Archive for August 23rd, 2010
Spaghetti harvesting unicorn riding with Julia Roberts isn't what it's cracked up to be
Julia Roberts is a beautiful idiot.
There, we said it.
The woman is gorgeous, and has a laugh like vaporized gold. We adore it, and years ago one of us had the chance to spend a little time with her here in Chicago, when he was ghost writing cook books for a chic restaurant and gave the pretty woman a tour of the wine cellar. She had an assistant or two with her, and knew absolutely nothing about wine, but cracked a lot of jokes that weren’t terribly funny (though her assistants HOWLED with laughter and slapped themselves on the knees repeatedly, like in a bad high school play) in a way that was charming, actually. There she was, on private time, away from an audience and she still felt the need to be entertaining and charming.
That was endearing. We can’t imagine what life must be like for someone like her, always having strangers come up to her and say things, good or bad, to her face, comment on her weight, what she’s wearing, etc. The line between the private and the personal blurred for her decades ago, and she’s never going to get that old life back. That’s a horrifying thought for us…and we certainly never want to live in a world of yes-men who howl with laughter at things that aren’t funny. That’s how people in the public eye go nuts, and make disastrous mistakes, because those around them keep telling them what a style-setting, fashion icon they are (part of Michelle Antoinette’s problem currently).
But, Julia Roberts is a far-Lefty, and has made numerous asinine comments about things she has absolutely no real knowledge of…things she knows less about than wine (“This is the stuff I like to drink. Lookit how big those bottles are! I could drown in that!” HA HA HA HA HA HA).
So, our opinion of her is impacted by that…but it doesn’t usually keep us from seeing her movies, like the recently opened Eat, Pray, Love (which Panda calls “Eat, Sleep, Forget”).
The movie’s terrible, but it’s actually worth seeing on Netflix (for free) sometime in the future for a few things:
(1) It’s a classic, unintended illustration of something we’ve long called “spaghetti harvesting, unicorn riding”, which is an idiom Robby’s sister Ann-Louise coined in her neverending phase of “finding herself”. A few years ago, Ann-Louise had just broken up with another of her too-old lovers (this one a Miami plastic surgeon originally from Sweden whom we all nicknamed “Dr. Old”, or “Ramses the Decrepit” informally), and didn’t know if she wanted to continue trying to possibly be an actress while only getting cast in low-budget Albanian horror movies (the whole “Scaredy Cats” series, which all of 12 people have seen). So, her big plan was to borrow a small fortune from her mother and father and go to Italy for “a year or two” and take cooking classes, and possibly paint or “model in Milan”.
It was the damn stupidest thing any of us had ever heard, and her brother Robby went back and forth with her for weeks trying to get her to see how ridiculous this was. “But I never got to do a study abroad,” Ann-Louise howled, and Robby reminded her she spent her junior year of college in Moscow. She also did the Semester-at-Sea cruise one summer, and spent the gap between high school graduation and college on a study program in Vatican City (because her mother Patricia thought that would somehow fix her…as John Paul the Great was still alive at the time, and if anyone was up to the job, it was JPII).
“Those didn’t count because Russia is cold and everyone was so mean, and then that boat was just a cruise and it smelled, and then that other thing was with all those nuns and I had to leave when they caught me with that Swiss Guard, who I think they deported. So I never did a real study abroad and I want to because I deserve it”.
Why she deserved this, none of us have ever known. The television and pop culture tell her these things, apparently, and she parrots it back. “I want a study abroad like on TV and I want to live in Italy and know what life is about”.
We imagined her, in her fantasy world, riding unicorns to the spaghetti forest where she would learn how the native Italians used long, whisky pitchforks to capture the fresh, warm, robust pasta and bring it down into the large wicker baskets the old village women used to collect what all the sweaty, young men had harvested that day. Ann-Louise would watch from the saddle of her unicorn, marveling at all the hard work that went into gathering all the locally-grown, organic pasta she would later eat at dinner with all manner of sauces that had magically bubbled out of the ground. “I want to find a river of alfredo sauce,” she’d tell one of the villagers. “Because I deserve it, and I want it, and it should be mine”.
Ultimately, Ann-Louise never went to Italy to harvest spaghetti and unicorn ride, because she was cast in an off-off-off Broadway revamp of “Jennifer Slept Here” (which she’s still trying to get made into a movie, or even a new TV series) that never made it out of previews, but did manage to put her focus back on acting and made her forget about her lack of a REAL non-Russian, non-cruise ship, non-pontif-related study abroad.
