You know there’s something seriously wrong when you’re sitting in a midtown Sacramento brewpub -- just minding your own business -- attempting unsuccessfully to unknot your central nervous system after yet another trying day of being alive, and you happen to notice that there’s kickboxing playing on the television behind the bar. It should be pointed out that life is enough of a vicious scam, an overwhelming farce, and an existential gross-out already, even without the superfluous spectacle of two hyperactive spasmos beating the crap out of each other with their feet. Kickboxing? You must be kidding. Am I asleep right now, or what?
Well, if I’m not sound asleep and completely at the mercy of the venomous, pus-filled monsters at the core of my unconscious mind, I might as well be. Kickboxing -- for fuck’s sake.
So anyway, I’m pretty sure I’m awake, which is unfortunate really. Not being asleep and dreaming that our fearless “leaders” are relentlessly goading us all toward a bleak, Orwellian, post-industrial Neo-Con version of 21st century corporatist bondage must mean that it’s actually happening -- as difficult as it is to believe sometimes. It sort of goes without saying that our lives would be immeasurably eased, and the future considerably less uncertain and threatening, if the very existence of the so-called Bush “administration” was nothing more than the foul after-taste of an insubstantial nightmare induced by, say, over-exhaustion and/or over-medication; if wanton acts of criminal aggression, international torture gulags, Diebold-compromised elections, the systematically engineered impoverishment of uncountable billions of people, and the inexorable, mechanized rape and plunder and obliteration of what’s left of the real world were all simply, well, a jumbled psychological slide-show flickering across the frayed margins of humankind’s battered and beleaguered subconscious …
Yeah, if only. So much for rhetorical wishful thinking, I suppose. We’re really awake -- most of us; we’re sinking fast, and there’s not a fucking thing we can do about it. That is, nothing beyond staring at nonsensical kickboxing contests and pontificating in a blog that nobody ever reads.
Holy shit.
Three years to the day after the "official" launch of Our Great Leader's criminal misadventure in Iraq, and what are all the suburban Sacramento knuckle-draggers doing to commemorate this felonious act of aggression? Well, as far as I can see (which is, admittedly, not really very far), the car-crazed gridlock freaks and the TV-mesmerized mouth-breathers and the smiling lip-smacking swillers of tasteless pop-culture horse piss --just about everybody you meet, in other words -- are all, apparently without exception, studiously ignoring the war as they always have. The invasion/occupation of Iraq is not permitted to intrude itself too far into the always shallow and polluted Sacramento Valley consciousness stream; in fact, indifference and smug disdain for nearly everything above and beyond, say, American Idol or professional sports are practically badges of honor around these parts. So it isn't particularly surprising that the US taxpayer-funded, NeoCon-led destruction of a hapless oil-rich country hardly excites the tiniest ripple of interest among the great majority of Sacramento's zombified inhabitants. As long as there's gasoline to burn, credit cards to wield, and college basketball to stare at on the television, the poor dumb chumps in this sad town clearly have other priorities.
(As an aside, you would think that people so thoroughly immersed in a self-destructive fossil-fuel addiction would at least give passing notice to the immoral acts committed in its name, acts that do nothing but feed their addiction -- like the war in Iraq ... but I guess ironies aren't what they used to be)
Anyway, I keep telling myself that this infected asshole of a city can't be unique in this regard, in how it so passionately embraces the dubious concepts of ignorance and denial -- and not simply as they apply to the Iraq disaster and international affairs in general. This place isn't an aberration; unfortunately, we here in California's capital rather prosaically exemplify just about everything that's wrong with American society as a whole. We're the logical end-result of the long-term corporate-right campaign to confuse the idea of citizenship with consumerism, where active participation in public life is transmogrified into a stiff-limbed rictus of distracted passivity. This Northern California community is, like it or not, quintessential 21st-century America, in all its despair-riddled ugliness and stupidity.
