I have a hard time remembering that the Democrats are in control of the Executive Branch (the President) and both the Senate and the House in the Legislative Branch; they sure as fucking hell don’t act like it.  We have a fucking supermajority in the Senate, which means we can steamroll over the Republicans if we got our fucking act together.  Healthcare reform?  We could have it now.  Rolling back DADT?  Done.  More better bigger stimulus?  Piece of cake.

Ok, it wouldn’t be that easy, but it wouldn’t be the horrific agony that it is now.  I have said before that I love the fact that the Democratic Party has a big tent.  Truly, we are a diverse party.  However, I am concerned (yes, concern-trolling my own blog.  Deal with it) that the party as a whole has moved inexorably to the right.  Bill Maher said a while ago (and I’m paraphrasing), “We have two parties in this country:  the batshitcrazymotherfuckers on the right and the centrists.”

He’s right.  The progressives are shunted to the side and treated as nuisances.  Although, the progressives are starting to make noise about killing a healthcare reform bill that doesn’t include a public option.  It’s about fucking time.  I am so fucking tired of the Democrats cringing and whimpering in fear, away from the big, bad Republicans (and, to be fair, the Blue Dawgs).

So.  I have decided that the whinging Democrats need a little tough love.  To that end, I have decided to channel my inner dominatrix to get my message across.  Her name is Mistress Cerulean Bitch.  Excuse me a minute while I fashion my hair in a high ponytail and let it drape down my back.  Next, false eyelashes and a thick layer of black eyeliner.  This is followed up with Diva lipstick (bright red, by MAC, of course) and just a brush of rouge on each cheek.  I squeeze myself into a black bustier that allows my cups to generously run over.  Then, I slide on a micro-mini black leather skirt with a slit up each thigh.

Just to shake things up a bit, I don silver fishnets to add a bit of sparkle.  As an afterthought, I affix large, silver hoops to my ears.  They match the fishnets, and I am pleased.  I slide on thigh-high black leather high-heel boots.  They pinch my toes, but they are complete the outfit, so I put up with the minor pain.  I pick up my bullwhip and crack it experimentally in the air.  It makes a whistling sound that is music to my ears.

I look at myself in the mirror and nod in approval.  I am now ready to take on the GOP and the Blue Dawgs.

David Vitter!  Step right up.  I have your diaper waiting for you.  You may think all you want is to talk to a girl, but I bet I can find the inner masochist in you.  Have you ever tasted the end of a whip?  If you like the diapers, you’ll LOVE the whip.  Then, once I get you hooked, I will force you to vote for healthcare reform that includes a public option, and you’ll like it!

Yes, I could diligently ply my trade to the family-values Republicans who seem to get caught dropping trou with increasing frequency.  However, that is time-consuming, and, quite frankly, boring.  I have considered doing the dominatrix thing in real life because I’d be good at it, and I could make decent money.  However, I don’t have the best view of men in general, and I seriously doubt that being a dominatrix would help in that matter.

Back to my political fantasy.  The Blue Dawgs are useless–no, they are worse than useless.  I have no idea why some of them call themselves Democrats because they would be more comfortable across the aisle.  While the Republicans piss me off, I have a grudging respect for them because they are, after all, the opposition party.  It’s their job to oppose the policies that the president puts forth.  Granted, they would look a lot better if they actually came up with some solutions to the problems that plague America, but whatever.

No, it’s the fucking Blue Dawgs who make me want to spit tacks.  I see no reason for them to be Democrats, none at all.  Their sole goal is to obstruct the Democrats so that they (the Blue Dawgs) can inflate their own importance.  Any time I listen to Evan Bayh talk, I want to punch the wall.  He is owned by Big Pharma, and he is in love with himself.  He doesn’t give a shit about the Democratic Party at all, nor, honestly, about his constituents.  He is in it for himself.  There is no Democratic bill that he can’t water down in order to appease his GOP colleagues (and to line his own pockets).  I despise the fucking Blue Dawgs because they are whores who have no principles other than me-first, foremost, and only.

So.  They are useless, and it’s too cumbersome to break down the GOP, one member at a time.  What’s the solution?  I want to tackle the true liberals and tell them it’s time to dominate like you mean it.  We fucking won the 2008 elections by a landside.  It is fucking time to own it.  No more fucking cringing and placating and talking of fucking bipartisanship.  Bipartisanship only works if both sides are willing to compromise.  That is not happening on the right.  Oh, and can someone please get President Gramps McCain off the teevee machine?  He fucking lost, people.  He is of no use to the political discourse.