In Eat, Sleep, Forget, Julia Roberts is pretty much playing Ann-Louise (which is funny because when casting Ann-Louise in anything, we’d go with Missy Pyle, or Joan Van Ark if the lighting’s good enough). She’s a spoiled travel writer who gets to expense any vacation she wants, including pillaging of the minibar (but just not the way Congressman Aaron Schock does that here in Boystown). Her husband is a man-child who decides to have a different career every month, because he always wanted to be a fireman, an astronaut, a cowboy, a teacher, or a professional basketball star. Because he was seemingly raised in the late-70s/early-80s and went to what we assume is a Leftist-run public school, the man-child is a spaghetti-harvesting-unicorn-rider too. But, two of these perpetual children evidently can’t coexist in a marriage, so Roberts divorces him and decides to spend a year eating in Italy, pretending she’s in a cult in India, and we have no idea what she was up to in Indonesia.
The movie is like watching really bad home movies taken by someone you don’t especially like, who never does anything all that interesting. The best part of the whole thing, in this regard, is a trip Roberts takes to Venice or Naples or It Doesn’t Much Matter and she and a Swedish girl who’s also “finding herself” discover that if they eat too much pizza, they must buy new jeans so that they can eat more pizza. The two of them bond together over this, and there’s a big shopping montage that should have been set to Roy Orbison, because that would have made us so very, very happy (“You work on commission, right? Big mistake. HUGE. Ta ta, have to go shopping now”).
There are many scenes like the one Roberts did in Notting Hill, where she has dinner with people and tells them how sad she is that she is rich, beautiful, famous, and spoiled. Everyone eats too much, then wakes up the next morning (after having passed out in their clothes all over the living room furniture, in food comas) to immediately head back to the still-set table to eat some more.
Ridunkulous.
And kind of gross, really.
We imagine Oprah lives like this too, and there’s an actual toilet set at her dining room table so she never has to get up for anything, and this cycle can just replay day after day after day.
Gross.
But, interesting in the sense that it captures something we don’t like about a good portion of the people in this country, especially those who come from the suburbs and romanticize places like Italy into these spaghetti-harvesting, unicorn-riding fantasy worlds. In the movie, no one appears to ever work, and it’s unclear how they can pay for all of that food, and all the new clothes they need after eating all of the food. At several points in the movie, various able-bodied people who should be working SOMEWHERE are lounging about during broad daylight, waxing poetic about the Italian concept of “doing nothing”.
This is apparently the attitude that has gotten Greece into so much trouble, and what’s been infecting Europe from the Mediterranean up, like gangrene heading north from little piggies, through a leg, and up into the Netherlands and beyond.
“Just do nothing”. All day. Without a care in the world. Take four hour lunches. Maybe don’t even bother to reopen at the end of the day. No one will notice. Make barnyard noises at any woman who passes. Drink so much you make an ass of yourself, because everyone loves a drunk and you will be the most popular man in the town.
We have never subscribed to any of this garbage, and doubt we ever will.
Last night, at dinner over tacos at D.S. Tequila here in Boystown, a big group of people sat down on the patio next to us, clearly wasted, at about 5 o’clock. One of the men was generically foreign, but since we’re not nationality experts, we have no idea what foreign land he was from, but if we had to guess, it would be Italy. He was singing loudly, clumsily spilling things, and talking as if he was at a NASCAR race and needed to be heard over the roar of dozens of engines (and not, in reality, seated in a quiet little oasis between two giant brick buildings in Boystown).
Everyone at the table ate these antics up, except for the fairy’s princess that tagged along in what was otherwise a gay sausagefest. Periodically she’d look over at us, mouth the words “I’m sorry. They’re so drunk” and generally give the universally-recognized shoulder-shrug gesture of “What are you going to do?”.
We love to have a good time, and we love seeing people out having a good time. Last year, we lost our dear friend Lionel to cancer, so we know full well how short life is, and how fast Death can pluck any of us off a table and slam us six feet into the ground. You should indeed relish every meal. You should always order dessert. You should eat every bite on your fork and slurp every morsel off your spoon with gusto. But we don’t think anyone should be a loud and obnoxious ass about it.
But, so many suburbanites we know would have LOVED to have been at the table with that foreign man, as he carried on like a fool, spilled things everywhere, and made an ass of himself. “What passion!”, “What life!”, “He really knows how to live!”.
