Something Real

Woody Guthrie's home place (c) Libby Hicks

Or at least "real."  Voting is going to come.  In NC it has come, in its early voting phase.  We can all go and actually do something.  As opposed to talking about doing something I mean.  There's no doubt that we can still wonder about the illusion of democracy--the odd way computer voting machines sometimes function or malfunction, the curious coincidence of decrepit machines ending up in minority districts, or in districts where Democrats tend to win.  Hanging chads. Done deals.  And then we can wonder about how democracy actually relates to the fact that if you have enough money and can lie incessantly for a long enough period of time, many and possibly most people will end up believing the lie and acting, i.e., voting,  accordingly.  As Doghouse says this morning, it would do the Democratic Party some good to get a beat down next week, except for the fact that the Clown Car Party will then be in charge.  That's a hell of a choice.  And last weekend we, that is, the U.S. Government, was unable to communicate with one ninth of our ICBM fleet for unknown reasons.  Some kinda glitch.  Wires got "crossed."

Digby reports today that "we" are discussing with Russia about whether they might send a component of military into Afganistan.  We need more men with guns than we can provide ourselves.  And since Americans seem unable to remember much further back than a year--otherwise, why in the world is America according to most poling seriously considering putting the very same foxes back into the hen house after only two years sorta out back in the woods, where all they could do was to catch a distracted pullet now and then.  So sure--let's get "Ivan" to hep us out over there, since he shares a border with Afganistan, and used to be quite concerned over whether Afganistan might become so weird and radical as to upset the Soviet "natives" on the other side of the border.  Sure.  Let's get "Mikey" to give it a try.  How many people have died in pursuit of keeping Ivan out of Afganistan, a policy that started with Jimmy Carter fer gawd's sake?  Never mind.  That's ancien histoire, as Henry Kissinger would say in his seminar on politique real. 

Because we know that Afgans will never ever remember when they banded together and kicked Mikey right outa there back in the '80s.

I won't even speculate over whether that stern life the Afgans try to live--dust, rock, little electricity or video games or NFL or NASCAR or chocolate fruit loops or diabetes or heart disease or tv--has some how made their old memory pods stronger and more functional, for some reason.  Sure thing.  Mericans can't quite finish, bring in the Ruskies.  No dots will be connected.  Why?  BECAUSE WE NEVER EVER CONNECT THE GODDAM DOTS HERE.  Now do we?

I believe, ultimately, in the existential choice.  I will be at the polls next Tuesday.  I will vote for the Democrats.  Sometimes you have to opt for sawing off your arm to get out of the canyon, and with the sure and certain knowledge that you might indeed bleed to death before you make the rim and that cell phone you left in the Jeep before you decided to take a little afternoon hike to catch a few perfect photos of the sun dropping down below the rim.

Update.  My good old friend Malcolm Owen was here this week and we were talking about the ideas in this post.  He pointed out that if Jesus had wanted us to live in a democracy, He would have given us some candidates worthy of our vote.