Goddamn it, Dems.  You need to channel your inner dominatrix and put a stop to the shenanigans of the Republicans and of the Blue Dawgs.  Fortunately, there are a few Dems who are doing just that.  One is Rep. Anthony Weiner (D) from New York who introduced an amendment to the House to get rid of Medicare.  Of course, he didn’t want to get rid of Medicare–he just wanted to force the Republicans to vote for getting rid of it or for keeping it in order to trip them up over their avowed hatred of government-run healthcare.  Not one of the Republicans voted for getting rid of Medicare, which was Rep. Weiner’s intent in the first place.  In the aforementioned link, Rep. Weiner goes on to explain that he wants to introduce a single payer option into healthcare reform.  That’s the kind of progressive thought that I can believe in.

Another rather neat trick was when Rep. Neil Abercrombie (D) from Hawaii wrote a House resolution recognizing Hawaii’s fiftieth anniversary, and he slipped in a line, “Whereas the 44th President of the United States, Barack Obama, was born in Hawaii on August 4, 1961 …”.  This, again, was to force the Republicans (especially the ones who back the birfer bill) to have to vote on whether or not Obama is a natural-born citizen of the United States.  The resolution passed 378-0.

I applaud these efforts, and I call for the progressive Democrats to play hardball as often and as strongly as they can.  It is clear that the Republicans do not want to negotiate in good faith, so it’s time to smash them into oblivion, metaphorically-speaking, of course.  If they ever want to act like rational adults again, then I would welcome their input.  Until then, they need to STFU, and the Dems need to make them do it.

As for me, I’m taking off my heels and sending Mistress Cerulean Bitch back from whence she came.  My feet hurt.

P.S.  Here is House of Pain’s Jump Around just because I like it.

Oh, shit.  Sorry.  That was a pleasant digression, but not the point of this entry.  First of all, I got a comment from a birfer going by the name of “Jack”.  I am not publishing the comment because then the nutjob will have limitless access to commenting on my blog, and I don’t want that.  Instead, I will produce it here so I can point at, laugh at, and mock it:

“The time lines, places, actions, motives, when analyzed, support, and are consistent with, what is the answer to the Obama birth puzzle:

Obama’s grandmother is his mother and his mother is his sister.

Think about it. Review all the facts and claims. ”

My dear, dear commenters.  Let’s all turn to Jack and laugh uproariously in his face.  I mean, I thought I had heard it all with this birfer shit, but this, this just takes the fucking cake.  Dude, if you’re a parody troll, then my hat is off to you because this is fucking brilliant in its lunacy.  It pushes aside the whole Obama’s father is a Kenyan who diabolically plotted to impregnate a white woman in Kenya before arranging for Barack Obama’s fake birth announcement to be placed in the Hawaiian papers so that forty-plus years later, Barack Obama could hoodwink all of America and become President of the United States.  It doesn’t even bother to address the whole natural-born citizen versus naturalized citizen debate that is raging in the birfer world.  Oh, no, this comment is even crazier than all that.

Based on nothing at all, this nutter declares that Obama’s grandmother is his mother and that his mother is his sister.  Look at the facts, he says.  What facts?  The ones he pulled out of his ass?  Besides, here’s the thing that keeps coming back to me.  Let’s say it was true.  Let’s say that Obama’s grandmother, bless her soul, was Obama’s mother.  Let’s take it as fact that she was messing around with the milkman who happened to be African American.  Let’s say this was true.  You know what that does?  It completely silences the whole entire fucking birfer movement because both of Obama’s maternal grandparents were born in fucking Kansas!

It boggles my mind that “Jack” would send this theory to me in order to boost the birfer’s claims.  I mean, I imagine that’s why he sent it.  I could be wrong, but I see no other reason for him emailing this ridiculous crap.  Let’s assume that Mr. Trollie believes this crap he’s spewing and that he’s a birfer.  Where does his brilliant logical deduction put him?  Firmly in the camp of Obama being a natural-born citizen.

What an idiot!  ”Jack”, I mean, of course, not President Obama.

Heh.  The more I read this batshit crazy claim, the funnier it gets.

Ok.  Down to brass tacks.  My platform.

First of all, I believe in good old-fashioned family values–such as spending time with your children.  Such as putting your children’s interest first, so even when you’re tempted to have a hooker dress you in diapers, spank your ass, and call you a naughty boy (yeah, David Vitter, I’m looking at you), you resist because you know as a US Senator that you are gonna get caught doing that shit (pun semi-intended).  Vitter released a statement today talking about good ol’ Southern conservative values that he believes his constituents want, and all I could do is picture him in that damned diaper.

