Obama/Biden ’08

So its official, my man, Barack Obama has chosen Joe Biden as his running mate for the upcoming presidential election.

Good choice, in my opinion, not the best choice but the best choices would generally be impossible.

I’m happy but not thrilled, not that this stood the slightest chance of affecting my own vote.  I’ll wait to pass judgement on how smart this was until after I see Biden speak tomorrow, and at the DNC.

In related campaign news, I turn 21 in under 24 hours, which will bring me one year closer to my 2024 Presidential campaign as the nominee for the CAPS LOCK ticket.

ANDREW ZIMMER 2024:  CRUISE CONTROL FOR AMERICA

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An Angry Person

I recieved a comment today, from someone I may or may not know, that was rather touching.  One of the things it said, was “I honestly just thought you were an angry person”.

Well, in certain ways, I am.

One of the things I talk about a lot is politics, growing up in the shadow of Washington D.C. it becomes a part of you, at least if you’re at all intelligent which I like to think I am, even if I don’t show it all the time.  Politics, though, makes me angry.  A lot of things make me angry.  I am an angry person, but the anger doesn’t come from some dark place, it comes from reality, or at least the reality I am exposed to on a daily basis.  It also comes from the knowledge that things should be better in the world than they are.

There’s an optimism to my anger, because my anger is one that can and should be shared by everyone in the world.  The anger at ourselves for not having done enough, because really, you never can.  I’m an angry person because I’m not as much a success as I could be.  I’m an angry person because I’ve wasted many opportunities afforded to me, and squandered as many gifts.  I’m an angry person because I think I could make a difference, but also think that I may have lost my chance.

Sometimes the most difficult thing in the world is realizing what you are, and who you are.  I’m not an angry person, though I can be angry.  I’m not a bitter person, or a jealous person, or a mean person, though I can and have been all those things.  What I am is an ordinary person, someone who’s made a few too many mistakes and missed a few too many chances, at least from where they see it.  For people with dreams of changing the world the hardest thing to admit is that you’re no different from anybody else when you get down to the core of it all.

What makes an angry person a leader or a bitter person a fighter is effort, effort I haven’t put in.

It may seem egotistical to want to change the world or think you can, and it is.  My ego’s pretty big.  Even still, I think it is better to try and fail than sit and watch, especially after all the sitting, and all the watching I have done in my brief time on this chaotic world.

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.

Don’t Call It A Comeback

The past few weeks I’ve been dealing with a lot.  Lot of bullshit.  I’ve gone into turtle mode, really, and because of it my writing has suffered.  Anyway, I’m going to try to make the effort to write some more here, maybe pump a bit more life into this dead husk of a blag.  I’ve got some thoughts percolating on modern medicine, the political ramifications of the Sino-American partnership, the Olympics, Grand Theft Auto IV, and life itself.

Here’s a preview:

Doctors increasingly don’t know what they’re doing, and yet they increasingly think they know what they’re doing.  I’m not anti-science by any stretch, but the mind and its processes are the one thing that modern medicine is nowhere close to mastery over.  The increasing cultural drive to paint sadness as a medical condition that must be cured is doing more harm than good, especially on Prozac Kids like me.  In a month, it will be the first time since I was eight years old that my brain has not been addled by psychiatric drugs.

China and the United States have found a brilliant way to wage a weaponless cold war.  China, by and large seen as a nascent superpower, will host the Olympics, an irrelevant exercise by all definitions, but by doing so they are drawing massive protest from all corners of the globe, except of course Washington D.C.  America has sold itself to China in exchange for cheap consumer goods, and China has sold itself to America in exchange for a means of rapid industrialization and economic growth.  If one leaves the partnership, both fall apart.  The economic form of Mutually Assured Destruction, and the most brilliant political accident in history.

Grand Theft Auto IV is amazing, and I have been no fan of the series nor its creators.  More on that once I actually beat it.

And life?  Well, this seems to be the time of revitalization in all forms of life.  Mating season for the mammals, trees and flowers bloom, kids flock into the parks and streets to play.  But how does that vitality reach one so inneured in The Matrix, as it were?  The answer is chemical, and the response is a full-frontal assault against my drive to mate.  More at 11.

Til’ next time, this is Andrew Zimmer, not dead yet.

