Sunday, January 01, 2006

The Party's Over

The Party's Over

The Party's Over (2000)

I need my head examined
I need my eyes excited
I’d like to join the party
But I was not invited
You make a member of me
I’ll be delighted

--Elvis Costello, "Two Little Hitlers"

Pumped for 2006, are you?

But which party is over? Surely, and unfortunately, not the Republican party -- currently still enjoying political control of, well, everything. Whatever war crimes and Constitutional reversals Bush continues to commit, BushCo CEOs won't raise a hand for a single, pathetic wrist slap. Will it be another year of Bush doing a heckuva job to spend more of that mandated political capital that he claims to have earned?

Will it be another year of shaking my head in amazement -- stunned that each new revelation of cronyism and corruption gets a wide berth from the mass media? We were lied into endless war, folks. Our leader admits authorizing covert spying on us without judicial review. Pogo's come home like the prodigal son. Will the likes of Nancy Grace care? Will Pravda Fox News stop violating their own motto by deciding what to report? I mean once you've positively spun torture and black sites and domestic surveillance, what's next on the slippery slope of starting to terrorize to stop the terrorists? Embracing Eric Rudolph talking points? Advocating Kent State Redux?

I'm tearing up that elephant mass mailing. I'd like to join the party, but annoyances like scruples and ethics -- those "moral values" that BushCo voters claim to cherish -- hold me back. An acquaintance recently asked me, "Why are you so upset about Bush spying to stop terrorism? Do you have something to hide? If not, you'll be fine."

Well, thanks for that reassurance, comrade. Sorry if the extensive track record of BushCo lies and catapulted propaganda doesn't have me blowing my noisemaker with more glee. I feel like the sullen, moody guy drinking alone in the dark corner of Times Square while partygoers breathlessly count down the lighted ball.

It's not my party. You'll never make a member of me. That thought delights me.

I have nothing to hide but plenty to protect. My freedom of speech, for one -- without having my skull caved in with a flagpole while being called unpatriotic or defeatist. My right to privacy, for another -- without having spooks reviewing my Amazon purchases or Sam Alito and pals playing doctor and acting as kingmaker.

So what's my fragile hope for the new year? That, simply, finally, the party is over.

Hey, it was de-evolved while it lasted...

Is the parade in its last throes? Are we turning the corner?

[Photograph seen on BAGnewsNOTES]

But who am I kidding -- when I'm wedged snugly in the heart of red state America -- where we'll raise another beer for torture as we pose proudly for the telephoto lens. Yes, what was I thinking, comrade? I need my head examined.

~/~

UPDATE: I revised this post slightly. Sue me.

1 comment:

Neil Shakespeare said...

Hey, where'd you get that picture of my girlfriend with a hangover?!

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