Oh, and when I am elected president, I will use the EO to stipulate that if a Republican runs on a family-values platform and is caught in a diaper with said hooker or practicing a wiiiiiide stance in the restroom of an airport (MY fucking airport, no less), then he has to immediately resign.  If he pushes against gay marriage or unmarried people (read, gays) adopting children and is caught sexting his underage page or having his parents pay off his mistress’s family to the tune of almost $100,000, he is out of there.  And, if a Republican refuses to take stimulus money for his state out of principle while running on a “I am holier-than-thou” platform then flies off on taxpayers’ money to hike the Appalachian Trail, blowing off job-creation meetings in the meantime, he gets the boot before he can even hike back to America.

Why?  Because I hate hypocrisy, that’s why.  What people want to do in the privacy of their own homes as long as it’s between consenting adults is their business.  I only give a shit when the same asswipes who spew about God’s law go around spending taxpayers’ money on their dalliances.  Then, it’s not just personal or private–it’s fucking public.  Or, fucking in public.  Or, fucking the public.

While we’re on the topic, I firmly believe in the separation of church and state.  Why?  Partly because I don’t believe in fairy tales any longer, but mostly because I find it morally reprehensive for any religion to cram their beliefs down other people’s throats.  You want to pray in school?  Fine.  Just do it to yourself and don’t make me join in.

I believe in safe sex.   I believe that having a positive view on sex empowers women to make choices that they truly want to make.  I don’t believe in abstinence-only, but I do think that abstinence is absolutely worthwhile to be mentioned in sex education.  I believe that there should be a condom on every cock.   Look, teenagers are going to have sex.  I know, it’s shocking, but it’s true.  Teenagers have been having sex since the beginning of our country–except, back then, they were married by the age of fifteen, so it was sanctioned sex.  Remember every girl’s fave, Laura Ingalls Wilder?  Married at fifteen, first child at sixteen.

It does no good to say they shouldn’t have sex any more than Prohibition stopped the sale of alcohol.  No, it just drove the black market.  With abstinence-only, it just increases the chance that the girl will get pregnant (or that someone will get an STD) because the teens don’t know anything about contraceptives.

I believe that if marriage is going to exist, then everyone should have the right to marry whomever they want, as long as it’s legal and between consenting adults.  I know that many liberals are lukewarm on this issue saying now is not the time.  Put aside that now never seems to be the time, I have a proposition to make, then.  Since marriage is apparently not that important of an issue right now during the current state of our country, I will use the EO to put a temporary stop on all marriages.  That’s right.  No one will be able to get married until DOMA is repealed.  All the liberals scoffing about the importance of this issue shouldn’t mind, amirite?

I will push for the end of DADT within the first three months of my presidency.  I will issue a stop-gap order so that no more qualified soldiers are dismissed for this stupid, antiquated law.  I will point out daily that we have a shortage of qualified soldiers since we are currently occupying two countries.  We can’t afford to keep letting go of LGBT service people; we just can’t.

In addition, I will introduce a single-payer healthcare plan.  It’s time.  It’s past time.  Any Congress person who complains about socialized healthcare will immediately have his/her health benefits put on hold.  I mean, I wouldn’t want an anti-socialist to be forced to accept healthcare paid for by the taxpayers.  That just wouldn’t be right, now would it?  Since so many of the Republicans and the Blue Dawgs think so highly of the private insurers, I will graciously allow them to partake in the free-market system of healthcare–oh, and they will not be able to accept any discounts from the insurers.  That would be socialism, wouldn’t it?

Oh, I would also mandate that every Congress critter spend at least a week of their summer recess doing community service, whether it be volunteering at a homeless shelter or doling out food at a soup kitchen.

Another issue dear to my heart:  Women’s choice.  I will press the FBI to ratchet up their compliance with existing laws that frown mightily on the scare tactics of the forced-birth crowd.  Abortions are legal in this country.  It is unacceptable that the doctors who perform this procedure have to endure threats to their lives.  It is unacceptable that the women going to have these procedures done have to endure the trauma of the taunting protesters as they (the pregnant women) enter the clintic.

I will study very carefully how I can protect the right to free speech while simultaneously protecting a woman’s right to choose what to do with her life.  That’s right–her life.  Not Bill O’s or Crybaby Beck’s or Disgrace to Her Race Malkin’s.  Every woman’s life is worthwhile–every single one.

