(By special guest pinch-blogger,
This writer is no Rude Pundit, but he knows a thing or two about Republican asshattery. In fact, that might be why the erstwhile Rude One left the keys to the blog before heading off for a weekend amid the damn dirty hippies: a weekend of billboard-sized sheets of acid, dancing to "Roxanne," singing those high notes like Eddie Murphy in 48 Hours, and then -- ah, yes, then -- engaging in anonymous, sticky, pleasurable activities in the sea of tents and grilled cheese sammiches, and not remembering shit. Here's hoping.
However, in terms of political engagement, this writer has been off the radar for a while. Like a lot of people, this writer turned off the television after the 2004 election, watched as the United States of Canada separated from Jesusland, and he said (while shaking his fists at the heavens -- you know, for effect), "Ah....motherfuckermotherfuckermotherfuckermotherfucker!"
Let's back up a bit.
In grad school, this writer took a job at the college paper and got all politically engaged and shit, like a lot of people, post-9/11, suddenly awake and aware and keen to issues, real issues -- not just the war, but other shit, too.
He wrote columns, and he swung hard. One of the highlights: He wrote a column defending homosexuals, and it might be the best thing he'll ever write.
Then he voted for Kerry, and we all know how that shit turned out.
Since then, this writer had to tune out, or face ulcers and ruined relationships and sleepless nights and pretty much everything else lefties have dealt with daily since, oh, November 2000-ish. And maybe this writer is a big pussy for not hanging tough, but that's how he ended up rolling.
He stopped reading the damn paper and getting pissed off every morning, and he thought this was good. He stopped allowing obtuse Republican views to enrage him on a daily basis, and he stopped having "spirited political discussions," which basically became code for "dealing with fucking douchebags who think all brown people are eeeeevil."
Once in a while, yes, while among like-minded people, the John of Old would surface, but only among friends who pretty much saw things the way he saw them, and if there was a conservative in our midst, well, we just laughed away our differences. Haha, motherfucker, let's agree to disagree. Hardeharhar.
But this mingling was rare. This writer knew the dangers of too much engagement when the 2008 election was so far away. This writer had made himself fucking miserable, playing pundit, and had to knock that shit off.
Miserable? Man, that's no fucking way to live. This writer didn't want to be the guy who woke up every morning and cussed the newspaper, bashed the television, kicked the dog. For others, this is normal and fine. For this writer, lacking such iron constitution, not so much.
But ya know, that was then. This writer can't just ignore shit now. Barack Obama and/or Hillary Clinton might be the real deal. A woman or a black dude for president? Holy fucking shit.
And maybe this writer is on crack, and maybe the left's best bet is neither of the above, but maybe someone else.
Whatever the case, it's worth risking enragement to watch. It's something different.
It's hope, and that's a way to live.
If you dug the pinch-blogging, pop over to King's Eye Land. If you're one of those who just wants to argue, don't bother. I'm like Stalin with people who disagree. You'll be disappeared in the night and end up in my basement, ball-gagged and ready for the badgers.
Your regularly scheduled rudeness will return next week. 'Til then, check out Rude at Bonnaroo and prepare for the zombie holocaust.
