips a beat when a platoon marches by in formation, and you see an aging man who never wore a military uniform fantasize about the experience, seemingly sad that he missed out in his radical youth. But Hitch makes up for his wasted past, and appears determined to be that old fart in the basement Barcalounger, surrounded by Army or Marine kitsch, dozing off while the explosions from yet another History Channel war documentary rip across his plasma screen.

"The team who agreed to [semi-waterboard him] in the woods of North Carolina belong to a highly honorable group. This group regards itself as out on the front line in defense of a society that is too spoiled and too ungrateful to appreciate those solid, underpaid volunteers who guard us while we sleep. These heroes stay on the ramparts at all hours and in all weather, and if they make a mistake they may be arraigned in order to scratch some domestic political itch."

You tell 'em, Gramps! Fucking faggot civvies with their "laws" and related Islamocommie bullshit! What do they know about real sacrifice?

If Hitchens is truly serious about experiencing life on the business end of empire, we should arrange to break into his home in the middle of the night, force his family on the floor at gunpoint, yell at him in a language he does not speak, kick him a few times in the balls, hood him, and drag him off to a black site where the waterboarding isn't choreographed ahead of time (and no safety words -- he can save that for his dominatrix), with plenty of beatings, sleep deprivation, and sensory derangement mixed in (a long Waco-style audio tape would be a nice touch, complete with the screams of slaughtered rabbits). I'd say a good two to three weeks of this should suffice, and who knows, Hitchens might enjoy it. The DVD special edition box set of his ordeal (yours free with a year's subscription to Vanity Fair) would give his career added freakshow boost. And really, isn't that what it's all about?

If you want to read some non-psychotic takes on our existence, do check out the invaluable Chris Floyd, whose work of late has been outstanding. Chris does the heavy lifting that's necessary, and having done my share in the past, I know what a depressing grind that can be. So show him some love.

Also, if you haven't yet, read this heartbreaking post by my pal Barry Crimmins. It's a courageous piece, and Barry's humane conclusions will give you what hope remains for our squalid species. As I've long insisted, comedians are the most serious commentators -- the better ones, anyway.

"Savage Mules" is still selling strong. I honestly don't know what to say, except thank you (and to Jon and Barry for helping). We're only a week in. Let's keep the mule train rolling through the election cycle.