Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Herman Cain and the American Outsiders...

Interesting article in the American Spectator about why (most of) the Republican field -- but especially Herman Cain --  for 2012 is truly representative of what the Nation Stands For.

Quite frankly, I rather doubt most of our political establishment knows just what the fuck this Nation Stands For, and nothing short of dynamite will give most of them a clue.

There's only three (minor) problems with this article, as I see it:

1. Anything that has a picture of a young, chipmonk-cheeked, short, and tattooed Tom Cruise, and an oh-so-pretty Ralph Macchio deliberately trying to look like tough urban bad boys strains credulity. It makes me want to laugh my ass off, frankly, because let's face it: Tom Cruise is (probably) gayer than figure skating, and the last time I heard, Ralph Macchio was one of Beverly Hills' best hairdressers.

2. It's about time for the myth of the Pilgrims coming to America to seek religious freedom to finally fade away. The Pilgrims were sent here by the English Crown to die, because their anal-retentive brand of Taliban-style Christianity made them a political threat to the Realm. If the treacherous sea voyage didn't get them, the wilderness full of savages surely would.

I realize that this is part of the National Foundation Myth, but it's a trite little bit of propaganda which has far outlived it's usefulness.

3. I tend to ignore anyone who treats anything ex-British Prime Minster Tony Blair has to say, on any subject -- let alone on 'what it means to be an American' (with a gushy-girly-crush-type enthusiasm) -- as if it the very utterance were representative of some mythic genius. If you believe that Tony Blair was even Irish-Setter-smart, and that anything he says bears repeating (let alone writing down), either your standards in such things are excessively low, or you need psychiatric help.

Then again, two-thirds of the article is devoted to a book/movie with seven girly-men in it, written by a manly-girl, and dealing with the acne-scarred angst of a teenaged gang conflict with an undertone of High-School class warfare, so there you go. The more I read, the more I kept expecting a Judy Bloom reference, but was, alas, sadly disappointed. Maybe next time, Mr. Lord can get around to comparing Americans to Dr. Seuss' elephant in "Horton Hears a Who" ? But, I digress...

Read the damned thing, anyway, because once you stop giggling and get through all the 'Dear Diary' bullshit tone of it all, there is a kernel of truth.

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