Best of Hillbuzz
Death Does Not Win
His truth keeps marching on.
Scribble this down somewhere in your heart for a day when you really need to hear it: DEATH DOES NOT WIN.
Whether someone you loved struggled for ages with some disease or discomfort — or whether that person was plucked from the Earth unexpectedly at a young age — DEATH DOES NOT WIN.
In Heaven, the ones you love are reconstituted in love just as you expect to see them, protected and cherished in the company of angels who’ve waited forever to meet them.
Meanwhile, inside YOU something magical has happened.
While Death celebrates and dances on a grave somewhere, inside of YOU the people you love live on indelibly…and the good that you do…all the things you create…all the people you touch in your lives…gain a small part of the people you loved too.
Death can’t win, because Death is not powerful enough to destroy a person’s spirit or ever erase their memory from those who’ve been positively impacted by their well-lived lives.
Remember this.
Take strength in it.
Count on it.
DEATH DOES NOT WIN.
Go out into the world and secure your own place in immortality by making a difference in something that matters to you and becoming for others what the people you cherish are for you.
Love conquers all.
What Would Andrew Breitbart Do?
Yesterday, my boyfriend Justin and I were driving to Springfield, Illinois with our friend Penny, who was visiting Chicago from California. We pulled into a rest stop somewhere near Pontiac and while Penny used the facilities, Justin eyed cupcakes and chips and told me he was hungry. I saw a Wendy’s sign in the distance and — not having had Wendy’s for years since they’re so scarce in Chicago — I suggested we drive across the road when Penny rejoined us and get a breakfast sandwich or something. When we got over there, I hopped out of the car and tried the door but it was locked, since evidently Wendy’s serves no breakfast. Walking back, I saw Penny in the backseat crying with a look of absolute horror on her face that I knew couldn’t be attached to a Wendy’s being closed.
Andrew Breitbart had died, and this is where I was when I heard the horrible, world-changing news.
For the rest of the drive to the Lincoln Presidential Museum, the three of us told Breitbart stories. Penny had met him a few times at book signings or speaking events out in California. I’d run into him twice at different political things I’d gone to and had spoken on the phone with him twice, one call stretching out for a good two hours. Neither of us could hardly say we knew Andrew, but both of us loved having him in the world and understood how important he was in the role of national gadfly, particularly since few conservatives seem to understand how important it is to challenge the Tolerant Left every day and expose its glaring hypocrisies.
It was surreal to walk through the Lincoln Museum thinking about losing Andrew at the age of 43 while looking at exhibits dedicated to another great man gone far too soon, before he’d accomplished everything he surely would have accomplished. This was especially poignant in rooms that focused on the national grief after Lincoln’s death or in parts of exhibits dedicated to the Lincolns’ own mourning over the loss of their sons. I’m reminded again of Bishop T.D. Jakes’ sermon at Whitney Houston’s recent funeral when he loudly exclaimed that DEATH DOES NOT WIN. No matter how sorrowful we feel when someone dear to us is lost — or how gleeful and celebratory the forces of Death, Darkness, and Despair seem in that occasion — Death does not win because Love conquers all and what that person meant to you or what he or she stood for while alive will echo into eternity in the hearts and minds of those who knew (or knew of) him or her.
While Penny and I watched a video showing the great battles of the Civil War up on a screen, and the territory held by the Northern and Southern armies ebbed and flowed through the years of the conflict, Justin focused on something in an adjacent exhibit where a hundred or so small portraits hung in glory on a bright red wall. There, in a shiny gold frame, Justin immediately spotted a photograph of George Thomas, nicknamed “The Rock of Chickamauga”. “Who does that look like?”, Justin asked Penny and me:
It was the spitting image of Andrew Breitbart.
Chances are that Justin would never have noticed this if Andrew had not died hours earlier and we hadn’t spent the last two hours talking about him.
I personally take this as a powerful sign that DEATH HAS NOT WON.
Across oceans of time, this old Civil War photo of a man who had the same cheeky expression as Breitbart and that same twinkle in his eye popped into our site in a moment where the three of us felt so lost and in shock.
