2004-09-30 - 1:30 a.m.

I meant to put this up last week but getting bitch slapped by another hurricane kind of set me back. Fuckers. Like the goddamn women in my life: never had trouble with one for years then BAM, four show up to fuck up your PS2 gaming of “Secret Weapons Over Normandy.”

So tomorrow (or rather tonight) Kerry goes toe-to-toe with Bush. Normally I wouldn’t care since I feel that contemporary politics is merely the fine art of picking who gets to fuck you over for another four years and hoping that you get the guy who won’t towel off on your cheek. But you know, I kind of got personally involved. Last week I went to see the John and John show roll into town.

Now, because I am the hard man of American letters, I naturally showed up in my Outlaw Journalist fiction suit: black linen, summer weight with a loose enough fit to hide my many weapons with which I planned to inflict on the political whore mongers in attendance. Indeed, as I walked to the arena, smoking my Turkish cigs, I hopped that the Waterhead Blues coming for their lib fest and the dick-for-brains Reds coming to protest would get into it and was almost reward by the sight of some shaven headed tattooed redneck getting screamed at by politically active Puerto Rican woman. Watching these poor fools, smoking away, laughing at the collection of doomed humanity who actually think they make a difference, chasing a viagra pipe dream that they’re not as impotent as Kofi Annon’s moral blandishments. The bespectacled little activist girls looking bookish and severe in a pornographic way just by the angle of their clipboards. The little right wing protesters far far too young to conservatives (damn, in my day, youth of the nation knew it was their right to be weird and liberal. Time enough to be a republican sell out when you get married and sell your soul to GM and buy a house in Gross Pointe like the good little capitalisteriat you were taught to be). The union men and the school marms. HA! Like these poor doomed fuckers had any kind of a voice. It was almost enough to make me want to unsling my bowel disruptor and shoot the lot, saving the powers that be the trouble of drowing them in their own shit.

The best part where the button hawkers, selling their little badges of true hate and false love. Capitalism. How predictable. You’re all getting ass fucked and more, you actually paid extra for the sodomy.

So I ghosted in to the rally, and saw a rare sight: a bunch of liberals who were actually proud and not ashamed of their beliefs. How un-American. After all, aren’t we a nation built on the principal of shaming people into believing (or giving lip service to) what we want them to? I wandered a bit, people watching (hoping the two hot blondes grooving to the canned pop music would start to make out. It’s the liberal in me. And the conservative) striking up conversations with high schoolers, young profs, an elderly Pakistani woman. Nice people, true believers. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that they were doomed. I couldn’t bear to say Look, it’s four more years of Bush. You know it. I know it. Kerry is the Dem’s sacrificial lamb on the altar of the Redneck God Slim Jim Pabst Nascar NRA. The morons run this country and they love this guy. He’s like the 700 Club, JAG, Blue Collar Comedy Tour all rolled into one and he makes the moron majority cum like…well, like they’re jerking off to episodes of JAG. Or the thought of going out and hunting deer with an assault rifle with a bayonet. He’s gonna win and we’re all going to have to put up with 4 more years of the beast and hope that in 2004, they repeal the ban on third terms so we can get Clinton back because at least, he wasn’t a complete and dribble of total ass juice.

But you know, something happened. As I watched the crowd grow, and heard their optimism, saw the crosssection of humanity and then, when I saw John boy and John boy get up on stage, I have to admit, I wanted to believe. Edwards…my god, I swear the women were about to throw their panties on stage. And Kerry, didn’t have the whole Kennedy rockstar mojo going but still, I found myself cheering.

I even bought a goddamn button.

So tonight, I’m going to be watching. And cheering.

I want to believe.

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