I’m a liar

(note: This post contains wildly harsh language, in quotation. For all my love of the word Fuck, this shit shouldn’t be taken as my own opinion. Consider yourself warned)

I’ve not updated in forever, and honestly it’s because the world is so infuriating at a base level right now that I’m barely staying coherent.

Personal stuff aside, here’s one of the more infuriating facets of the world of late: The 2008 Presidential Campaign. Specifically, the increasingly bitter and hateful primary of my own party, the party I’ve known for tolerance, if not ability to win elections.

Once again they’ve proven to me that if anyone knows how to fuck a sure thing up, its the Democratic National Party. They are the world’s greatest losers. Here we have two of the best political minds of our generation all but killing each other on the campaign trail, their supporters so entrenched that I’ve seen things so absurd that they’re challenging my faith in humanity as a whole.

Clinton supporters talking about the “worthless nigger” Obama.

Obama supporters talking about the “stupid cunt” Clinton.

Putting aside my own political allegiances, this is the most shameful behavior I’ve ever seen, on either side of the aisle. I expect this bullshit from Republicans, that’s why I’m a Democrat. But to see the people themselves so bitterly divided, when they agree on just about everything is nothing short of tragic.

When did people start having, no pun intended, dick-measuring contests over what -ism was worse? Discussions between Obama and Clinton supporters, people who by all rights shouldn’t even be fighting, inevitably turn into “Well you’re a racist, and racism is worse than sexism!” versus “Well you’re a sexist, and sexism is far worse than racism!” ad infinitum.

There are no winners.

If Hillary wins the nomination, and let me be clear, I think she’d be a great president, she does so at the expense of the party. By all accounts she’d have to steal the convention with the superdelegates to come away victorious.

If Obama wins the nomination, and I happen to think he already has, he does so at the cost of a great deal of female support, support he needs.

A compromise ticket is impossible, the divisions run too deep, any ticket with both candidates on it will alienate twice as many people as either one by themselves.

You know the most psychotic thing about it all? This election should be a walk for the Dems. No incumbent party has ever, EVER won re-election to the White House during a recession. Ever! It shouldn’t even be a factor, McCain might as well be a sack of sand, he’s got about the same chance! Or at least he should have, now the Democrats are beating the shit out of one another in some twisted Rovian wet-dream, a nightmare that even the most cynical mind couldn’t have thought up.

I’m a very political guy. I’m political despite my cynicism. I’m political because I think the only way to improve the world is to work with it, not against it. I believe in the essential goodness of humanity, the enduring virtue of survival and ingenuity that cannot be undone by our own machinations. I base everything on the assumption that people are good, misguided at times, but good.

The more I live, though, the harder it is to keep believing in that.

Friends With Retards

No offense to actual retards meant by the following.

Anyway, has anyone else noticed that as your life progresses, it isn’t so much a journey in self-improvement and maturity as it is weeding out the retards that you’re friends with?  I know most of the stupid shit I’ve done in the past, the sort of thing you look back on with that “Oh holy jumping fucking shitballs what the fuck was I thinking” can be traced directly to a retard who I was friends with, and subsequently identified and eliminated from my life.

Sometimes, more extreme measures in retard prevention are necessary, such as changing schools in order to wipe the slate clean when the retard-to-intelligent ratio is too imbalanced.  For instance, after my freshman year of high school I performed such a scorched-earth maneuver to purge a dangerously high contamination of retards that was beginning to affect my health.  Oddly enough, in ninth grade I was a volunteer worker for the POD, which is a sort of code-name for retard pen.  These were the legitimate, physically and mentally disabled folks who were wheelchair-bound or otherwise unfit for mainstream education.

They were some of the most intelligent, tolerable, and genuine people I ever knew.  There was a guy there, Scotty, he was wheelchair-bound due to Spino Bifida, but otherwise completely sound, pretty wicked smart and more athletic than I was at the time.  I know because we’d do laps together and he’d always outrun me in his chair.

So when I bade farewell to that god-forsaken school, I made sure to let all those people know that they were more normal than the normal people, or at least more tolerable.

At this point in my life I’ve reached what I’d call retard equilibrium, my current pool of friends is limited enough that retards are outnumbered roughly 2:1, which is necessary for any sort of coherent lifestyle.  Otherwise you run the risk of one of your retard friends getting you involved in some truly retarded shit.

Unfortunately I live in Washington D.C. so all that hard work in retard purging is counterbalanced by the ‘Tard Nexus mere miles away.

Pray for me, my friends.

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