I’m taking it as a reminder that Andrew Breitbart’s spirit endures, and is all around us if we choose to see it.
The tone for the rest of our day was set after that. Death did not win; instead, the love we had for Andrew endured and manifested into a sustained discussion on what we could do to keep Andrew’s mission and spirit alive. When we left the Museum and started our walk over to the Lincolns’ home, I turned my phone back on and saw all the texts and emails from people shocked over Andrew’s death. Amongst them were some from my friend Megan Fox, who agreed we need to double our efforts investigating what’s going on in Chicago’s public schools and what indoctrination efforts are underway to rot children’s minds. I saw a message from Sharon Meroni talking about the next thing that we had to do for Defend the Vote efforts here in Illinois, to stop voter fraud in the belly of the most corrupt state in the union. I had a voicemail from Larry Sinclair, who turned out to be one of the last people to ever interview Andrew Breitbart alive (if not the very last one) asking for help in getting a story out.
I haven’t checked yet, but I’m sure the Tolerant Left is saying all sorts of vulgar things about Andrew Breitbart’s passing. No doubt, many Leftists are posting on Facebook how much they wish they could urinate or defecate on his dead body or do all sorts of vile things to his corpse — since they were too afraid of the man in life to ever dream of anything like that while he was alive to smack back at them. There is a true and sustained mental illness in the Tolerant Left that manifests as its own signature scent of evil; in Breitbart-style, I intend to screengrab every vile celebration of Breitbart’s death I spot on The Tolerant Left and code it with Search Engine Optimization so that many years from now when the Leftists who gleefully posted that they’d love to do this or that to Breitbart’s dead body apply for a job they really want, some prospective employer doing a background check will be able to see what they said on March 1st, 2012 and evaluate whether or not they want someone who speaks like that in a position in their firm. Andrew Breitbart was all about ensuring consequences for the Tolerant Left’s actions — and this shall continue even though Breitbart himself is now gone.
Andrew Breitbart used to hold the Tolerant Left accountable every single day, especially when they said terrible and vicious things about himself: he retweeted their hateful attacks and mocked them for being so evil.
This, above everything else, is what I most admired about Andrew — his ability to never, ever allow the vile attacks from the Tolerant Left to get to him. I found that so remarkable because in the four years that I’ve been running this site and have been writing politically I’ve sustained more than a few attacks of my own and have never been able to withstand them as effortlessly as Andrew. Part of one of the conversations he and I had focused on this, and the only advice he gave me on the subject was that if I wasn’t making these lunatics crazy and causing them to spew such hatred my way then I wasn’t doing my job. “You know something’s effective if you make them swear up a storm and they say they want to kill you,” he said.
It’s a crushing blow that I’ll never get to talk to him again because there’s so much more I wanted to learn from him. It’s absolutely horrifying that this remarkable man will not be with us through the general election and will not be able to deliver the smackdown that he surely would have given Barack Obama and the Tolerant Left between now and November.
Folks, it’s up to all of us to pick up that slack and make sure we routinely ask ourselves “What would Andrew Breitbart do?”.
He was on this Earth for just 43 years, and he was only just beginning to dominate politics in a big way by putting absolute terror into the hearts of the Tolerant Left and Cocktail Party GOP establishment alike. His mission is unfulfilled…so today I hope all of you who considered yourselves fans of Breitbart’s now look to yourselves as his successors.
“What would Andrew Breitbart do?” — that’s a mighty great way to start each day.
He’d surely be taking the fight to the Tolerant Left in some way, and would have a dozen or so plans in motion at any given time.
If a few thousand of those who loved him in life work a littler harder now and engage the Tolerant Left a little more creatively than we ever did before, then each of us in a small way will become a mini-Breitbart…and together, collectively, the Breitbart spirit will be as strong as ever — if not even stronger.
Justin’s big on the Lord of the Rings, so on the car ride back to Chicago he talked about Gandalf the Gray becoming Gandolf the White and returning stronger than ever at the turn of the tide when he was needed the most. Justin typically loses me at the word “Gandalf” but I ignored the stuff about orcs and trolls and focused on the reality that Andrew Breitbart is no longer walking amongst us today, but he’s very much a part of us still — and he’ll be there with us at the turn of the tide when inspiration, encouragement, and guidance that Breitbart gave us brings the Tolerant Left down and saves this country from all those aligned to destroy America.
