11.09.2004
Uh oh.
If Tuesday night's election results are any indication, 58,000,000 Americans think they either own Disney Land or will have the resources to buy one at some point in the next four years.
If you voted for the incumbent president [capitalization mine] Tuesday, you are either (a) reading this email from the holo-deck level of your Vector 9 Personal Flying Fortress whilst having money fights with the Hilton sisters, (b) wearing Velcro shoes, a bib, and your "magic" helmet, (c) comically trying to fix your time machine in order to get back to good ol' 1919, (d) one of the reanimated corpses Cheney keeps in Area 51 till election days, (e) a Nazi, or (f) convinced that your clever "What Would Jesus Do" license plate variation, WWJ-DEW, will get you preferential treatment when you ascend to the Kingdom of Heaven in a dove-drawn chariot, and certainly makes up for the time you caught yourself admiring the way Hank's Cotton Dockers hugged his special area.
And/Or you happen to live in Utah (almost 70% for W). For fun, try telling a friend that the company you work for is transferring you to Utah, and take a picture of their reaction. Now, tell a different friend that you just found out that you contracted genital herpes, and take another picture. Lastly, find a third friend and ask him/her to match each picture to its corresponding announcement. To do so is impossible.
To be fair, Oklahoma wasn't much better (66% pro-Dubya). Mind you, this is the last state in the union to encourage its elected Congressmen to engage in pork barrel politics by actually shipping genuine barrels of wieners from the District of Columbia to Tulsa by boxcar. Interesting fact: If you type "millionaire from Oklahoma" into Google, the first page that pops up is about an Eastern Oklahoma State College Phi Beta Lambda presentation entitled "Millionaire Square" which features, swear to God, a Monopoly tournament. Translation: Dear Oklahoma, George W. Bush could not possibly care less about you.
Can America really be this anti-intellectual (that means dumb)? I mean, I'm an idiot; I still pause whenever a broadcaster uses "auspicious" or "inauspicious" to describe the beginning of a sporting event in which one of the teams seriously screws something up. However, when I ask my brain to tinker with the notion of living in a country where more people trust an ex-alcoholic, ex-coke head, current-simpleton than a forthright public servant, my brain starts looking for an escape hatch. It's a dark day when, were someone to ask me who I'd rather have babysitting my kids, the Leader of the Free World or That Host From The Weakest Link, I'd answer "the latter" without any hesitation.
It's wholly embarrassing. The civilized world would SO be making fun of us if only our being morons didn't equate to the entire planet being, um, bent over. Diplomatically (and bad-allegorically) speaking, we've gone from class valedictorian to brash jock to that bully from fourth grade with the facial hair in a little over 200 years. No one likes us, and most of us don't blame them. Want to hear something really stupid, and by stupid I mean poignant for me? I used to get all misty watching reruns of the 1980 Miracle on Ice on ESPN Classic, and now, when I play sports video games that feature international tournaments, I refuse to play with the U.S. team. I just will not do it. Instead, I'm more likely to choose France and yell things like "Where are your Freedom Fries NOW, bitch?" with my best Pepe le Pew accent whenever I score upon the hapless American goaltender.
Here's a fun exercise intended to help you relate to the Republican mindset: rent a copy of "Hercules In New York" and promptly break into the nearest mansion to watch it. Before you do so, however, get out your checkbook and write yourself a check for a "Ka-jillion and NO/100's Dollars." Now, press PLAY on the movie and start beating yourself in the face with the business end of a meat tenderizer until you start to think that the guy playing "Arnold Strong" would make a good governor and you feel compelled to go cash that check in order to donate to his campaign. If you swear that you can see a reflection of the Virgin Mary in a window one of the buildings in the background, give yourself an extra point, then dial the paramedics.
I just can't quite figure it out. What's more, I'm a little concerned about living in New York now that we have four more years of a smug, fleetingly-coherent primate as our spokesman to the rest of the world. Of course, I'm assuming that I won't be drafted and, due to W's creative budget allocations, dropped off in Fallujah with nothing but a pack of Girl Scout Thin Mints, a Halliburton windbreaker, and a length of "sharpened" rope.
That being said, who's ready to move to Italy with me? Or wait! An island of some sort? I could buy a dinghy and giggle whenever anyone made even a casual reference to it. Let me know, because we need an exit strategy, and the only sand I want to see anytime soon is the kind that's underneath my flip flops and bordered by a big damn ocean.
Any takers?
nathan filibustered at 5:15:00 PM
|
Uh oh.
If Tuesday night's election results are any indication, 58,000,000 Americans think they either own Disney Land or will have the resources to buy one at some point in the next four years.
