The Republican Candidates and the Ghost of Bush’s Past

It’s funny – it’s pretty evident that George W. Bush will be remembered as one of the worst presidents this country has ever had, yet the current crop of Republican candidates can’t seem to help parroting the essential ideas that made his administration such a disaster. Despite the clear message of the voters We want change! the Republicans are stuck on a series a pre-fab talking points a la Rove, and can’t seem to stop repeating themselves.

I saw Mike Huckabee on television at a New Hampshire rally and he said the non-word "irregardless" twice in one sentence. Since "irregardless" is one of the cardinal and most obvious examples of ignorant speech I had to wonder if there wasn’t something purposeful in this gaffe. W won quite a few votes by being more like the average guy, the cowboy you’d like to go to a barbecue with, and obviously Huckabee is striving for a similar aw, shucks, I don’t go for no high falutin’ learnin’ vibe, which had already snookered a lot of people, including the erstwhile great indie thinker Michael Stipe. Don’t confuse the actor with the role, Mike, just because Huckabee’s better at playing rube than Fred Thompson. The rest of the speech was from the Bush play book too, early to middle Iraq period, often word for word. It was the old familiar trope about how freedom, like sunshine, comes from god, not government, and how Jesus really wants everybody to be in an American style democracy, which would happen only if mean old government would step out of the way. Of course, this divine intent emanating from the all powerful has remained remarkably obscure throughout most of human history, even during the period of greatest Christian power known as the dark ages. Similarly god’s desire for freedom for slaves was never fully articulated and it was, in fact, only the concerted acts of men and governments that have resulted in every ounce of freedom we know. And think about the Garden of Eden – wasn’t god really forbidding freedom for men in his desire to keep us all on the plantation? Much to the administration’s surprise when the government was eliminated in Iraq chaos, not freedom, resulted. What’s really clearly self-evident is that freedom does not come from god but man, and that it is protected and nurtured by the acts of government. Of course Bush in his endless quest for ever more Orwellian logic seems determined to destroy the freedom of the American citizen in order to save it, and that cute folksy old Mike would no doubt applaud.

The alleged sudden U-turn in god’s eternal plan in 1776 is reminiscent of the way the Mormon church has received divine telegrams at politically expedient moments, like the ones reversing his everlasting will concerning polygamy when Utah wanted to be a state or the one admitting blacks into the church when that was becoming a problem. He’s not supposed to change his mind is he? It’s ironic that Mitt Romney, who presents himself as the most logical and businesslike of the Republican candidates is a member of the wackiest branch of Christianity. It’s hard to remember, but George W. Bush also claimed that his administration was going to be run soundly, on the lines of the sacred American business corporation, institutions that only act for the public good and which should therefore be exempt from taxation or regulation. Mitt is also fond of trumpeting his corporate experience, but the government is NOT a business, and the public has come to have a less rosy view of big corporations than they did in the nineties, which may be why Mitt’s mess isn’t catching on.

Another thing George was always talking about in the beginning was how he was a leader who didn’t listen to polls and just led decisively and how proud he was of that, a view echoed by Fox news and the rest of his toady crowd. Of course the direction rather than the firmness of the leadership is what’s important, as became evident when W lead us so firmly and single mindedly over a cliff. The new favorite of the right wing corporate media toadies, Rudy Giuliani, also styles his greatest asset as his steely leadership, which trumps his lack of experience on a national level and his other unsavory personality flaws. His willingness to lead us into torture, lack of civil liberties and endless conflict make his resolve a lot less attractive, however. Real leaders don’t pat themselves on the back and blab about it endless either – they just lead.

And what about John McCain? What part of the Bush disaster has he been saddled with, despite his outsider image? One word, and it’s a hard one to swallow these days: IRAQ.

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The Morning After

morningafter
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Snow Fall

Snowfall

After lengthy discussion Pam agrees to come back to my hotel room, but only with the firm stipulation that what happens there is not going to be what usually happens between a man and a woman in a hotel room.

And, really, it’s because neither of us can bear to end our conversation, which has been extraordinarily vital and engaging – not a complete surprise – even when we were at loggerheads back in the day there was a weird, volatile chemistry between us. We always had something to say to each other, even if it was just volleying insults back and forth.

The change in location doesn’t seem to affect our rapport, and we go on talking, sitting there at the round hotel table in the uncomfortable hotel chairs, stopping every so often to raid the mini bar.

After a long time there’s a pause, and I realize that it’s gotten quite late and we’ve both drunk more than we intended to. I stand up to stretch out the stiffness and walk to the window.

Damn, look at that, I say. The snow which was just beginning to fall when we pulled in has continued furiously, and the lot is already covered in huge snowdrifts. Nobody is going anywhere tonight.

She comes up beside me and holds back the curtain. Wow.

I touch her arm and our eyes meet.