So we find ourselves three years into the debacle in Iraq, with the catastrophe in Iran waiting in the wings. We're disintegrating domestically but everybody pretends not to notice; we're overdue for a karmic haymaker right to the chops, but nobody gives a shit. We slaughter uncounted thousands of innocents in Iraq and elsewhere, and it's of no concern whatsoever to most people ...
It would drive me to drink, if I didn't drink already.
A RATHER RELUCTANT AND SHAME-FACED UPDATE: Alright, alright. Turns out there was a Sacramento version of all the Iraq war protests this past weekend. Apparently it was taking place at the precise moment I was hoovering my way through yet another completely gratuitous pitcher of beer at one of my favorite watering holes, and for my hypocritical savaging of this town's nitwit population -- at least those who were letting themselves be heard, downtown at 16th & Broadway -- I humbly apologize. I'm a souse, so what do you expect?
I have to admit that guzzling five pints of hefeweizen and plowing my way through a surprisingly good pork tenderloin(thanks to my patient comrades at the Sacramento Brewing Company) has left me feeling a bit fog-bound and slow, at least as far as paying attention to the critical issues of the day is concerned. It's odd -- or perhaps not -- how easily the latest exposures of the Bush Crime Family's satanic rampages can be temporarily eclipsed by really smooth beer ... not to mention the above-average rendering of large portions of hog meat. Honestly, if I could arrange the termination of my miserable existence this very minute, chin-deep in a tub full of garlic mashed potatoes and with a beer in my hand, I'd consider it a more than fair way to go.
Jeeze, talk about having your thought processes ignominiously decapitated by the ephemeral satisfactions of pure physical sensation. That's nothing new for me, though. And, unfortunately, it's a condition that's all too familiar to the vast heaving mass of the American populace.
Indeed, the ignorant over-fondness for the trivial and inconsequential -- the elevation of invisible phantasms and existential ass-gas to the top tiers of importance -- is probably the number one reason why the human species is so comprehensively lodged in the cosmic toilet bowl these days, with the messed-up chowder-head American people as the most fervent proponents of grabbing hold of the handle of the ultimate and flushing humanity away, into the crap-filled septic tank of oblivion. However the fatal glorification of the stupid and inane manifests itself, whether in fulsome babblings about glabrous, fat-choked slop dished out by some greasy-spoon brew pub; within the vaporous, rapid-fire chatter of half-drunk dung-headed twenty-somethings, their capacity for critical thought and discernment thoroughly compromised and debilitated by the overpowering influence of corporatized pop-culture; or in the legions of SUV-driving assholes, kool-aid drinkers all, who daily give vent to the somewhat mistaken idea that every other human being on earth is nothing but an inconvenient obstruction, a mere speed-bump or pot hole, that impedes the accomplishment of their sacred, over-priviledged mission -- whatever that is -- well, anyway, the end result is the same. The result is a society of intellectually dislocated wind-up toys pathetically pretending to be people, cynically manipulated by a bloody power-mad ruling structure dominated by tyrannical gonad-squeezing despots ... OK, after such a pointless and (probably) incomprehensible outburst -- a sickening spew that, however much based in the truth as it might be -- certainly leaves the purposeless praising of beer and greasy bar food in a more positive light.
I'll have to leave this hopeless exercise for now, since the dumbness is getting so thick I'm seriously considering tossing my laptop through the window and having done with it, once and for all. Let me finish with this observation (in as non-sequitur a fashion as possible) about the fake Dubai ports rigmarole: think Halliburton ...
It seems rather apparent, in retrospect, why Rove and his trained chimp -- that would be George W. Bush -- would've allowed this United Arab Emirates port nonsense to assume the proportions it has. Since everything these filthy bastards are involved with is precisely calculated, politically speaking, the Republican machine would never permit criticism of the "administration" to percolate from its own rank and file; unless, of course, there were specific political reasons for doing so. And these reasons are plain and patently obvious, even to a half-pickled souse such as myself.