Panda suggested these people would probably also love to have dinner with a monkey. They’d marvel at the various things the monkey would put in its mouth, and the faces and noises it would make. They’d giggle and cheer when the monkey did something ridiculous, or when it would try to bite someone or rape someone’s leg (or small service animal). “I know, because I used to have a monkey, and people loved eating with the monkey, and fighting the monkey for bread, and they’d keep loving it until the monkey started flinging feces. That’s usually when the check would come, right after the s*** started flying and then the monkey suddenly wasn’t so amusing. They really can bite, too. Mean little f*****s”.
Ann-Louise, and Julia Robert’s character in this movie, had the fantasy of going off to a magical place where everyone gets to be monkeys, and no one has to work, and days are all spent eating and napping and then waking up to eat some more and then generally indulging in whatever whim comes next.
All of us get this same experience, and it’s called infancy, toddlerhood, and preschool.
After that, when we hit kindy, and we have to get out our crayons and start coloring in the lines and making it through the day without any uh-ohs, we’ve mostly had enough of being Eloi.
Not so for Ann-Louise. Not so for Roberts’ character (whose name we never did learn from the movie). Not so for the millions of suburbanites who dream of this spaghetti-harvesting, unicorn-riding life.
We have no idea where this nonsense comes from in our culture, but we bet it’s linked somehow to the Left’s idolization of Europe. Maybe this garbage is what sucks so many into Democrat lockstep voting, because it’s what these fools think of when the Left starts advocating for America to be more Europeanized. Perhaps they are thinking we’re going to get unlimited pizza eating and free unicorn rides to the spaghetti forest, instead of VAT, crushing deficits, and a backwards, insufferable, bureaucracy that operates healthcare death panels.
It’s imperative, going forward, that we collectively find some way to burst this fantasy bubble. Because there sure were a lot of young women in the audience for this movie who left saying “I want to do that too! I deserve to go away for a year and find myself!”.
We’re all about following your bliss and finding a way to make a living doing what you love, but there has to be a line drawn somewhere. Please tell us if we are wrong about that.
(2) The other small bit that makes this movie actually worth seeing comes near the very end, after we wanted to walk out a dozen or so times. But, something, SOMETHING, told us to just sit there and wait, because there’d be redemption for the price of admission.
And it came in the form of this throwaway line Roberts had, as she was sitting at a desk writing a letter to one of the men she’d been involved with on her adventures. She started talking about something called “Quest Theory”, whereby she believed that we are all on quests, and that everything in our lives is a clue that should lead us to where we need to go. Everyone we meet is either there to help or to hinder us on that quest, and we’ll only know what we were questing for when we get there and achieve it.
As ridiculous as Julia Roberts is, and as stupid as some of the things she as a person has said, we actually really like this “Quest Theory” concept.
You can plug and chug whatever else you want into it, and add healthy doses of religion if you want to believe in a higher power guiding that quest, but this little website right here is something we never intended to do, and something that has at times been quite a challenge for us to maintain, but we keep pouring our heart and souls into it because we feel that SOMETHING wants or needs us to keep going for some reason that will become clear in the future.
All of you who read us every day and chime in either in comments or direct emails help or hinder that quest, as the case may be. There are a lot more helpers and angels than there are trolls and goblins, thankfully, but if we look at HillBuzz through the lens Roberts provided, we do see a path that we are on, leading us to someplace in the future where this little site will play a major role in a big battle for this country.
We personally feel — from the bottom of our hearts — that our ultimate mission, our quest, will prove to be that of heralds and gatherers. We think we were quested with the challenge of finding a way to broadcast an SOS for America, and to see who we could get to answer that call. Someone out there reading this site every day will save this country from ruin. We are 100% certain of that.
Someone who was energized to do something for America because of the connection that person made to us at HB (and to all of you readers) will be the deciding factor in the war that’s being waged for the heart and soul of this nation.
We believe a future president is reading this site. We think future Senators, Congresspeople, Governors, etc. are reading too. Some of these people might be children, so it could be their parents who are reading, but things are being filtered down to them that originate here in Boystown…things we believe will save the country.
So, we’re a light house, and a 21st century morse code beacon in the dark, and that’s what our quest was to become…with the quest continuing into the future to amp up our reach and become whatever it is American needs us to become.
We also think part of that quest was to become this surreal bridge between conservatism and the gay community, whereby we generally infuriate each side day to day in some regard, but in the end we serve the purpose of challenging stereotypes on both sides and blurring all the lines the Left has so carefully set up to divide people.