If you voted for the incumbent president [capitalization mine] Tuesday, you are either (a) reading this email from the holo-deck level of your Vector 9 Personal Flying Fortress whilst having money fights with the Hilton sisters, (b) wearing Velcro shoes, a bib, and your "magic" helmet, (c) comically trying to fix your time machine in order to get back to good ol' 1919, (d) one of the reanimated corpses Cheney keeps in Area 51 till election days, (e) a Nazi, or (f) convinced that your clever "What Would Jesus Do" license plate variation, WWJ-DEW, will get you preferential treatment when you ascend to the Kingdom of Heaven in a dove-drawn chariot, and certainly makes up for the time you caught yourself admiring the way Hank's Cotton Dockers hugged his special area.
And/Or you happen to live in Utah (almost 70% for W). For fun, try telling a friend that the company you work for is transferring you to Utah, and take a picture of their reaction. Now, tell a different friend that you just found out that you contracted genital herpes, and take another picture. Lastly, find a third friend and ask him/her to match each picture to its corresponding announcement. To do so is impossible.
To be fair, Oklahoma wasn't much better (66% pro-Dubya). Mind you, this is the last state in the union to encourage its elected Congressmen to engage in pork barrel politics by actually shipping genuine barrels of wieners from the District of Columbia to Tulsa by boxcar. Interesting fact: If you type "millionaire from Oklahoma" into Google, the first page that pops up is about an Eastern Oklahoma State College Phi Beta Lambda presentation entitled "Millionaire Square" which features, swear to God, a Monopoly tournament. Translation: Dear Oklahoma, George W. Bush could not possibly care less about you.
Can America really be this anti-intellectual (that means dumb)? I mean, I'm an idiot; I still pause whenever a broadcaster uses "auspicious" or "inauspicious" to describe the beginning of a sporting event in which one of the teams seriously screws something up. However, when I ask my brain to tinker with the notion of living in a country where more people trust an ex-alcoholic, ex-coke head, current-simpleton than a forthright public servant, my brain starts looking for an escape hatch. It's a dark day when, were someone to ask me who I'd rather have babysitting my kids, the Leader of the Free World or That Host From The Weakest Link, I'd answer "the latter" without any hesitation.
It's wholly embarrassing. The civilized world would SO be making fun of us if only our being morons didn't equate to the entire planet being, um, bent over. Diplomatically (and bad-allegorically) speaking, we've gone from class valedictorian to brash jock to that bully from fourth grade with the facial hair in a little over 200 years. No one likes us, and most of us don't blame them. Want to hear something really stupid, and by stupid I mean poignant for me? I used to get all misty watching reruns of the 1980 Miracle on Ice on ESPN Classic, and now, when I play sports video games that feature international tournaments, I refuse to play with the U.S. team. I just will not do it. Instead, I'm more likely to choose France and yell things like "Where are your Freedom Fries NOW, bitch?" with my best Pepe le Pew accent whenever I score upon the hapless American goaltender.
Here's a fun exercise intended to help you relate to the Republican mindset: rent a copy of "Hercules In New York" and promptly break into the nearest mansion to watch it. Before you do so, however, get out your checkbook and write yourself a check for a "Ka-jillion and NO/100's Dollars." Now, press PLAY on the movie and start beating yourself in the face with the business end of a meat tenderizer until you start to think that the guy playing "Arnold Strong" would make a good governor and you feel compelled to go cash that check in order to donate to his campaign. If you swear that you can see a reflection of the Virgin Mary in a window one of the buildings in the background, give yourself an extra point, then dial the paramedics.
I just can't quite figure it out. What's more, I'm a little concerned about living in New York now that we have four more years of a smug, fleetingly-coherent primate as our spokesman to the rest of the world. Of course, I'm assuming that I won't be drafted and, due to W's creative budget allocations, dropped off in Fallujah with nothing but a pack of Girl Scout Thin Mints, a Halliburton windbreaker, and a length of "sharpened" rope.
That being said, who's ready to move to Italy with me? Or wait! An island of some sort? I could buy a dinghy and giggle whenever anyone made even a casual reference to it. Let me know, because we need an exit strategy, and the only sand I want to see anytime soon is the kind that's underneath my flip flops and bordered by a big damn ocean.
Any takers?
nathan filibustered at 5:15:00 PM
at the podium.
name: ..nathan..
shoes: thin, uncomfortable
sleeping in: queens (the city, not Latifah)
mirror: :rorrim
throws: righty
current crush: young britt eckland
lunch: i'm into brunch now
cohorts.
=audio science=
=LL Robot=
=Hasser Vision=
=Seanbaby=
archives.
11.04 12.04 01.05 02.05 03.05 04.05 05.05 06.05 07.05 08.05 09.05 10.05 11.05 12.05 01.06 06.06 01.07
talk to me Goose.