SAMBO BEATS BITCH; ASKS AMERICA FOR COOPERATION, RESOLVE, LOCATION OF WHITE WOMEN

The current raft of talking points being run against Obama by the McCain campaign indicate that McCain’s people had planned at some point on Israel being a major selling point. The belief that elderly Jewish voters formed a swing bloc in Florida was crusty when McCain’s running mate was up in the air (nobody who’s been in America long enough to see Arabs as implacable race-enemies to Israel would also automatically associate blacks with anti-Semitic radicalism), and as has been repeatedly documented, the choice of an evangelical kulturkampfist seems to be enough to push non-Democratic Jewish seniors away from McCain.

What we’re seeing now is the McCain campaign’s early September attack lines from an alternate universe in which the RNC opened with the selection of Joe Lieberman as a running-mate. Lieberman could and – disgustingly – probably would convincingly argue that Khalidi is a dangerous pro-Palestinian radical; the best Palin can do is shout – with increasing vehemence at an unhearing crowd – “The new President is a niggarab!” It’s one of a series of loud, shrill dog-whistles that was clearly planned for a different campaign; the Republicans are currently running McCain’s campaign with Schmidt’s tactics, a kind of nasty compromise that pleases nobody, makes the paternal autocrats look petty and the fascist parvenus look over-grasping.

I suspect the next attack line is probably going to be an effort by McCain to spin the disastrous campaign against Lebanon as a triumph of democracy, followed by most of Election Day spent shrieking about how Obama doesn’t care about Israel. Short of calling him a secret Chinaman, I can’t imagine what the fuck else the Republicans have left.

“Mister President, count back from a hundred for me,” said the fat woman. “One hundred,” said the fat man, “ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety.”

John McCain had a number of severe health problems, all aggravated by his experience as a prisoner of war for the bulk of the conflict in Vietnam. Downed after his twenty-third bombardment mission against North Vietnam, he could do little but cheer as Nixon, elected on the promise to end the war honorably, stepped up the bombardment of Vietnam, extending it quietly to Cambodia.

Some wiseass knew they could count on her when the old man went under, and it hadn’t been fifteen minutes before Belya Revolutsiya had sent out texts to all of its members. The leak, who would remain anonymous to history, honestly thought something good would come of this; that freedom would be spread and the Bear’s iron heel caught in a steel trap. Read more »

So McCain and Palin have been trotting out the asinine canard about Bill Ayers; the slur has always been a little ridiculous, appealing to a convoluted guilt-by-colocation hermeneutic and a kind of racism which is politically dead. ‘Barack Hussein Obama, ergo wooga-booga Mahometan’ aims for a relatively open and well-understood set of fears, but does so in such an obvious and malignant way that it’s actually impossible to do without it backfiring. The Ayers slur, as much as it’s racially charged, relies on associating any politically active black man with radical Marxism – a well-pedigreed bit of right-wing hysteria evolving from the converse, back when being black was regarded as inherently offensive and ‘socialist’ wasn’t automatically abusive. It seems likely that Bill Penn, in pushing the Ayers-radical storyline, chose fairly shrewdly – it lacks even the most basic corraborating detail (the closest anyone can associate the two is sitting on a board together with Republicans, independents, and non-political figures to improve education), and it appeals to something far-fetched enough that someone would really have to be desperate to vote against a black man to connect the dots on it.

The Democratic caucus, owing to a hypertrophied sense of conservative perfidy and backwardness, is profoundly reluctant to accept people for a number of reasons. Feingold would face serious difficulties if he were the only challenger in the field; Frank would be turned down in favor of even some nonentity like Warner, and God forbid we found an actual Arab. The Bradley Effect seems to be much more prominent internally than externally.