Every day is a challenge to take things to the next level, to survive the assaults from the trolls, and to further the reach deeper into the country…to activate more people who are needed to stand up when America’s in distress.
We’ve said it before, and we’ll emphasize it here: America will be saved my moms, grandmas, aunts, sisters, daughters and the men who love and support them.
Our roll has always been to herald the arrival of the Momma Grizzlies and their crew…before we even had a word for “Momma Grizzlies”.
And, we’ve reached a point, because of the constant letters of affirmation from many of you out there, that indeed God has sent us on this quest, because the unlikeliest guys from the most unlikely of places are just the sort He, with his sense of humor and irony, would send as PUMAs to the lions in search of all those grizzlies.
Great Merciful Zeus, we love this country. And we accept readily any role we can play in a quest to save it.
So, it’s funny this “clue” was left for us to find in a movie that we didn’t really want to see, but only saw because of that tour of a wine cellar one of us gave to a very polite actress with the world’s greatest laugh. It’s comical to think of what leads you to anything. If not for that encounter with Roberts, and those brief moments with her, we would have passed on this spaghetti-harvesting, unicorn-riding flick, and would have missed out on the concept of “Quest Theory”, which we think’s going to give us a new insight into what we do on a daily basis.
There are, apparently, clues hidden everywhere.
Even in Hollywood dreck aimed primarily for the overindulged, underdisciplined Ann-Louises of the world.
BRAINSTORMING: "Gay Marriage" alternative verbiage ideas
Last night at Sidetracks, during the Retro 70s portion of the night, The Captain & Tennile came up on the screen and a big, bearded guy who may or may not have been Zach Galifianakis (or possibly the recently deranged Joaquin Phoenix) shouted, “Hey, lookit, it’s Kiki Dee!”, so proud of himself that he “knew” who that woman was.
Uh, no. That’s not Miss Pink Overalls A Singin’ With Elton John In Her Bowl Haircut. That’s Toni Tennile. But, does a 70s, female singer by another name sing any less sweet?
This kind of thing happens all the time at Sidetracks, but usually during Showtunes night, because so many of the women in those old musical clips have been dead for decades, and guys in their 20s and 30s have a hard time differentiating between Esther Williams, Ethel Merman, Kate Smith (whom they call “Kate Bush”, we think because it’s the “God Bless America” clip and Ronald Reagan’s in it from one of his war movies, so hence the “Bush” brain-fark), and even Shelly Winters (for crying out loud).
Their performances stand the test of time, no matter what they end up being called by the assembled gays (and their fairy’s princesses) in the bar. For those who know who Esther Williams is, they’ll never make the mistake of calling her Ethel Merman…and no one seems especially inclined to make a big deal of it and correct the younger gays who can’t tell the two apart.
Which got us thinking about verbiage, the power of words, and lines drawn in the sand with naming conventions.
Sidetracks is owned by Art Johnson, who we consider to be Chicago’s Harvey Milk. The man’s just plain awesome, even if we don’t agree with him on everything. He’s humble, and doesn’t do very much press, but he’s the heavy lifter here in Boystown…always putting pressure on corporations in Chicago to support LGBTQ charities and for the big name politicians and celebrities to come out for our fundraising events. He’s the driving force behind Equality Illinois, and is one of the people who are dead-set on accepting nothing other than “gay marriage” as terminology for marital equality.
This is where we disagree with Johnson, while remaining so grateful for all he does for the community.
Equality Illinois, and other gay organizations coast to coast, don’t realize the problem with their initiatives is the word “marriage” being co-opted by the gay community when it has an existing meaning to people in the religious community. “Gay marriage” is a problem for many because of the second word, not necessarily the first.
In the year 2010, we think you’d be hard-pressed to find many Americans who don’t accept the reality that some men are going to live with other men and some women are going to live with other women, and no one is going to be able to change that. This has, actually, always been reality…but it’s pretty hard to hide from this and deny it these days. That’s thanks to gay pioneers in the 70s and 80s, and people in Johnson’s generation, who came out of the closet and in many cases dragged others with them, so that gays were visible to mainstream America.
Just as visible as interracial couples, and all the other pairings that were censored out in the days of black and white movies and visually restrictive media.
