It’s a hell of a thing, Shanoah. This is my first real blog post since Barack Obama was elected. It really is a new age for America, if only because of the genetically-determined melanin concentrations in his epidermis (a fancy way of saying that he’s black). I rooted for him, I voted for him, I even got up off my ass and helped his campaign – not a whole lot, admittedly, but a lot for me – and now that the results are in and the election’s been called for him, all I can think is:
“Ohmygod ohmygod what did I do what did I do why did I do this why did I do this is there any way we can go back and re-do this ohmygod ohmygoooooooood”
Buyer’s remorse? Am I actually regretting that I helped elect president a man who, if certain breathless bloggers are to believed, will grant amnesty to all black criminals and sic the Gestapo on an unsuspecting United States right before he turns the nation into a godless Islamic communist atheist shari’a state where you have to get a gay marriage before you’re shipped off to your hippie commune? Oh, and Israel will just spontaneously combust out of general principle on Jan. 20, for reasons that I don’t quite understand?
No.
The problem I’m having is a little hard to explain. See, I’ve spent the last eight years of my life under the yoke of George W. Bush, and under the yoke of some of the most ignorant, fearful and, let’s face it, laughable people in American history. I’ve seen the world go to pot, and I’ve had all kinds of reasons to complain.
And I really like to complain.
I’m from New Jersey. Kvetching is the state sport there, even more than trying to commit vehicular homicide on the Parkway. And people forget one little wonderful thing about complaining: If you’re the one complaining then, almost by definition, someone else must be screwing things up. You don’t have to to anything to improve things. You just bitch and moan until whoever bollixed things sets them aright.
Yes, this is twisted. Pathological, even. But this is how my mind works.
So for eight glorious, wonderful years, I’ve been able to complain about how the Republicans can’t find their own their own asses with both hands and a hound dog. Why? Because I didn’t vote for them! “Don’t blame me! I didn’t vote for Bush! Now let me inform you, from this long, annotated, footnoted and disturbingly detailed list, why I didn’t vote for Bush!”
But now… oh Christ… now my guy’s going to the Oval Office. The party that I most identify with is in control. I actually helped them get elected. And now I feel like that gives every poster on Free Republic just cause to slap the hell out of me if anything goes wrong during Obama’s administration. Now my guy’s got to produce. Now he’s got to give (gulp) results.
You don’t have to give results when your side loses. All you have to do is laugh like a loon whenever the winning side slips up. I’m not cool with losing that somewhat dubious honor.
It would help more if I felt more enthusiastic about Obama. But there’s a lot of things that I don’t like about him. And no, it’s not that he’s black or young or has a name that sounds sorta kinda Arab.
Let’s see, he voted to give amnesty to the phone companies for assisting in Bush’s domestic wiretapping program. He wants to pull the troops out of Iraq but, it seems, only so he can send them to Afghanistan. And some of his statements during the campaign make him sound even more bloodthirsty than Bush (he’d invade Pakistan if it’d net us Osama bin Laden!? He does know Pakistan is our ally, right?).
Simple. It kinda tells you what I thought of McCain and his running mate Da Yooper if I’d vote for a candidate that flawed, doesn’t it? McCain/Palin ran an ugly campaign, and they were backed by the likes of Rush Limbaugh, Pat Buchanan, Karl Rove, Bill O’Reilly, Rupert Murdock and Dick Cheney. They’re the kind of slimy and arrogant that they only wish the “liberal media” was.
The Republicans could have run a ticket of Jesus/Mary (and there were times when I thought that they were) and I wouldn’t have voted for them. Hell, I voted against McCain/Palin just so I could imagine the look on Limbaugh’s fat mug if Obama won.
And he did. And Rush Limbaugh’s Web site didn’t update from Nov. 4 to Nov. 5 until late in the day. I like to think that he was too busy popping OxyContins and blood pressure meds to bother with his site.
Yes, I can get that evil. This election campaign has made me that evil. Thank God it’s over.
Plus… damn… we have a black man as president-elect. A candidate’s epidermal melanin concentration isn’t supposed to matter in these things, but it does. Some very ignorant people make it matter, which is why it is so… damn… unbelievable that a black man overcame all that and got the Big Office.
So I’ve decided. Instead of worrying and angsting myself another ulcer, I’m going to sit back and enjoy this unusual (for me) feeling of actually backing the winning pony for a change. Maybe I’ll head over to Free Republic and watch all the “patriots” and Ayn Rand fans chase their tails and call each other to arms, to arms! Yeah, that’s sounds like a plan: watch them try to choke down those big slices of crow pie while I enjoy a light, crisp schadenfreude.
No worrying until Jan. 20. Then I’ll dive under the blankets and refuse to come out of my room.
In recognition of this unusual new feeling – I think it’s called “hope” – I offer Bruce Springsteen’s The Rising, off the 2002 album of the same name. Springsteen played this several times for Obama’s campaign, and it played during his speech last night. Interestingly, The Rising was written for the 9/11 attacks, which means its choice as a campaign song can be interpreted as either a portent of disaster or of a nation rising out of the ashes. We won’t see which it is until Jan. 20.
Courtesy of kishdude.
