Friday, September 17, 2004
Fake But Accurate
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'We Belong Defeated'
I think if the Democratic Party is ever going to come to its senses, and realize that they must tear the party down and rebuild it from the ground up, and cast out those elements that excuse terrorism and wish destruction upon you and me.For that to happen, "Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed." Beating him is not going to do it. A squeaker will only lead to another four-year span of "Bush stole the election [bla bla bla]." The Dem lawyers are already gearing up for the lawsuits, and are already declaring Florida's voting apparatus invalid. No. He must be absolutely disgraced.
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
Dissent Is Patriotic.
That's why Democrats hate it.
So what was it that drove me to (1) realize that voting for a third party as a symbolic gesture was a stupid waste of time, (2) get involved in any way shape or form in a political function, and (3) actually register as a Republican, a party whose views I can sympathize with but do not largely embrace?
It was certainly a long process, but when the thunder finished rolling, there was no uncertainty. The Democrats have become something downright scary. I have come to accept that they must never, ever regain power in this country, and must be demolished and replaced with a new loyal opposition.
There were early rumblings several years back: a failed attempt to sneak through a bill that illegalized home schooling; the David Dinkins administration that almost destroyed New York with the Crown Heights race riots and the illegal Red Apple deli boycott; the Colin Ferguson rampage and Democratic response to it; the Tawana Brawley affair and Al Sharpton's slander against New Yorkers (and the Democrats' embrace of a man that belongs in prison), ad hominem accusations of being a racist if you dared to think OJ Simpson was guilty, the Clintons' attempt to destroy the American medical system through Socialism, Janet Reno's real destruction of American civil rights (forget the Patriot Act; think Waco, Ruby Ridge, Elian Gonzalez, etc), Hillary's attempt to pin the Oklahoma City bombing on Rush Limbaugh and his Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy (is that a band name or what?), and a bunch of other incidents.
Then there was all the Clinton Whitewater stuff, and Hillary's obvious criminal trading activity which nobody cared about, and the Monica distraction which nobody should have cared about. And then I started to notice things about the press, like when Dan Rather sighed "Well, we've lost another one" as a state on his map turned red. Sure, the press beat the Monica dead horse, but only because sex trumps party loyalty. But the idea that the press might be reporting actual news had cracked beyond repair by then.
Then came a more frightening omens: the 2000 election. As I waited on line (that's right, I said "on" line!) to vote for a third-party candidate, the person in front of me, a typical homeless guy, and evidently illiterate, stood studying a scrap of paper that somebody had given him. It read:
Here was some bum being told which levers to click on, obviously by somebody who had given him some kind of payment, probably cigarettes. And even the person who wrote it couldn't spell Hillary's last name.
And outside, there was some typical Park Slope mother, with a pinched face and a "No Son of a Bush in the White House" button, yanking spoiled little Joshie by the arm away from the entrance. She was already in a bitter rage. At what? Had Bush already lied? Had people already died? No. There was some hidden agenda I didn't know about that was making the Democrats crazy, even before the election. And when I got to work, I read all about the various scams of cigarettes-for-votes, double-voting students, etc, across the country. Almost exclusively by Democrats. And it really started to make me afraid.
Afraid that this country, this democracy, was being quietly dismantled, was being subverted. There was a coup going on here. And I realized with horror that if they succeeded in cheating their way into the White House, we would be just another banana republic. This was the kind of crap they did in South America. Not in America.
Then the election was a near tie. And Gore lost. And we had the recount. And Gore still lost.
And he had the gall to say "Don't get snippy!"
But then the lawyers swooped in. And with Terry McCauliff's guidance, Gore tried to push the coup into a new realm: litigation. And they put select county recounts into the hands of local Democrats to examine ballots chad by chad, and through a system of guessing who the voter wanted based on vague impressions on over-handled paper ballots and a pinch of psychic empathy. And still Gore lost.
And it went to the Supreme Court. And Gore lost again.
I thought the coup had finally failed. But it goes on even now four years later. And they still claim Bush "stole" the election, or that the Supreme Court "appointed" the "resident." "Selected, not elected." Even though it was Gore that decided to spit on the Constitution and history and honor and tradition by litigating the democratic process. I've got to say, this pointless act by the Democrats sure ruined the Christmas of 2000.
And it made me start to realize the Democratic party of FDR, Truman and Kennedy was truly dead. Instead we were stuck with the party of Jesse Jackson and Ted Kennedy.
Then the Clinton pardon scandal. And the vandalism of the White House by Gore's people. The W-less keyboards. We were truly witnessing a level of government beneath the Sandanistas. Couldn't these people just admit defeat this time around, like everybody else did before, and think "We'll be back in four years"? (I believe there was some more serious vandalism by the sore losers, some of whom are still in the bureaucratic capacity they occupied during the Clinton years, and not simply on inanimate objects, but that will have to wait for a future post.)
No, there was more to it than that. There was still some hidden agenda that was making the Dems freak out. A simple loss of the Presidency had never had this effect before. What could it be?
I think I'm starting to put the pieces together. More later.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
How Dare You Question My Patriotism!
Suffice to say, my experience as a volunteer at the GOP convention was something of a disappointment.
I really wanted to contribute to the effort, and pretty much just sat in a car in an underground garage for four days, listening to the dispatcher for an assignment. I had one call on Monday, and drove three elderly visitors ten blocks from the Garden to their hotel. Oh, and one cancellation. That was it.
I didn't get to visit the floor of the convention, as we were promised we would. In fact, I didn't even get to hear the speakers via radio, as I had to stay glued to the dispatcher. Hell, they allowed several pro-fascist protestors within feet of the Vice President. But I was locked out.
The most excitement I got was hearing other drivers' instructions:
Proceed to [hotel]. You're picking up John McCain. You're taking him to the VIP entrance on 33rd.
Not to say that I was expecting to meet bigwigs and celebrities. But I was looking forward to casual chatting with delegates about their home states and about their experience in New York.
I came close: I was sent to pick up Senator Sam Brownback from the Box Tree hotel. I was all psyched to chat with him about Kansas and NASA. I parked the car on 49th Street and stood there waiting for an hour and a half. The call was finally cancelled.
Some other driver got a call to take somebody to Brooklyn. Gee, I would have liked that, since I'm a big Brooklyn booster, and know my way around. At least it would be an interesting drive.
There was one interesting facet to the experience: going through security. Taking your car across 33rd Street from 9th to 8th was akin to driving through a Beirut checkpoint. You had dogs sniffing your car, bomb detectors passed over, under and around, you had to show three different kinds of ID, and answer a bunch of questions. Interesting for me; I wonder if delegates were unnerved by it.
I guess it was effective, if nothing else. No terrorist attacks. No significant protestor problems. Congrats, NYPD. I always knew the anarchists would regret ever showing their pimply faces in my town. This ain't Seattle, you antiglobalization freaks!
Any way, sitting in the car with the A/C on (which was necessary in the hot garage), gave me a terrible cold. I had to bow out after Monday night. Ironically, as I was leaving, I finally received my Secret Service photo ID badge. My sole souvenir.
Never even got the official volunteer shirt. Oh well. So much for volunteering.
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