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Anglo Saxon Riddle

I lie in the gutter outside the house where once I was an honored guest.
What am I?
 
A Christmas tree….
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Snow Fall

The two things I don’t like about a big snowfall are cross country skis and snow blowers — or maybe just the self satisfied smirks on them that use them….
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The George Romero Scenario

It’s the George Romero scenario – all off a sudden there are zombies everywhere. I rack my twelve gauge and head over to Virginia’s house, blowing away the creatures I can’t avoid.

On the way it occurs to me that this is simply an especially literal example of what I’ve spent so much time and effort doing – trying to prevent her from becoming one of the living dead herd.

When I get there she’s just sitting and watching the madness out of her window, strangely blase about the whole thing. A group of her transformed jock friends make a concerted lurch for the house, but they’re fairly easy to beat back.

I turn to tell her that we’d better come up with another plan because I’m almost out of shells only to see the back door open as she walks away – now that they’ve taken over she wants to fit in and be a brain eating ghoul like everybody else.

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Fyodor Sologub

Here you are waiting for the Beautiful Lady, and you don’t know that her beauty is fatal. Two years you’ve lived in my room, and never before have you stared out the window in this way, lost in thought. Apparently your turn has come. Come away from the window before it is too late, don’t breath in the evil breath of these insidious flowers, and don’t wait for the Beautiful Lady to arrive under your window and enchant you. She will come, She will enchant you, and you will follow whither you’d not want to go.

Her bare arms were raised to the crown of black braids encircling her head, for just at that moment she was pinning a bright vermillion flower to her hair. Her thin, short tunic was fastened at her shoulders with a golden clasp. Her legs, lightly tanned and bare to the knee, were as shapely as the legs of a resurrected goddess. The youth’s heart began to pound, and forgetting all caution and modesty, he rushed back to the window and gazed greedily at the lovely vision. The Beautiful Lady threw a quick, fiery glance in his direction – her eyes flashed a dark blue from beneath black, even brows – and her smile was tender and arch.

But there were women among the pedestrians and riders, and their presence gave the picture a cryptic, anxious meaning. They were going about their errands and to all appearances were absolutely ordinary and unremarkable, but Pavel saw their strange and terrifying particularity: they were different, alien from the rest of the crowd and did not blend into it, but were like sparks in the midst of darkness. And everything was for them: the streets, houses and people, everything gravitated towards them, thirsted for them – without understanding them.

If there are happy people; if there are times when the mad sun of joyousness shines on them, carrying them off in a sweet whirl of ecstasy to undreamt of lands – then where are the words to tell about it? And if there is such a thing as truly bewitching beauty, how can one describe it?

 

– Fyodor Sologub

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quick time-out

markwish
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Illumination

It’s early – ten a.m. – driving in Heather’s station wagon, idly circling the lakes, half heartedly thinking about stopping at the pier, but then trying to follow a train, catching up to it here and there as it thunders overhead above the one way streets, the tape deck blasting Iggy and Van Morrison. Ellen’s been paranoid all morning, suspicious after the sight of a police car way back when, but Heather’s next to her in the front seat, still rolling slim, spare joints on the lined page of the notebook in her lap. Hey, Heather Ellen says, holding a burning number surreptitiously under the wheel. Write this down.

Huh, sure. Heather says, smoothing a clear place on the paper, dope debris and seeds cascading to the floor. Wait…hold on a minute. Where’s that pen? After much pocket and purse rifling it’s found on the seat between Heather’s legs. O.K., O.K., go ahead.

Watch it, Heather, you’re getting weed all over the place.

What’s the difference

Heather says, doodling spirals on the paper. It’s my car. Nobody cares.

Well, the cops care.

Ellen slows at the intersection then comes to a conspicuously complete stop at the stop sign. Besides, that stuff costs money. Just because we’ve got a bunch at the moment doesn’t mean you can throw it around. Slowly she turns left and heads up the hill. If you think for…

All right, All right Ellen we get it…

Jane interrupts, leaning up between the seats from the back. What did you want her to write down, anyway?

Oh, yeah, wait a minute. I’ve got to… The car turns and accelerates down Conservatory. Ready?

Heather nods, pen poised.

Ellen squints, taking a meditative hit on the still lit joint. Here we go:

After illumination

All sensation

Becomes ecstatic

Then she farts.

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Echo Horsemouth

The Jewel in the Lotus
The Mirror of the World
The Nervy Grin of Beauty
The Lady of the Ocean of Foreknowledge
The Noble Apocalypse Finder
The Cleaner of the Misty Moon
The Illusive Lion
Moist Mother Earth
The Wheel of Circling Light
The Elfmound of Nechtan’s Wife
The Fair of the Great Boar
The Banner of Obtained Wisdom
The Assembly of Mild and Angry Tutelary Deities
The Holy Doctrine of the Great End
Three Rough Stones Under a Rainy Sky

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