By the time we dropped Penny back off at her hotel and said goodbye, she was already working her phone setting up meetings in California where she’d keep Breitbart’s mission alive by working with her friends back there on various projects. As Justin and I drove home, I started responding to emails too, thinking bigger and bolder than I ever had before because “Andrew Breitbart’s not around anymore to do this himself’”. He showed us all how it could be done…and now, without him as a national vanguard, it’s up to us to do these things too.
I truly hope you are thinking this way too, whoever you are.
Death does not win. Ever, but most particularly in this case.
Andrew Breitbart was a special man with unique talents — but you are special and unique in your own way, too.
There is no greater tribute you can give a man than to become in your own way a little bit of what you found great in him.
Please start asking yourself “What would Andrew Bretibart do”…and then DO IT.
A Playlist for Today…and Every Day It’s Needed
Great Merciful Zeus. If you’re someone who doesn’t know what the fuss is about today, please listen to this. I think Whitney Houston was truly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in person. And that voice. THAT VOICE.
This is the song I’ve always played when I’ve lost something…came so close, but didn’t make it…but it celebrates the try and makes me want to pick myself back up and hit harder tomorrow. Every job I didn’t get, every deal that fell apart, every time I’ve ever almost done anything…this is what plays in my head.
This is the song that was playing the first time I ever talked to my boyfriend Justin. It was in Sidetrack here in Boystown, on 80s Request Night…and this was one of my requests. You could always tell if I was in that bar on those nights because I would stack the deck for Whitney.
My friend Althea has dressed up as this Whitney at Halloween — with the big bow and the bright smile in the slinky little gray dress. She loves the look so much she’ll wear it out on a non-Halloween night too…fits her great, and she channels that classic Whitney vibe in it.
This is the Whitney who won’t be trifled with. And whenever you won’t be trifled with either, you need to blast this.
Another great one for days when I don’t want to get out of bed…it’s just physically impossible for me to hear this and not want to get up and do something rock star awesome with my life that day.
Back when I was in college, at the very first gay bar I ever went to called Marcella’s in Rochester, a few of the queens there used to do this Whitney song, from The Bodyguard. Years and years later, when I met my friend Althea (who chose me over my ex when the two of us broke up and became my friend instead of his), she and I went out at Halloween with her as Whitney from Queen of the Night and me as her “bodyguard” a la Kevin Costner. It was one of my favorite Halloweens ever.
Sublime
And even cooler remixed as a dance track. This was the very first song I ever downloaded off Napster (back in the day), the first video I ever saw on YouTube, and the very first song I ever bought off iTunes.
You probably don’t know this one…but it features George Michael, another 80s favorite of mine who ended up a train wreck. When I was a little kid, maybe in 3rd or 4th grade, a group of my classmates and I dressed up together for Halloween as the stars of the day. I was George Michael, my cousin Val was Cyndi Lauper, my friend Cheryl was Madonna (in Like A Virgin wedding dress), my friend Tanesha was Whitney, and we had our friend Jimmy (who was Chinese, oddly enough) be Michael Jackson (since he had a red Thriller leather jacket).
There’s just something wrong with you if you don’t love this song, at least on some level. It was the theme for my high school prom, even though it was a few years old by that time…it was still that popular. When a favorite teacher at my school died my junior year, the second most beautiful version of this (next to Whitney’s) was sung at her funeral and I just cried and cried for days…but in a way where I felt comforted and sure as anything that the good that this woman did in life would echo forever, that I’d never forget her, and that everything she taught me would live on through anything good I did. When that saxophone breaks it…it just gives me a chance to fill in the images of whatever I’m mourning at the time…and that wish for joy, and for happiness, and for love…it’s just the greatest thing you can ever feel for someone. If you’re parting, if a relationship is ended…leave on this high note…let Whitney sing it for you…and wish only the best, only love, on — and for — others.