Those are my top issues.  In addition, my presidential slogan will be:

Minna Hong for President, 2016, Bitchez!

My theme song will be:

Take a Chance on Me by Erasure (yes, I know Abba did it first, but I don’t care).

Oh, and my running mate will be Alan Rickman because as Alex pointed out in the comments from yesterday’s post, it doesn’t really matter who my VP pick is since I don’t expect to win.  Thank you for your support.

P.S.  I wrote this the day after President Barack Hussein Obama was sworn in.  It kinda fits here, too.

What?  Why am I running?  Well, I’m glad you asked.  Sit down.  It’s gonna take awhile.

Back when I first could vote (1992), I naively believed that the government was for the people, of the people, and by the people.  I know!  I can only shake my head in bemusement at how callow I was in my youth.  I didn’t vote that year because I was out of the country, so I cast my first vote for president in 1996.  By then, I was a bit more jaded.  I wasn’t pleased with the two-party system we have, so I voted for Nader (after assuring that Clinton was reelected).  I wanted to make a statement, but I was also pragmatic.  It’s the same with the last local Senate race.  I wanted to vote for Dean Barkley, the Independent Party candidate, but I knew the race was going to be close (though, not as close as it turned out to be.  I don’t think anyone foresaw that, except, perhaps, for Nate Silver), so I voted for Al Franken.    Ahem.  Excuse me.  SENATOR AL FRANKEN, bitchez!

Anyhoo, I was discouraged because it seemed that politicians cared more about politics than they did about their constituents.  Call me thick, but I truly believed that politicians should serve the people who elected them.  I know, I know.  I was so young and beautiful then!

Then, came the dark election of 2000.  I don’t like to think about it as I can still drive myself crazy as to what might have been if we had had President Gore for the last eight years instead of W.  No, he wasn’t the most charismatic guy out there (to say the least), and yes, he chose slimy Joe Lieberman as his running mate (sigh), but there is no way in hell we would be in the mess we are currently in if Gore had been prez.  Go ahead!  Say it’s revisionist history.  I don’t fucking care.  It’s true, and we all know it.

Ok.  Back to my candidacy.  Why am I throwing my hat in the ring?  Well, I could spout all these lofty sentiments that are actually true, but there is one simple reason:  I want to drive the rightwingnutters clean over the cliff.  They have driven themselves as close to it without teetering over, and I think I can provide that one last push.

I am fucking fed up with this birfer nonsense.  If you don’t know what I’m talking about, well, I’ll sum it up.  A bunch of racist motherfuckers on the right (and probably some PUMAs as well) are bent on proving that Obama isn’t qualified to be president because he his father is Kenyan!  Because his mom was underage when he was born!  Because Hawaii isn’t really a state!  Because he was actually born in Kenya!  Because, shut up!

The gist of it is that he hasn’t shown his birth certificate (not true), so we can’t be sure that he’s actually a natural-born citizen.  Now, let’s put aside the fact that no other president in modern history has been asked to provide proof of his citizenry.  Let’s put aside that it was actually McCain who wasn’t born in America (he was born in the Panama Canal Zone).  Let’s put aside that if there were any shred of evidence that Obama wasn’t born in America, it would have surfaced before now.  What I want to focus on is, are you fucking kidding me?  Really?  This is the fucking shit that passes for political discourse these days?

The birther of the birfer movement, Orly Taitz (or Orly Taintz, as I call her) is a by-mail lawyer, a dentist, and a practicer of Taekwondo.  She’s also fucking nuts.  She was on Colbert last night.  She was comparing Obama to Hitler and Stalin (she’s a Russian citizen).  Colbert, in his deadpan way, tried to see how far he could push her.  She said because Obama’s father is Kenyan, Obama is not an American citizen.  Colbert pushed some more.  This despicable nutjob actually said that the only way Obama would be qualified is, and I’m paraphrasing here, if his father was dug up from his grave and given retroactive American citizenship.

This issue just won’t fucking die.  It’s been argued on BJ for many months.  I finally lost my cool one day and posted that neither of my parents were born in the states, and they were not citizens when I was born.  I, however, was a citizen.  Why?  Because I was fucking born in Minnesota.  End of story.  It doesn’t matter the country of origin of my parents.  I am a fucking American citizen because I was born in this motherfucking country.  I didn’t have to take a citizenship test.  I didn’t have to pledge my undying allegiance to America.  I didn’t have to take a blood oath and swear that I will protect America with every fiber of my being.  And you know what?  It still says I’m a fucking American citizen on my passport.