Where we think that generation above us fails is in adapting to the modern age and quicksilver culture, especially in terms of brand management and market research. Equality Illinois is an organization that shouts itself blue in the face demanding “gay marriage” in a blue state like Illinois, but makes little ground because it’s not listening to mainstream America…which keeps sending signals that it accepts male-male and female-female couples (even if it doesn’t think those are any more ideal than interracial pairings) but is averse to the word “marriage” being used for these unions.
At Sidetracks last night, we thought about all the words that are made up in the gay community all the time, to describe things that don’t exist in the larger straight world.
For instance, the aforementioned “fairy’s princess” is a word we ourselves started using a few years ago because we didn’t like the pejorative-sounding “fag hag” or “fruit fly” to describe straight women who like to hang out in gay bars (and then wonder why they are single). There was clearly a need for a word to describe these women, and things that rhyme are usually the easiest to catch on…hence we were stuck with “fag hag” for so long…and those poor, misguided girls had to be “hags”, when they are almost always anything but. “Fairy’s princess” hasn’t caught-on nationwide, yet, but we hope it does at some point. This way no one has to be a hag or a fly to be around us, and instead those women can be princesses whenever they enter our magical little world of strong frozen drinks in rainbow colors and endless homage to a pantheon of divas up on the video screens.
There’s also a “fruit loop”, which is a term for what you do when you first walk into a gay bar to ascertain what’s going on that night, who’s there, and which bartenders will give you the best drinks. You step inside, then do a complete loop of the bar, hitting every room, saying a quick hello to people you know (but not doing a stop-and-chat, or the gay equivalent, which is a block-and-hug…because you literally block the aisle so other people can’t walk passed, while you are busy hugging Frederick or Blaine or whomever, oblivious to how rude you are being), making sure you know which bartender you are going to get your drinks from (because he/she is either really good at what they do, gives you your third drink free, or doesn’t have a long line at his/her bar), and generally scoping out where you and your friends are going to sit or stand. You end up back at the front at the end of your loop, at which point you then head to wherever you’ve determined would be the best place to hold court that night. Periodically you re-loop to see who else has made it to the bar, and if you have any exes you either want to mess with or ignore, the latter happening if you look especially good that night.
So, we gays are great at coming up with names for things that need names, but have never been dubbed this, that, or the other.
Why hasn’t the gay community done this with:
(1) What to call two men in a civil union?
(2) What to call two women in a civil union?
Because two straight people in a civil union are called “married”, in that they have then gone on to have a “marriage” ceremony in a religious venue. That’s called “marriage”.
Two strictly non-religious, or usually religious-averse, straight people (typically of a Leftist bent) proudly call themselves domestic partners or common-law spouses when they want to avoid the religious connection to “marriage”. We know quite a few straight couples, legally joined, in California who make this firm distinction because they want no connection with a church.
Sometimes, you hear “life partner”, “special friend”, “lover”, “boyfriend/girlfriend”, or just “partner” used for two gay people in a committed relationship, whether or not they have any legal paperwork backing that up.
We think there should be terminology coined to differentiate gays who have taken those legal steps, and have drawn up the contracts and other paperwork to commit to each other.
We think those words should be something FABULOUS, because typically when these gay guys and lesbians take this step, they have an awesome party that’s better than Showtunes night at Sidetracks, where everyone dresses up and a huge amount of money is pumped into the special events economy.
Typically, in dressing up, these men and women go all-out, and wear their best new Armani, Dolce & Gabanna, Vera Wang, you name it.
So, it occurred to us there’s a potential for taking those designer brands, and the occasions they are worn at, and solving the whole “gay marriage” impasse by co-opting some of these labels.
Maybe two guys who commit to each other and have a big ceremony for the joining could be “Dolce&Gabanna-ed”, or just “gabannaed”, for short.
Maybe two lesbians could be “BadgleyMischkaed”, or just “mischkaed”.
You know damn well something like this could indeed catch-on, because the gay community is all about the labels and the cute.
“Hey, did you hear? Tony and Todd got gabannaed over the weekend. It was so choice. Primo everything. I got so drunk, I thought I was Liza Minnelli”.
“Did you get the invite in the mail yet? Lisa and Becky are getting mischkaed. They’re registered at Home Depot, of course. I don’t know what they will ever do with all those power tools, but God love the two of them”.
Maybe “gabannaed” and “mischkaed” won’t be the FINAL terms, just like we hope “fag hag” and “fruit fly” will eventually give way to “fairy’s princess” or something even better, but we think purpose is served by using these made-up words to take the debate away from the sensitive wording of “marriage”.