Great Merciful Zeus…and a newly coined, Sweet Whitney Houston…I hope in my lifetime I can create something on paper or in spirit that’s as soul-touchingly indelible as this one Dolly Parton cover song performed by Whitney at her clear and determined zenith.
It is going to be so hard for me to pull it together today and not be sorry about the 30 years we were shorted with Whitney on a stage…and to be just profoundly grateful for the immense body of work she left behind…that will always, always, always be part of my life — and I sincerely hope a part of yours, too.
Chime in with your favorites if I missed them. You will forgive me if I am not in the mood for politics today. Regularly scheduled programming will resume tomorrow. But, today is all about celebrating a very special person who meant something meaningful to me, and always will.
Everyone Deserves A Comeback — the Whitney Houston I’ll Remember
Last Sunday, Madonna put on one of the greatest Super Bowl halftime spectacles in history — full of pageantry, elaborate sets, and runway ready costumes. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time — hoping and praying she wouldn’t revert to form and do something vulgar to embarrass herself and the millions of families watching the big game together. It’s a testament to how much she’s matured in recent years that she managed to perform at the Super Bowl without grabbing her crotch, exposing herself, or gyrating sexually for attention — and to distract from the fact that she’s never been that good of a singer (or actress), but remains one heck of a showwoman.
I’ve never been a big Madonna fan, though I’ve always found her interesting — and an indisputable part of gay life. Here in Boystown, there are guys who are all about Madonna and breathlessly post on Facebook about the tickets they’ve scored to her upcoming concert (and what they had to do to get them). Then there are the Mariah Carey gays, who are largely mean-spirited and have spent the last week pissing and grousing that “the Super Bowl show wasn’t anything special”. Just about every diva imaginable from Kylie Minogue to Cyndi Lauper and, of course, Lady Gaga, has a cadre of gays who are superfans; these guys own every album the diva’s released, can lip synch her song’s better than she can (Madonna fans are especially talented in this regard), and can recount in vivid detail just how important her music’s been to them through every stage of their lives — but most especially their “coming out”, which is a more colorful and emotional sort of gay bar mitzvah that every guy goes through in his own way here in Boystown.
I’ve always been a Whitney Houston guy — and, yes, her discography is the soundtrack to my life. Every breakup I’ve ever had is set to “I Will Always Love You” played on endless repeat; on days when I just can’t get out of bed and don’t want to face the world, “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” makes me come alive; when something more reflective and soulful’s required, Whitney’s got that covered too, with “Didn’t We Almost Have It All” and “My Love Is Your Love”. Her incredibly crisp and effortless voice plays in my head every day, conjured by something I’m doing — and it’s always been what I imagine angels would sound like for those lucky enough to make it to Heaven.
In the mid-90s, I put myself through college by working in a fancy hotel in Cleveland, where I ultimately became part of the team that handled the VIP guests. Normally, this involved making sure executives from various companies or important lawyers with big firms had the specific kind of cookies or bottled water they liked best ready in their rooms upon check-in. A lot of basketball and baseball teams stayed at our hotel, so the job involved making sure these guys had everything they wanted, too, but I couldn’t care less about them (and other than Michael Jordan, Dennis Rodman, and Shaquille O’Neil I had no idea who any of them were). The real fun came when famous actors, writers, politicians, and musicians were in Cleveland for something — and the only nice place they could sleep was at our hotel, so I was almost guaranteed an encounter with them (if someone higher up in the sales department didn’t want to meet that person instead).
Because I lived downtown and was never more than five minutes away from work, I got the call to come in early one Saturday to give a VIP a tour of the Tower City mall attached to the hotel (because my boss lived 45 minutes away and couldn’t possibly get down there in time to make this happen herself). I’ll never forget that call and its accompanying “Don’t ever say I never did anything nice for you, kid” as I raced to the hotel to meet Whitney Houston and go shopping with her in Cleveland. It was the most surreal and magical experience of my life and — almost fifteen years later — it’s still one of the top five favorite things that have ever happened to me.