Some prominent bloggers (cough cough, Andrew fucking Sullivan) say that Obama should provide the original of his birth certificate in the name of transparency and to put the controversy to bed.  While Sully says he thinks the birfers are nuts, he simultaneously says Obama should placate them.  First of all, fuck you, Sully!  Fuck you and your racist whinging.  Just because you’re embarrassed over your obsession with Palin’s procreating habits, it doesn’t mean you need to overcompensate by going after Obama for something equally stupid.  In addition, why the fuck should Obama have to shoot down every crackpot theory that is shot at him across the bow?  Just because you say so?  I don’t think so, you fucking git.  I know many people are enamored of Sully, but to me, he’s just another privileged white guy who wouldn’t have broken with his precious conservative movement if it weren’t for the inconvenient truth of his gayness.

Ahem.

Back to me.  I figure if one furrner as a parent is the source of such distress, just imagine me running when both of my parents are furrners!  I want to make their fucking heads explode.  I want to give Pat Robert–Buchanan a fucking heart attack.  I want to make Orly Taintz flee back to her beloved Russia.

You know what’s the funniest part?  The traditional media is finally saying, “Ya know, I’m beginning to maybe think that race has something to do with the birfer movement.”  You think?  No fucking way!

Anyway, back to my candidacy.

I ask my fake hubby, TattooSydney, to stand besides me, along with his soon-to-be real hubby.  They are from the civilized country of Australia, and they will be getting married very soon.  Take a bow, boys.  I know I have to be married to be prez.  I don’t fucking want to get married, so I thought a gay hubby with a hubby would be the best way to get around that requirement.  Plus, they live in Australia, so it’s not like I have to live with them.  I’ll just fly them out for the important events and put them up in Lincoln’s bedroom.  Or maybe the guest house that W. refused to let Obama use early–preferring, in petty snit, to have the ex-prime minister of Australia stay there.  I’m hoping that having my fake hubby and his real hubby stay there will wipe out the bad Aussie mojo the ex-prime minister left behind.

Their job will be to stand by my side and look good in their tuxes.  Oh, and snog for the cameras whenever they feel like it.  I believe that the more the American public sees public displays of homo affection, the more they will be able to realize that it’s a fucking beautiful thing.  In addition, my fake hubby is in charge with supplying me with a neverending stream of cheer-me-up music such as Kylie Minogue.

Next, my headquarters will be in Loring Park.  I will have headquarters around the country in the gayest of neighborhoods.  I don’t have any kids, so I will borrow some from friends to dutifully exploit them and trot them around in their matching outfits.  I will have Erasure, the Indigo Girls, kd lang, Margaret Cho, Wanda Sykes, and a bunch of other queer folks providing the entertainment at any gatherings I have.

I will kiss a lot of babes.  Any babes that want to be kissed will get no protest from me.

If I win, I will be sworn in on the Constitution.  I will pledge allegiance to MY religion (hedonism).  I will worship at the altars of Bacchus and Dionysus.

I will kiss more babes.  Lots and lots of babes.

See, the beauty of me running is that I don’t give a shit if I win.  Therefore, I can say whatever the fuck I want.  I wouldn’t pander to anyone because I would rather dip my eyeballs in lye than kiss the ass of Big Pharma, Big Agra, or Big Religion.  I could tell the truth as I see it, and I would have a blast doing it.

I would throw all my dirt out there so no one can claim I’m hiding anything.  Hell, most of my dirt is on this very blog, so anyone who wants to find some juicy stuff about me won’t have very far to dig.

I would be the first Taiwanese American bisexual agnostic unmarried childfree nonmonogamous hedonistic candidate to run for president.  It would be a hoot.

Hm.  As usual, I am running long.  I will blog about my platform tomorrow.  Stay tuned.

Anyway, I started reading his book, Nothing’s Sacred, expecting it to be hilarious.  I was a bit wary, though, because I had high hopes for Jon Stewart’s book, Naked Pictures of Famous People, and I was sorely disappointed.  I am also reading Stephen Colbert’s I Am America (And So Can You), and I am not enjoying it yet.  Granted, I am not very far into it, but I’m still a tad bit disappointed.

