Seeing What Sticks

What we’re seeing of late plopping out of the rear end of the American Right would, to a normal person, appear to be a Tourette’s-fueled tirade of utter nonsense, and rightly dismissed as such.  Michael Steele, Liz Cheney, Glenn Beck, Sarah Palin: even the spokesmen are so risibly unqualified and dunderheaded that you’d think the whole party had all just given up and gone home to count the rather substantial winnings of three decades of robbing America blind and polluting its discourse with discredited, counterfactual blather.  Their “arguments,” using the term generously, are so transparently fear-based, reality-deprived, and false, that you’d also think they’d be rightly banished from the discussion. But, as anyone who watches television can see, you’d be wrong.

Unfortunately, no one is so invested in the idea that the Right and its ideas simply can’t be as wrong as they’ve demonstrably turned out to be as our pathetic media that lionized them even as they drove the country off a cliff.  They were the cheerleaders, just like their most recent hero, George Bush once was, and they continue to wave their pom-poms and jump around long after their uninterrupted string of humiliating defeats in the real world.  The disastrous rah-rah-ing that accompanied every bizarre and stupid idea, from the Reagan tax cuts to the wars hither and yon, the eager acquiescence to the disastrous New World Order of Free Trade and carpet bombing, and the respectful airing of crackpot theories that denied everything from evolution to environmental catastrophe, the ridiculous notion that making the rich richer through no-bid contracts and deregulation of the always rapacious financial “industry” would lead to a land of milk and honey….  these things are now part of the historical record, and must be, if not swept under the rug, backdated, massaged, and otherwise erased, but fast.  ”No one could have predicted,” as Condi used to say, the entirely predictable collapse of the middle class, the multiple military defeats, and the economy circling the drain.

Luckily for them, many of these absurd policies left what was left of the legitimate media so wilted and impotent, thanks to consolidation and deregulation, that if you squint your eyes and lie as loudly and proudly as your guests, the dumbest members of you audience might still fall for it, at least until they can no longer afford to pay the cable bill.  When that fails, just change the subject.  This strategy is the only possible explanation for the media’s obsessions of late and the lying nincompoops they bring on to talk about them.

Faced with a health care system that has clearly bought Congress lock, stock, and barrel, and with it the bloated costs and unconscionable results that flowed from that in the name of the “free market,” why not defer to the sagacious wisdom of Sarah Palin and her ilk to muddy the waters with talk of “death panels” and “government takeovers,” when mentioning, even in passing, that no civilized country spends more and gets less for health care than ours would make you look like just another elitist liberal?  Reality, and the experience of every other industrial democracy, have a liberal bias, but luckily, we don’t have to face such things here, because we have Jim DeMint and David Gregory.

When the astronomical deficits brought on by essentially ending taxation of the rich and spending more than the rest of the world, combined, on the instruments of death now threaten our future, who better to place before the cameras than Liz “fifth deferment” Cheney to impatiently explain, like Daddy did, that “deficits don’t matter,” even as a chunk of them are still stuffed in her designer purse?  And since Bill Kristol has proven himself to be such a prescient predictor of the efficacy of war without end (much less “victory”), why not give him a column or two to wax lyrical about the glory of the next wars?  That is, if Tom “Suck. On. This.” Friedman is too busy hawking unreadable books for such a worthy endeavor.

And, in the unlikely event that Rand-addled Alan Greenspan has to attend a (currently quite urgent, as luck would have it…) charity event with his mendacious cocktailhag of a wife, Andrea Mitchell, maybe some golden-parachuted banking CEO will pinch-hit for him to darkly warn that the rich are this close to decamping for parts unknown (not Britain, it seems here lately) if they can’t continue hauling in 500 times what normal people make for their special “talents.”  Think of the thousands of maids, chauffers, and fancy hookers who might end up on the dole if that were to happen.

Basically, what we have here is a hideous mess, and the people who are, in a Democracy, supposed to tell us about it are even more compromised than the malefactors themselves, and the result, though predictable, is still pretty offensive.  Back in the last Bush recession in the early 90′s, some journalists (now fired, I’m sure) wrote a book about how political discourse in America had turned itself on its head, comforting the comfortable and afflicting the afflicted.  The title was “Who Will Tell the People?”  The answer, in the new century, is, “Nobody, if we can help it.”


  1. just a poor guy says:

    I’m unemployed. In fact, I’m one of the poor. Both poor and unemployed. Anyway, here on my brother-in-law’s computer I googled “cocktail” hoping to find a decent happy hour in the neighborhood and your sight comes up. Pretty interesting. Those rich folks you talk about, that got our money, they don’t look for happy hours, every hour is happy hour for them. Never have to worry about the price of a drink, they could spend $24 for a Manhattan, no problem. Not complaining, really, just kind of the way things are, I guess. Maybe you could do me a favor. You’re on to these rich people. And the way I see it, if I want some money, I’ll have to get it from them. A poor person can’t hire me. I’m poor, how would I pay anybody anything? Maybe you could pass along some names, addresses, phone numbers and email addresses of some of these rich guys and I could make contact with them, get my foot in the door for a job. These rich guys must need a helper around to spit shine the yat or curry their polo ponies or just water the lawn and clean the pool. I could do those things. Or even other stuff. Like steal from the poor. I hang around them, know where they live and party. I’m not so sure what I would steal from them. Most of them don’t have diddly. Hard to bum a smoke around those guys, much less get a drink off them. Anyway, I’d appreciate some tips on those rich guys, I’m willing to travel. Right now I’m going to travel down to the saloon and get in on those two for one Jagermeisters. Later.

    • cocktailhag says:

      I don’t think the richies are hiring at the moment. Heck, Tom Friedman just found out his wife’s inherited fortune came from shopping malls, which are kind of predicated on the fact that people can afford to shop. Now he has to sell more crappy books just to maintain his figure and mustache. Bummer. If I were you, I’d start a “security” firm, like Erik Prince or Joe Allbaugh. No talent or experience is required, but I’d downplay the saloon thing. Start by going to church this Sunday; it’s a good place to work off a hangover.