What a lot of gay people don’t understand is that feelings are hurt when “marriage” is seemingly taken away from people who believe in God and their Church and don’t want to see their traditions co-opted by others, and made into something it is not. One of the most disgusting and obnoxious things we ever saw was back in the 90s when one of us was an event planner in Cleveland, and a white, hippy, overindulged, middle-aged pair from Shaker Heights decided to get married…and have a big, Indian style wedding with the bride in a sari and the groom in a giant Captain Nemo turban.
It was ludicrous. They had a groom’s cake shaped like one of the Hindu elephant gods, with the main wedding cake a vanilla Taj Mahal, served an Indian buffet that also included a briskett (because the bride was Jewish and her relatives demanded it), and just cherry-picked whatever they felt was “Indian” and looked pretty for their wedding.
Having been to an actual Indian wedding, where Indian people were married according to their traditions, it was absurd to watch these two whiter-than-white hippies flounce about making a mockery of Indian culture.
The equivalent would have been to have a “black wedding” with everyone eating watermelon and fried chicken, everyone in the pews raising their hands and “testifying” excitedly, and the bride and groom dressed like gangsta rappers — because this is what ignorant people would think was the flashiest cliff’s notes of the black community, and most interesting for a big party.
Shameful.
And this is what we try to tell the gay community it’s doing when it takes “marriage”, which is a religious sacrament, and tries to twist and pervert it into something it is not, to the chagrin and offense of the millions of people who love God, His Church, and everything that means to them.
We’ve yet to meet a truly religious person who would ever deny any of us happiness in life.
We’ve yet to meet at truly religious person who would ever say we have to live alone, never have anyone special in our lives, or have to forfeit property we worked hard for, because we can’t secure it legally with a person we chose to spend our time on this Earth with.
No one who loves God would ever stand in the way of someone else’s true happiness or prevent them from knowing joy, peace, and comfort in this world. That’s not what Jesus taught, and it’s not what God communicates to His children today. That is most certainly not what the Bible means or stands for.
But, we don’t think it’s appropriate for two big, bearded bears to nance around in a mock cathedral wearing big, flouncy, Princess Diana wedding dresses while the Chicago Gay Men’s Chorus sings “Going to the Chapel”. We don’t think two lesbians should dress up in tuxes and demand all the trappings of a Catholic wedding, when that’s not what the sacrament of marriage involves.
We also don’t think the gay community has a right to take baptism, confession, communion, confirmation, and last rites and cherry-pick what they want from those sacraments, creating chimeras of existing traditions and whatever the gay community wants to do that day.
Though many won’t want to admit this, religion, especially the Catholic Church, is mysterious and exotic…maybe more so than India was to those hippies. Most Americans grew up with some sort of religious tradition, and those of us who grew up Catholic had a heaping portion of that…which never leaves your DNA. Elements of this exotic religious past seem destined for any ceremonies gay couples would have…just like a lot of things Americans do have roots in British tradition. There has to be a way for gays to get the cultural, exotic, and symbolic elements they want without being offensive to those who remain part of the religion these things are borrowed from.
The stars and stripes have elements similar to the Union Jack, but the American flag is decidedly different, has a different name, and does not carry any impression it is masquerading as or attempting to mock the flag flown over Britain.
And that’s where this verbiage impasse comes in.
That’s where our “gabanna” and “mischka” terminology plays its part.
Brainstorm other words in the thread below, or go on a whole other tangent if you want. For too long now we’ve been fighting the same culture wars over and over again, where the Leftist Media pits the religious community against the gays, and vice versa over the word “marriage”.
We think we could play a role in ending the impasse by getting creative…and hope you can play a part in that too.
UK Telegraph article about Obama wanting to become "post-American, post-president" in 2013
The UK Telegraph is still better than any newspaper we have in this country, even when it’s drivel, like it is in this article about Dr. Utopia, our illustrious president, wanting to become a “post-American, post-president” and not really caring about winning re-election in 2012.
Instead, the article hints, Obama is very much looking forward to become a black Jimmy Carter — and serving as a national embarrassment on the world stage for the rest of his life.
There are many in the “global community” who have made good use of the useful fool that is Carter. He is a rabid anti-Semite who is always good for some slam against Israel and yet another glorification of “the Palestinians”, whatever those are. Since “Palestine” is a made-up convention and as real as Candyland, and the people who are “Palestinian” to Carter are mostly Jordanian in reality, Carter is just using them as convenient props to take the swings at the Jews that he loves popping off.