But whatever people might think of black people in the aggregate – and it’s true that the conservative part of the electorate is fairly backwards about this – any but the most lurid racists have internalized the meritocratic idea central to America sufficiently that even groups who can be vilified in polite society could still make their way into office. Between that and its relative obscurity, attempting to prove that Obama was the devious protege of the Weathermen by pointing to a picture of him and saying “See? Black!” doesn’t work for anyone who could be expected to vote for a black man to begin with.

All of this has occurred to the Bush/McCain electoral team; what their using the Ayers meme indicates is that their opposition research has turned up nothing and they’re beginning to go into a shrieking panic. The slur, unsurprisingly, gains nothing by Palin’s usual half-baked country-frying; I’m not confident that ‘palling around’ is ever even used the way she meant it, but who knows.

At this point, McCain is down no less than 5 points and possibly as much as 12, he needs to win not only every state currently voting for him but every state leaning towards Obama – especially a seemingly unwinnable Florida and an increasingly hostile Ohio and Virginia – and all he’s got left up his sleeve is a shotgun wedding. This is what it means that he’s throwing shit like this up in the air – he’s having Palin shout about Ayers because it’s less embarrassing than anything else she could do, and that’s saying a lot.

Max Hardcore pays a young masochist to get kicked around for commercial gain, he goes to jail.

John Woo condemns millions of friends, enemies, and citizens of America alike to horrifying torture and death (almost all of it directly and obscenely lascivious and corrupt) primarily to satisfy some kind of sick partisan fealty, he winds up in line for a Presidential Medal of Freedom.

And the election is, of course, now about whether or not the candidate opposed to this sat at the same table as a jumped-up hippie anarchist.

Stop the planet of the apes, I want to get off.

http://slacktivist.typepad.com/slacktivist/2008/09/john-mccain-fri.html
http://slacktivist.typepad.com/slacktivist/2008/09/bad-touch.html

WHAT THE FUCK

edit:

(also: http://www.enterthejabberwock.com/junk/GoTeamRape.jpg)

You just had to go and die on the Fourth of July.

After all that time you spent making America a shittier place, it’s only fitting you’d go and ruin its founding holiday; to clog our papers with obituaries – like the arteries the tobacco lobby (which, hand firmly in ass, darkened North Carolina with your rotting frame for generations) helps to clog all over this green Earth; that you would find some way to make your death as disgusting as your life. That anyone ever mistook you for a human being is a damning indictment on our species; that you were white makes me wish the Irish weren’t these days, or at least that black-face were socially acceptable. I would that Hell existed if only to place you in it, and would more strongly than I do now that Heaven did not just to keep you out of it.

You shat up my country for just shy of eighty-seven years, and if there is any justice in this universe your corpse will just keep on expanding until it bursts, and no coffin ever made will keep the smell of rancid shit from the human waste who come to mourn you.

I’d call you a son of a bitch, Jesse Helms, but Josef Mengele wouldn’t have deserved to give birth to you and Pol Pot wouldn’t deserve to have called you a son. If your mother had the dignity evolution bequeathed to the scarab, she’d have spent every year from 1921 to her all-too-late death suppressing the urge to tear out her own ovaries. God willing, some day we’ll figure out what we can excise to atone ourselves of you.

Via Sadly, No – and, inexplicably, the fucking White House.

When the sun rises again today, it’s certain to shine a little bit less brightly – for we have lost not just its worthiest follower but a man who pierced the darkness of vanity and self-righteousness like no other. A world without him to balance out the evil, self-important assholes – the ones who took ‘politically incorrect’ from him, back when it meant something noble, and twisted it into a badge to crown their shameful, petty tribal hate – is going to be just a little bit darker for it.

Parker and Stone and every other dour fascist who TV execs who still don’t get you signed to ride on your coattails are still around, metastasizing, bound for the Medal of Freedom and old-age home that eluded you, punishing us all for our horrible taste while you rot. I like to think you’d find it funny. You always were a motherfucker.

Rest in peace – and here’s to hoping if there’s anything after this life you’ll figure out how to freak ‘em out there, too.