Whitney was in town not as a performer, but as the wife of Bobby Brown — who had a show booked at what was then the Gund Arena in Cleveland. Bobby was a complete and total jackass from the moment his tour bus rolled into the loading dock; during the two or three days they stayed with us, Bobby dropped his pants in the lobby mooning other guests, he needed to be removed from the hotel’s bar for getting belligerently drunk, and several times he raced through the corridors pounding on other people’s doors just because he felt he could.
Whitney, on the other hand, was gorgeous and serene…and so incredibly classy and kind to everyone she encountered. When she heard Bobby was pants-dropping in the lobby, she calmly came downstairs, apologized to everyone he was offending, and marched him right back up to their room like a mother disciplining her terrible toddler. Whatever happened to her in later years that lowered her down to Bobby’s level hadn’t happened yet, and the woman was still the Whitney you can see in her videos and in the Preacher’s Wife or The Bodyguard.
I was the most nervous I had ever been the moment I stood out in the hallway and knocked on her door to escort her down to the mall for an afternoon in Tower City. I had heard about how terrible Bobby was at that point and didn’t know what to expect from her — and also didn’t know why my boss hadn’t fought for this assignment, as this was the sort of thing she normally loved to do. But, here I was, about to spend a few hours with Whitney Houston on a random Saturday in Cleveland.
Bobbi Kristina and her nanny, a large blonde Southern woman, came with us and I did what the hotel taught me to always do: not talk about the famous person’s fame or about how much I liked what she or he did, but instead to just be nice and treat her or him like any other VIP (such as the senior partner of a law firm or an executive with Deloitte & Touche or whatever…people to whom I would never say, “Gosh, I really loved that TPS report you created” or “That lawsuit you just filed in federal court was my favorite of all time”). So, we talked about Cleveland and about the other cities she’d visited recently on Bobby’s tour. Whitney loved the giant glass atrium in the mall and marveled at the fountains with their display of dancing water (which was still new to a lot of people at the time, and one of the great Wonders of Cleveland, apparently). Back then, Tower City was still home to all sorts of high-end shops like Gucci, Fendi, Calvin Klein, and Bally’s of Switzerland, so there were plenty of nice things for Whitney to look at — and she bought a few scarves and something her daughter wanted in a store that had toys.
She had no makeup on and went completely unrecognized under a simple headscarf. Absolutely nobody bothered us and I very quickly forgot she was one of the most famous people in the world and thought of her as just one of the nicest guests I’d ever had the pleasure of doing anything for at the hotel.
Whitney was, however, easily the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in person. She smelled like fresh cut flowers and vanilla and spoke in almost a whisper. She was sweet, and kind, and nothing like how she’d later be portrayed by the cast of Saturday Night Live in recent years.
She bought all of us cinnamon pretzels and lemonade at Auntie Anne’s in the food court and we enjoyed those together as we walked around some more and then went outside onto Public Square for her to see a little of the city. When she commented on anything, it was always positive, saying how pretty the architecture was and how much she liked how the mall had a big train station underneath and was in the heart of the city. She was interested in what it was like living there and took the liberty to ask me about my personal life, clearly picking up on me being gay and even teasing me playfully at one point about a cute clerk working at Calvin Klein. I wasn’t out at the time and had never even had a conversation like that with a close friend, but here I was with Whitney Houston having “girl talk” about a boy, with her playing matchmaker.
She let me off the hook when I’d turned red and then ribbed me on that the rest of the afternoon, the way a friend would. “It’s okay, you’ll be ready one day and then you just go up to someone you like and talk to him,” she told me. “You just remember that”.
I think I spent around three hours with Whitney, her daughter, and the nanny before delivering them back to their room and saying goodbye. I got a big hug from both Whitney and Bobbi Kristina and a lot of thanks for taking the time to come down and do this for them. Whitney apparently made sure my boss knew she had a great time because on Monday I had a special thank you from the hotel’s general manager waiting for me, along with a little something extra in my next check for coming through in a bind.
I couldn’t believe anyone would ever think that was work or an inconvenience in any way — since I’d just had one of the very best times of my life…and got to eat cinnamon pretzels in Tower City with Whitney Houston.
