What is one to make of the fact that Marshall Matt Dillon (James Arness) and Dr. Death (Jack Kevorkian) died in the same week? Probably nothing – except to note that both old heroes and more contemporary ones are leaving us in droves. That’s because so many of them are old. I don’t get too distressed when noting the deaths of very old people; what else can they do (they can’t live forever, no matter who or how rich they are)? But symbolically, it was sad to see that two men – one who portrayed a heroic character, another who was an heroic character – died in a week when we could have used a few heroes.
For example, I’d like to think that Marshall Dillon would have run the likes of Sarah Palin out of town, had she and her Magical Twistery Tour bus arrived in Dodge, because he didn’t cotton to con men, even if they were pretty women. This post represents the last time I will mention Sarah Palin, because that dingbat shouldn’t be getting any attention except to point out her unceasing stupidity.
To wit, here’s what she said when she visited Ellis Island: "The immigrants of the past, they had to literally and figuratively stand in line and follow rules to become U.S. citizens. I’d like to see that continue. And unfortunately, the DREAM Act kind of usurps that – the system that is a legal system to make sure that immigrants who want to be here legally, working hard, producing and supplying revenue and resources for their families, that they’re able to do that right and legally. Unfortunately, the DREAM Act doesn’t accomplish that."
I’ll ignore both her deplorable speech and the fact that immigrants didn’t stand on line “figuratively,” and just point out that the DREAM Act only applies to persons who were brought to this country when they were young children. Their parents came here illegally and, since they were kids, they had no choice but to come along for the ride. So, our problem with illegal immigrants has nothing to do with them.
Here’s what Palin said about Paul Revere when she was in Boston: "He who warned, uh, the ... the British that they weren’t gonna be taking away our arms, uh, by ringing those bells and, um, by making sure that as he’s riding his horse through town to send those warning shots and bells that, uh, we were gonna be secure and we were gonna be free…and we were gonna be armed." I’ll just let that speak for itself.
In general, I have no interest in the Republican fracas to find a candidate, because I don’t really care who they select. I won’t be voting for him or her, and I refuse to pay attention to this frigging campaign until after the Conventions, when there’s something tangible to pay attention to. And in any case, I’m reserving my concern for what Obama will say to win again (and he plans to have $1 billion to say it with) and what he will do after he wins again.
I find it amusing (because if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry) that Republicans and Conservatives [still] talk about Obama as if he were The Great Socialist Hope that one might concede he seemed to be when he was running for President the last time, since he almost immediately made a mad dash for Center Court (as it were) and has been doing an unsettling version of Republican Lite from Day One. The fact that he’s not right-wing enough for the right-wingers doesn’t mean anything; if Barry Goldwater were alive today, he wouldn’t be right-wing enough for the right-wingers. That’s how far right the right-wingers have flown.
I also no longer have any interest in (or much compassion for) politicians who let their dicks take the lead, thereby rendering them useless for viable public service. Way back then, John Edwards was the only Democratic contender who was seriously talking about poverty and its dangerous leading role in everything from bad education to inadequate health care to poor economic growth on several levels. Now he can’t say…well, “dick” about anything.
Similarly, Rep. Anthony Weiner’s “that depends on what the definition of is is” response to the appearance of supposedly-him-but-he’s-not-sure pictures of him in his undies on Twitter (who knew you could upload photos on Twitter; I thought it was just for 140-character statements). We needed his balls in Congress, not his dick. What is it with these guys and their juvenile obsession with their wee-wees? We are such a sexually immature, Puritan country, it turns me red with embarrassment and white with fear of what will become of us.
So, I spent the week trying not to think about current events: not think about another banker who tried to play footsie with a hotel maid who didn’t want to play; not think about the e-coli outbreak in Germany that is demonizing vegetables, once again; not think about the Republicans playing “symbolic” footsie with the debt ceiling because they’re clueless about how the economy they created actually works; and not thinking about Syria or Yemen or Libya, because I just don’t have the strength (I wish they’d all just self-destruct).
Instead, I’ve been thinking about food prices, because I went shopping and every week it’s a greater shock than the week before, and I’ve been thinking about the chicken curry I’m going to make tonight, and the jicama (which I haven’t had in years) that I’ll be putting in my salad, and what kind of bread and muffins I want to bake, because I do bake, since it’s cheaper and I try to keep it cheerful.
I’ll let you know next week if anything more substantive comes to mind.