But, this doesn’t make Carter loved anywhere. Even those using him, as a former US president, to further the anti-Israel message they want to send don’t really respect him. They, too, know he is a deranged fool. A walking failure. Someone so much of a loser that the only reason he’s probably still alive is that neither Heaven nor Hell want him, and Nixon won’t share purgatory’s waiting room with him.
Is this what Obama really wants, to become the new Carter, as Carter prepares to depart the mortal plane?
Of course not. Dr. Utopia believes he is so loved, so adored, that he will rise to some position of global prominence, and become a President or Emperor of the World.
It is at that point that this egomaniac’s delusions of grandeur will collapse around him.
He is not going to become UN Secretary General because the UN will never allow an American to hold that position. Perhaps, as a means around that, Obama will renounce his US citizenship in the future and start carrying a Kenyan passport…because African nationals ARE able to become Secretary General, as Kofi Anan proved. We doubt this would work out any better for Obama than a similar game has thus far worked out for Wyclef Jean in his bid to become president of Haiti. It’s just not going to happen, no matter how much the overindulged megacelebrity wants it.
That leaves Obama to travel the world slamming America for the rest of his life, collecting big checks to talk about how evil this country is, and how much he tried to “save it” by destroying it. Perhaps he’ll always find work in the Middle East, and Saudi Arabia especially, for this sort of thing, but we think his general appeal will quickly fade away in most parts of the world in 2013.
Because, you see, as much as some of these countries hate it, the world needs a strong America leading the way, being both good cop and bad cop when it needs to be, and doing all the things the rest of these countries in the UN have never been able to do. We’re the only superpower in the world for a reason, and that’s largely because we’re the only country that can get things together. We’re so great, in fact, that we’ll survive the Obama presidency and everything this man is trying to do from the Oval Office to tear the country apart and render us a Third World wannabe.
The economy globally is going to get much worse before it gets any better. America is going to be needed as an engine to set things right and get things back on course. In the midst of the chaos to come, the LAST thing people are going to want to hear is more of Obama’s “blame America, hate America” shtick. It would be like paying hundreds of dollars to see a live performance of Crank Yankers. That prank call puppet show had it’s moment of popularity…but it’s stale, irritating, and unfunny now. As unfunny as the meta prank call the Obama presidency has been in this the Golden Age of Hope and Change.
We envision Obama being majorly disappointed in the years ahead, as historians are forced to accept the reality that everything the Left did in his presidency was a miserable failure. For thirty years, Leftists have wandered in the wilderness plotting what they would do if only they could take over the US government. Well, they had their chance, and all of their theories are being refudiated. You betcha.
And when our 45th president takes office, and she reverses all the damage Obama has done, and Americans (and the world) see that the Left’s pet projects and obsessions benefit no one, then Dr. Utopia is not going to be sitting as pretty as he now thinks.
He’s going to be seen as a worse president than Carter — and a colossal disappointment to the Left that put all of their hopes and dreams into him. The Left is crazy. Crazy people have a difficult time confronting harsh realities. They are emotional, irrational, and vengeful. When they’ve realized that everything they pushed failed, miserably, and the majority of Leftist thought is discredited, they are not going to blame the thought itself, or all of their long-hatched plans…they are going to blame Obama for blowing it.
Who knows what the price will be for this, but we can’t imagine these trolls, orcs, and goblins of the Left are going to be too happy with President Palin in the White House and the massive hit in public support Democrats will have taken during Obama’s brief tenure. The Democrats might never recover from the civil war Obama’s caused in the party, or the mask-ripping he’s done that has convinced such a large number of Americans that there really is no such thing as a “moderate Democrat”. It’s like finding one of those “moderate Muslims” the Leftist-controlled media is always talking about. Where are these people? Who are they? Are they all off riding unicorns together somewhere, in hiding, so beautiful and magical that if any of us were to ever spot them they’d all turn to pixie dust and blow away on a gentle summer’s breeze?
A big part of Obama’s legacy will be people like us, who were Democrats for decades, and blind party voters, but who will more likely than not never pull a lever for a Democrat as long as we will. The Obama presidency has made us realize that Democrats in office are bad for the country, because the Leftist wing of the Democrat party really calls the shots, and it hates America. Thus, voting Democrat is voting against the best interests of the nation in almost every circumstance. It should not be something the majority of Americans ever do again.