In the years since, my heart broke for this remarkable woman as she slid into the depths of misery and drugs. That positive energy I saw in person that day in Cleveland was removed from her, by Bobby Brown no doubt. I honestly believe that dealing with that terrible man destroyed something in her — he wore her down, brought out the worst in her, and killed her soul. If you’ve ever seen the reality show Bobby Brown had for a season on VH1, you’ll know that by the mid-2000s Whitney had become a different person, all because of Bobby’s ruinous affect on her.
When she finally dumped him, I rejoiced, hoping she’d make a comeback. A few years ago at Pride here in Chicago, someone from Arista records came to the festival and handed out little paper fans with Whitney’s face on them, advertising her upcoming tour. I’d see people fanning themselves with those things and could feel the genuine excitement people had for Whitney getting it all back together and mounting the comeback of all comebacks.
Which she tried, but stumbled with, because her voice wasn’t there anymore. All the drinking, the drugs, and the Bobby Brown in her life had taken its toll and she couldn’t summon the old magic anymore.
Still, I hoped every day — until last night — that Whitney would re-invent herself. I pictured her moving out of the superstar role and into her own niche, putting out interesting, more low-key albums and doing shows like Darlene Love or Etta James did…gorgeous, nightclub shows at someplace like the Rainbow Room or intimate unplugged affairs in classy venues and small theaters. “An Evening With Whitney Houston” instead of giant stadium shows, where her personality and soul could be on display as much as what remained of her voice.
It’s an incredibly emotional day for me today, on a personal level, because it’s such a harsh reality that Whitney’s comeback will now never come.
We all make mistakes in life…and sometimes we fall in with a bad crowd and lose our way…but I’ve always believed that everyone deserves a comeback because we’re all entitled to forgiveness. I wanted Whitney to have that chance to re-invent herself, to introduce a new generation to her big hits, and to have a classic (and classy) third act of happiness that made everyone forget the Bobby Brown years.
For those of you who weren’t Whitney’s fans, I hope in the days ahead that you’ll give her music a listen again. Maybe you’ll pick up something new, or discover something in it that you’d forgotten during the decade or so of train wreck Whitney made of her life by allowing Bobby Brown to ruin her.
I plan on watching her videos on YouTube today and having a little marathon of her movies. I will, of course, be mourning the loss of an absolutely tremendous talent and a very special woman who lost her way and never found a way back. All these years later, and I can’t think of the words “Super Bowl” without thinking of Whitney Houston’s pitch-perfect performance on a day when Americans needed her to be the epitome of patriotism. On a very personal level, I’ll never think of “Whitney Houston” the performer without thinking of the incredibly kind, funny, and caring woman I got to spend an afternoon with shopping and eating pretzels.
Please pray for her soul…and for her family…and also for the comebacks that others like her deserve to have in their own lives. You don’t have to be famous to need a comeback…you just have to be someone who lost his or her way and deserve the chance to reclaim a positive path in life. That didn’t happen for Whitney — sadly — but let’s pray today that it can happen to others out there like her who are much better inside than the way they’ve been acting lately, or are better than what they’ve allowed their lives to become.
The Bark Side: Volkswagen Super Bowl Commercial With Star Wars Dogs
[Click above to embiggen: Breakdown of the barking Star Wars dogs and which characters they depict]
My boyfriend Justin has been playing this all day on his phone, giggling uncontrollably over Volkswagen’s “The Bark Side” Star Wars dogs Super Bowl commercial. Since Justin’s not usually much of a giggler (and I’ve only seen him this happy and excited about something when he sat next to me and giggled through a ride on Space Mountain at Disneyland), I know this commercial is pretty terrific.
I love the whippet at the end dolled up as an AT-AT.
Justin and I went back and forth guessing which dog was which in the commercial — so I put together the little graphic at the top if you want a guide. We debated for a while on the Obi Wan and Emperor dogs — Justin thought the former could have been Lando Calrissian and the former Jabba the Hutt, but since Obi Wan and the Emperor were more central to the story I think they make more sense. Though, there is an Ewok and an AT-AT and those two things weren’t any bigger a deal to the series than Lando and Jabba so maybe you’ll have a different take on this.
