So now I can emerge from my cave…

It would seem that my good friend Barry Obama has the Democratic nomination all wrapped up!  That’s good, I was running low on beans in my apocalypse shelter.

This whole ordeal, just the ordeal of nominating, mind you, has been the greatest circus I have ever seen in my twenty years of inside-the-beltway life.  Well, technically I’m about half a mile outside the beltway but I think that should still count, the psychosis rate is the same (100%).

Who ever would have thought, that in one year, the battle for the nomination of the Democratic Party, and likely next President of the United States of America, would be a bitterly-fought war between a charismatic, first term black senator, and a brilliant, shrewd woman with enough balls to start her own sports shop.  Do we live in the bizzaro world?  Did this good spaceship Earth fall through the titular chaos fold itself sometime last fall?

The experience, for me, has been so harrowing that I’ve suffered no fewer than two politically-induced panic attacks, and those usually don’t begin until the general election season!

For my part, I’m still a fan of the Clintons, especially Bill, I mean, the man is one of the few personal heroes of mine who is still alive.  The man just loves a good fight is all.

And blowjobs.  Can’t forget blowjobs, but if you run the country as well as he did, I think you’re entitled to a little executive head on the side, or under the desk as the case may be.  George Bush on the other hand, well, lets just say he needs to head down to the Man Bureau and turn in his cock once this is over.  And then walk home.

Come to think of it, its probably a good thing Hillary won’t get the nomination.  If she became President, she’d have to sit in the same desk, in the same seat, as the one her husband got blown on.  She couldn’t go for a pen without thinking “That’s where she was… right there…”

She’d be taking the 3 AM phone calls on the same phone her husband used while America’s Favorite Intern dutifully fellated him!  She’d never be able to get anything done.  Poor girl.

Advertisements

Respite for the Cynical.

I live in Washington D.C. and I have all my life. It’s no surprise that I’ve long been cynical and jaded as to what I see as the realities of the system, for good or ill.

It all started when I was in sixth grade. I sat in a classroom as history unfolded before us, as the final vote that would decide the fate of Bill Clinton’s presidency was cast down. The class, one of the best and brightest of our age, had to be physically divided. The vast majority of the class, twenty or so students sat as a mob around the television rooting against the President, with each “Nay” vote drawing more ire from them. I sat at the far side of the room, with six other people. We were the only ones who did not want to see the President kicked out of office.

Ever since that day, though I feel justice was served in the vote, has my faith in the culture and future of this nation been damaged. That a debate became so contentious that children had to be segregated lest violence break out between them, in this nation. I’m confident I’m not the only scion of the era that experienced this dispiriting moment.

Though I have been vigilant to remain aware and educated on the state of our nation’s politics, be it by necessity or circumstance, I have not been confident. I hear words like “hope” and “change” bandied about by people who seek only their manipulative value. I see politicians fight not for what they believe in, or what they believe is good for the country, but for themselves, and only themselves. A sick combination of the Roman Forum and Coliseum, a drama played out for our enjoyment, and with no small amount of blood spared.

Barack Obama has managed to cut my cynicism, if only a little. His words inspire earnest reaction in even the most black-hearted of pundits. He says change not as a buzzword but as an idea, one intrinsically tied to hope. The hope that we can change, that my cynicism is no longer needed, that those classrooms of petulant children we call the houses of congress can reconcile their differences and work for a greater purpose.

So is there respite for the cynical in this world? For once I think there is. I’m not the only one, either. Best political video in years after the jump. Continue reading