And Obama will be a cautionary tale for many years to come for what happens when conservatives sit their butts home or play purist games before an election. Too many people forgot the lessons of having Carter in office. Now, a whole new generation sees just how bad things can be with a Democrat in the White House who is not a Clinton. It’s been a painful lesson to learn, but it’s there for anyone who wants to wake up and see the truth.
As for Obama himself, the man, we can’t imagine a future for him that does not involve Hawaii. We believe firmly he has Parkinsons’ disease, made worse by all of the cocaine he abused for many years while living in California and New York (not to mention whatever he picked up from his visits to bathhouses like Man’s Country in Chicago). All of those press visits to gyms during the campaign, and all of those shots of him playing basketball with Reggie Love, Kal Penn, and all the other men he so enjoys hanging out with, were meant to paint Obama as being the portrait of health. It’s what campaigns do when someone has a chronic illness and they want to keep the true nature of that from getting out. So, they plant the “he plays basketball, he works out a lot” meme into the public consciousness and hope it sticks as permanent narration. Which, it largely has.
But, we don’t see Obama on the world stage commanding large crowds while he bashes America. We think he will be too sick, too weak to do that. Instead, he’ll become a kind of recluse, on his beautiful estate in Hawaii, not far from where his presidential library will be built. We can’t help picturing him in a floral print muumuu, in his wheelchair, with all sorts of pool boys, cabana guys, and shirtless groundsmen attending to him as he bakes in the sun, struggling to dictate his latest ramblings into a tape recorder for whatever book he’s writing next (which, like Carter’s, few will ever read).
Michelle Antoinette’s off somewhere enjoying herself without him in this future, happy for the first time in her adult life. We think a large part of Michelle’s problem, and why she’s always scowling and projecting such negativity, is that she’s the beard for a closeted gay man who is much crazier than she is. But, she wanted all the trappings of royalty, and she’s got them, and will have them for the rest of her life. At some point after they leave the White House, we think Michelle might actually evolve into a fun, lively, and general hoot of a woman. Maybe she’ll become more like her mother, Mrs. Robinson, who seems very nice, actually. A lot of women in bad marriages (or sham marriages, as the case may be) don’t come into their own until after their husbands are gone, or incapacitated in some way. It might take a decade or two, but eventually we might have a happy, sassy, joy to watch former First Lady emerge from the scowling, spendthrift brute currently on vacation yet again somewhere on the taxpayers’ dime.
We can’t imagine a future where Obama’s seen as the Lightbringer or Messiah his cultists in the media proclaimed him to be back in 2008. His policies are wrong. His hubris is pumped up not by achievement but by the wishes and dreams of the Left. His arrogance and anti-Americanism and his complete lack of empathy for the American people are painfully tangible.
It’s going to be as crushing for him to ultimately accept all of this as it’s going to be for his Parkinsons’ to put him in that wheelchair.
It’s going to be a lot like Richard Nixon in the Frost/Nixon film. On the estate, living in his own little world, seeing very few people, save for those who are sure to dote on him.
Except Nixon didn’t keep trying to have the Stanford men’s water polo team over for clothing-optional sleepover pool parties, where he’d shout “Speedo! Speedo! Speedo!” as loud as his crippled, weak body would allow.
THAT’S going to be Obama’s post-presidency, somewhere near Honolulu.
Back on the mainland, America’s going to be just fine. President Palin will have her terms, followed hopefully by President Allen West…the nation’s first competent, America-loving, successful black president. America will survive Obama, very well in fact.
But, Democrats will not survive him. The Left will not survive him. He’s going to cripple them, in the end, the way Parkinsons’ will cripple his own body.
And America will be better off for all of it, truth be told.
Monday Open Thread: August 23, 2010
What’s on your minds this Monday?
What are people talking about in your part of the country?
Have you seen Democrats take a hit in the polls yet over their support for the Ground Zero Victory Mosque?
Have you read, like we have, that the project cannot go forward unless ConEd sells the Muslims a building it owns? If this is true, then we have a new avenue for stopping this abomination…pressuring ConEd to not sell, or finding a pork-processor, bikini-maker, or gay bathhouse that could buy the building from ConEd and pay more than the Muslims will. If ConEd does not sell to the highest bidder, then it’s discriminating against the other entities that would want that building. Just imagine having a branch of Steamworks or Man’s Country right next to where that that Ground Zero Victory Mosque is supposed to be (Obama would be so very delighted, but not so much for his brethren).