I would love for you to chime on this question though: do you think the money invested in these commercials ever pays off for a company? I love these creative ads, and think this one in particular is just sublime. But I never remember the product they’re selling. Maybe subconsciously when I see a Volkswagen I have a positive instant perception in it since I’m so happy watching a fun ad like this that somewhere in my brain that happiness gets connected to the Volkswagen logo because it appears during the commercial.
Perhaps that applies whether I actively remember that “those ads I like were for Volkswagen”. If I ever have to buy a car, I want to get a Mini Cooper even though that company never even does ads (I just think the Minis are adorable…and so fun in that movie “The Italian Job”).
I’d love to hear from those of you who know something about psychology because the amount of cash invested in Super Bowl ads is truly staggering when the production and creative costs are factored in — and I’d love your take on if this is money well spent for the companies.
Personally, I’m glad Volkswagen shelled out whatever it did on this one because Justin’s as happy as Christmas morning today since barking dogs dressed in costumes and Star Wars (two things he loves) have so expertly collided.
An Open Letter to Rush Limbaugh: Please Hold the Cocktail Party Establishment Responsible For What Happens in November
Dear Mr. Limbaugh,
It’s clear to anyone who listens to your show or follows politics online that the Cocktail Party GOP establishment has been pushing Willard “Mittens” Romney(care) towards the Republican 2012 presidential nomination since the day after John McCain was defeated by Barack Obama in 2008.
You’ve talked about this in the past — that Republicans seem to keep nominating the man the Cocktail Party establishment thinks has “the next turn” to be the nominee. Usually this person is the guy who came in second in the last presidential race — so, he’s really the guy who lost to the guy who lost to the Democrat that year.
Bob Dole in 1996 and John McCain in 2008 establish this pattern — and many of us believe that Romney’s nomination will repeat this same very stupid mistake in 2012.
Romney’s win in the Florida primary last night was very similar to what happened in the 2008 Democrat primaries, which I’m sure many of your listeners didn’t follow closely. Back then the Democrat Party wanted Obama to beat Hillary Clinton, so John Edwards was encouraged to stay in the race as long as possible to keep splitting the “Not-Obama” vote with her; Rick Santorum is playing this role in 2012 and is being encouraged to keep splitting the “Not-Romney” vote so that Newt Gingrich loses in states like Florida (where he would have at least come in a closer second to Romney if the Cocktail Party GOP establishment was not taking pages from the Democrats’ old playbook).
A lot of us believe the fix is indeed in and that the permanent political class on both sides of the aisle — along with the elite, agenda-driven media that serves them — is doing everything possible to make Romney the nominee. Since Occupy Wall Street and other George Soros-funded endeavors have materialized that are tailor-made to combat Romney, it’s obvious that Romney is the man that Barack Obama most wants to run against in an election that will devolve into class warfare (with persecution and ridicule of Mormons as a sideshow that will also distract from Obama’s incompetent failings in office). “Occupy & Persecute” has replaced 2008′s “Hope & Change” and running Romney is like sending the Washington Generals up against the Harlem Globetrotters.
Every time the “Party of Stupid” sends an “it’s his turn!” candidate like Romney into an election as the candidate Democrats most want to run against, many of us observers wonder why the Cocktail Partying elite are allowed to keep serving in positions of authority in the Republican Party when they keep making the same stupid mistakes while expecting different results.
I want to propose something to you in 2012 that is something that only YOU and YOUR LISTENERS can do: let’s hold the Cocktail Party GOP establishment accountable this year.
If Romney wins the nomination and goes on to win the general election by somehow overcoming Obama’s “Occupy & Persecute” strategy, then everyone who pushed Romney towards the nomination will no doubt be rewarded with patronage positions in his administration. People like Tim Pawlenty, Nikki Haley, Kelly Ayotte, Marco Rubio, and other prominent Romney surrogates, endorsers, or advocates will be made Cabinet Secretaries, ambassadors, and in one case, Vice President (obviously). That’s just the people in the public eye whose names your listeners know.
There’s also the legion of Romney-supporting Cocktail Party career consultants who’ve been pushing his nomination since the end of the McCain campaign, because “it’s Romney’s turn next”. These are the nameless guys who jump from one losing campaign to another, like fleas leaping from a dying dog to the next mongrel.
