Sitting here watching Scarborough cat call the sobriety of the Iowa status and alluding to last night's Republican Debate I get a strange distraction from what I really want to say yet am struck by the way the host "Joes Down" the "stupidity" of Iowa and the tradition of elevating an otherwise certifiably "crazy" candidate...folks; I'm here to tell ya: Joe's quite the guano himself.
The "Race Bait" crowd had a ride casting white women while "inspiring" men of all conditions,through the 2008 Primaries where the only transparency about was the bought and paid for media. The former Congressman from Pensacola typically calls somebody "stupid" on any given morning while Mika burnishes her "Mama Wants To Concentrate On Her Driving" image without threatening to stop the car. Today Joe expressed what I have always found annoying about otherwise professional men. They show up at work not quite sobered up from the previous evening's enhanced exchange and forget that this is the work for which they are being paid. It's "Watering Hole" socializing: run yer mouth, say some incredibly "witty" or caustic things, then laugh it off, do NOTHING about it and, after all, this is just socializing. Issue here: the boozed up buddies can't seperate the night's knock-off from the beginning of a new day's well rested (or sleep-tortured worriers) freshly showered and cleaned up with a "begin this new day with love in my heart" intent.
I wasn't at that bar last night, guys. I wasn't the woman in the mirror who became the evening's Joke or momentary competition for attention. This Country is feeling a lot like Atlanta of the 80's when I wasn't at that gay gathering, or at that cruize bar, or at any of the other places where an unemployed, cash-strapped single mom was trying to raise a daughter. I was with "friends" all suffering similar fate. We were getting a handle on MTV, working toward's Budweiser's "Know When To Say When" campaign and reclaiming our professional integrity after finding ourselves fired despite having dealt respectfully with their every whining, petty objection.
Two things drove me back home to a place I swore I'd never return: Infidelity and Substance Abuse. I'm watching the "guys" tear down Bachmann with their gangster gay shit alluding to all the "good times" back at Java Joe's in DeMoines with people who pass themselves off as objective. They rip into her for her lack of experience in an executive position, (Excuse me, she and her husband have a BUSINESS dealing with Insurance Companies, Government programs and Taxes) and ridicule her Tea Party Leadership as a failed game of chicken. Oh, yes, and her legislation opposing the Government denying "Choice" of lightbulbs. It's those little things, symbolic and trite, I guess, but those are the symbols that unite Americans, "drive" them to the polls like cattle to the marketplace, and boil down the resentment, built since the last election, towards the pig-in-the-poke without the lipstick, that they put on us the last time. I'm observing Joe holding court with a healthy mix of political celebrities and have come to understand what seperates the "winners" from the losers in this game. Alcohol. Extravagance. Bravado and Booze-Ballooned Brashness that strikes a chorde, but after getting us all pumped up with righteous indignation, THEY Joe Down from the buzz and forget what they were so riled up about and - heh, heh, good ol' boys that they are, fagitaboutit.
Like wasting your time like that? Like the pig guys who don't really mean any of the things they so passionately pronounce? Like being "subordinated" to Leadership By Positioning who are but "Gate Keepers" and Bouncers in the Club of Life. Well, thank you, 'Gentlemen,' I hopp'd off this track and decided long ago to let it run without me, because I came to recognize that it was a track, not a road, a ferry back and forth, not a journey. It's about the companionship, the loyalty, the Friendship, right? And as long as you can muster the gumption to force out the person who earned that payday you're about to cop, you have the one true friend in the bottle, the snort, the joint you're passing. I got the lesson in politics when Donna Zuelke expressed the hope that Lynne, the girlfriend who turned her son onto dope, wouldn't be skating with us, while a couple of prospective dope buyers were really hoping she would. It's a strange world where mothers who sedated their children as an alternative to dealing with them are disturbed that they grew up to choose sedation over dealing with Mom's hopes and dreams for them.
If you were the unwitting "mom" at home with the kids, unaware of the world beyond your household, easily spun and sold a tale of working late to cover for infidelity, you have an "ear" for what's really being delivered here. If you were an awestricken fool who bought the Obama Bull, you're just as likely to go for the Tea Party they're developing - without leadership - in a Spider and Starfish Pattern. It's a Swingin' Pendulum. It confirms what I concluded when I walked out on my family to take a shot at the big apple: when people are bickering and squabbling, the business doesn't go down. Just as certainly, when they're knocking off early for the day or the week to gang together at Happy Hour, some creepy things they can't put out of their minds are bound to happen.
On the Home Front, the sober, early risers have a recognition factor that levels us out and evens our temperament. A world apart from these folks, we don't pretend to get it. We sort it out. Discovering yourself to be the victim of a liar is a shock that drives you from what you believed to be your life. It represents Death as Transition to the next life, the one that was calling you through the suppression of suspicion and doubt. It's not a guarantee, either, but it's insistent.
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