The immediate objective in allowing this Dubai thing to fester is, naturally, to effectively divert what little public interest there might be away from the rubber-stamp Congress and its re-authorization of the so-called "Patriot" Act, among other criminal travesties. Admittedly, that's not a particularly difficult proposition, what with the corporate media's virtual stranglehold over the American imagination and attention span, but it's clear that master manipulator Rove decided not to take any chances in this case. Ably goaded by the regime's stenographers in the press, most people are still in a contrived froth over the "startling" revelation that Arabs are set to take over the operation of several US seaports, even as the Senate overwhelmingly endorses the continued right-wing destruction of the United States Constitution -- as embodied in the ill-named "Patriot" Act -- with very little notice or fanfare of any kind. The nation has its collective boxer shorts in a wad over the red-herring prospect of foreigners running our ports (conveniently forgetting that the Saudis, the Chinese, and others have been doing just that for years), while seeming strangely unconcerned about the demise of representative government and the establishment of an overt corporate-Republican dictatorship. Rove's success with such a bread-and-butter political operation can pretty much be taken for granted, given the current state of American society.
On the other hand, the deeper and longer-term goal behind this artificial UAE controversy -- in my jumbled opinion -- is to provide congressional Republicans an easy, ready-made issue around which to base their bamboozling re-election campaigns next fall. Since Rove and his coterie of wire-pullers and chain-yankers are, if nothing else, brutal power-mad cynics, they obviously view George W. Bush as a convenient empty-headed stooge who is rapidly wearing out his welcome. This fake administration is in the crapper, for all intents and purposes, but that's not what's at issue for these slugs. Rove understands what's most important at this point: preserving Republican control of Congress, not salvaging an obscene disaster of a regime that's already been consigned to the historical slag-heap in any case. No, furthering the corporate-fascist agenda, in all its foul and debasing glory -- regardless of figurehead and/or totemic focus -- that's the number one priority for these evil scumbags.
So, in this context, allowing congressional Republicans to openly lambaste Bush over this DP World fiasco is a shrewd and well-calculated political maneuver. The Repugs get to tactically distance themselves from a thoroughly unpopular, lame-duck President, thereby giving the lie -- at least in their view -- to the obvious fact that they're nothing but a corrupt gang of sleazy automatons who only say and do what the party bosses tell them to. In addition, by appearing to take the lead in the largely fictional Protecting-The-Homeland-From-The-Evil-Arab-Terrorists campaign (never mind that the ports sale is a done deal, no matter what anybody says), they're able to co-opt what little real Democratic opposition there is to Bush generally, and seriously dilute the already questionable likelihood of a fundamental leadership change in the Congress next November. It's a sophisticated, far-reaching plan -- which will surely be supplemented and enhanced continually as the year unfolds, skillfully adapted to changing situations and circumstances -- that endeavors to consolidate and firmly entrench the over-arching medieval intentions of the Neo-Con/PNAC crowd, with or without the pin-headed buffooneries and dry-drunk embarrassments committed by current poster child GWB.
In sum, Rove and his henchmen are already laying the groundwork for the far-right's post-Bush contingency plans for the complete destruction of the American republic ... which is, of course, the same plan they've always had, but, whatever. Anyway, with the weakling Democratic "opposition" struggling along ten steps behind Rove's wrecking crew, I'd say that being optimistic about the future is just about the stupidest fucking thing anyone can do. Boy howdy, the shit sure is getting deep around here.
Remember, people: drink up while you can ...
You know there’s something seriously wrong when you’re sitting in a midtown Sacramento brewpub -- just minding your own business -- attempting unsuccessfully to unknot your central nervous system after yet another trying day of being alive, and you happen to notice that there’s kickboxing playing on the television behind the bar. It should be pointed out that life is enough of a vicious scam, an overwhelming farce, and an existential gross-out already, even without the superfluous spectacle of two hyperactive spasmos beating the crap out of each other with their feet. Kickboxing? You must be kidding. Am I asleep right now, or what?