There’s never any consequence for these people in losing elections. They seem to forever have high-paying jobs advising Republicans on how to lose to Democrats in spectacular fashion.
Why is this acceptable?
I think you — and probably only you — can do something about this, Rush.
Please encourage your listeners to keep track of every prominent Republican who actively pushes Romney for the nomination…so that if Romney loses to Barack Obama in the fall these people can be held accountable for delivering Democrats the candidate they most wanted to run against.
If Romney wins the nomination but loses to Obama, then Tim Pawlenty should never be allowed to run for public office or hold a position of influence in the party again (and it most certainly should not be “his turn” to lose to Democrats in 2016). If Romney loses to Obama, then Nikki Haley, Kelly Ayotte, and Marco Rubio all need to be primaried aggressively the next time they’re up for re-election.
If Romney hands Obama re-election, then everyone who made Romney’s nomination possible needs to be removed from the leadership of the Republican Party.
Fair is fair, Rush.
These people consistently reap the rewards when “it’s his turn!” Cocktail Party-approved candidates win — so it’s only right that they all fall on their swords (or be pushed onto them by you and your listeners) when the Dole, McCain, Romney pattern repeats itself.
If Romney’s the nominee, I’ll vote for him, as there is nothing on Earth that would compel me to vote for Barack Obama (unless he’s on a show like Survivor and I can vote him off the island…or vote him ONTO the island of Hawaii for permanent exile). But I just don’t see how Romney will be able to overcome Obama’s “Occupy & Persecute” re-election strategy.
Please encourage your listeners to start doing the tedious work of making detailed notes of who exactly is driving Romney to a nomination win so that if Obama gets that second term, on November 7th we begin efforts to make sure the people who brought us the Dole/McCain/Romney “it’s his turn to be nominee!” pattern have zero influence on voters’ choices in 2016.
Your leadership and influence is desperately needed on this — as no one seems to have thought to do it before.
Respectfully,
Kevin DuJan
HillBuzz.org
* Note: If you are a Rush listener or subscriber, I appreciate your help in getting this letter to him. Something has to change, and someone has to shake up the way the Cocktail Party GOP establishment conducts business as usual. I believe only Rush can do that.
Do You Know How to Maintain A Contemporary Log to Document Harassment You’re Receiving?
Last year, I told you about a horrible situation my friend Gabrielle in Boston found herself in, where a family living in her co-op building allowed their teenaged son to terrorize residents with psychotic behavior. The boy, who I will call “Denny”, manifests all the “tells” that shows like Dexter or Law & Order: SVU use as shortcuts to identify a youth as a future serial killer: harming small animals, playing increasingly more disturbing “pranks” on others, lurking around corners to spy on attractive women, menacing older people, committing ever-more-destructive acts of vandalism, etc.
Gabrielle couldn’t sell her unit in the building (because in this market she’d take too deep of a bath on it), so she ultimately found a young university grad student who rented the place from her while she moved out into a new rental unit of her own — the whole thing ends up costing her $150 extra each month, for the piece of mind of not having to live in her own building anymore and deal with “Denny”. She couldn’t rent the apartment for a profit, or even find someone willing to take over the place for what she pays in mortgage each month (so she’d break even), but she’s willing to eat this cost until she figures out a more permanent solution (ie, she can sell the apartment and be done with these people).
I was able to catch up with Gabrielle when she was in Chicago over the weekend and have an update on her saga for those who are curious (and many thanks to those who’ve emailed since you first read her story and have asked how she was doing — she appreciated that very much). I’m also mentioning it because it involves a look at how to keep what’s known as a “contemporary log” that documents harassment a person receives on an ongoing basis. If you ever encounter a recurring problem with a neighbor or are ever harassed at work, perhaps Gabrielle’s “contemporary log” example may be of some use to you. I’ve had to keep one of these myself for the last year and a half to document the activities of a cyber stalker I acquired — and in both Gabrielle’s and my cases these “contemporary logs” will be entered into evidence when our respective suits go to trial later this year.