I realized it’s because Stewart and Colbert rely heavily on their on-screen personae to make their humor really fly.  Stripped of their personalities, their words are heavy-handed and overly-arch.  So, I opened Black’s book with trepidation.  Can I say that I love his last name?  I can’t?  Well, too late.  I just did.  Anyway, his book was humorous as I expected, but what I didn’t expect was that it would be tender and sensitive as well.  Oh, sure, Lewis tries to gussy it up with his scathing repartee, but it’s there for everyone to see.  He is rabidly anti-war, pro the-people, anti-corporations, pro gay marriage, etc.   

I say I would be him because he’s a lot like me.  He feels things too deeply, so he tries to defend himself by being cranky, indignant, and irascible.  I would bet he tends towards depression, and he wonders if he’s just spitting in the wind.  So, Lewis Black, you are my political crush for the day.  Don’t pull a muscle smiling in glee over it.

Ok.  On to the entry for the day.   I have been thinking about intelligence for awhile.  This is one area in which I am confident–I have brains.  Lots of them.  No, it’s not because I’m Asian–by the way, it’s a myth that Asians are super-smart.  I have been to different Asian countries, and there are plenty of stupid people there.  It’s just that the wave of East Asian immigrants who came over in the sixties were, yes, that’s right, the best and the brightest of Asia who came here for educational purposes.  In other words, all the smart ones left!  Some went back, but many stayed here, like my parents.  Thus, the myth that Asian Americans are super-smart began.  It’s also because Asian families place a heavy emphasis on education, but that is not the subject of today’s entry.

This is.  I was raging to my therapist about the politicians doing something particularly stupid, and she said calmly (because she’s my therapist–and, I’m paraphrasing), “You know, I think intelligent people tend to underestimate the gap between them and less intelligent people.”  I shut up, gaped at her, and thought it over.  She added, “People who are intelligent tend to think that other people may not be as intelligent, but they are nearly as intelligent.”  She left it for me to fill in the rest.

Follow me as I dissect this for you.  See, I am at the top end of the IQ scale.  Off it, as a matter of fact.  Normal IQ is 100.  It goes up and down in segments of ten.  Once you go past 130, the differences are nominal.  Anyway, 100 is the norm.  I am three deviations above the norm.  If you take, say, the Senate which has a hundred members (ok, 99 right now, yes, I know!), that means that half of them probably are near or under a hundred.   They are not the smartest people in the country, by far, so I really shouldn’t be surprised when one of them (John Boehner, Eric Cantor–ok, they are from the House.  Mitch McConnell.  He’s a senator) says something blindingly stupid.  Still, I am.  I expect them to be slightly less intelligent than I am, but in the same ballpark.  It turns out, they aren’t even in the same league.

Hm.  I am done for the day.  I might blog more about how I’m dealing with this revelation…tomorrow.

Just kidding.  I really have solved it, though.  Get comfy because it’s going to take awhile for me to explain how I reached my conclusion.  Make a pot of herbal tea…ooh, that’s a good idea.  Excuse me.  I’m going to make some ginger tea.  Be right back.

Ok, here I am.  Ready?

First of all, let me state the obvious–the stock market is not real.  Oh, I can hear your protests.  “Wait a gol-dang-minute, Minna,” you’re saying to yourself.  Well, actually, if you’re reading me, you’re probably saying something more akin to, “That’s fucking bullshit, Minna.”   Ah, yes, the dulcet tones of insurrection sounds mighty fine in the morning.  Ok, yes, it’s night, but still….

Anyway, let me tell you something about our economy.  My dad, who is a pretty big economic muckety-muck in Taiwan (and he has a Ph.D. in economics) is basically optimistic about the American economy because the real stuff is still there.  We still have the land and the people and the materials.  He wasn’t blowing steam up anyone’s ass the way McCain did, but his point was that our actual commodities, to loosely use that word, are still intact.

So, then, what about this big stock market hoo-ha, and what about Bernie Madoff?  Didn’t he rip off billions and billions?  Well, yes, he did.  However, he was partly able to do so because the market is mythical.  Basically, he told people, I am taking your money (which itself doesn’t seem so real now that we no longer use cash on a daily basis, which is partly the reason it’s so easy to run up a credit card debt, but let’s save that for another day), putting it in the market, where the money elves will give you back a thirty percent profit, no matter how poorly the rest of the market does.  You just sit back and don’t worry your pretty little head about it.

You know, what he did was shitty, and, yes, the SEC (that’s a college sports’ conference!) completely failed in their job, but I have a hard time not being a tad incredulous at all the people who fell for Madoff’s shit–hey!  I was writing his name as Madeoff.  Freudian slip, anyway?  Oh, and Alan Rickman HAS to play Madoff in the bioflick–without questioning any of it. 

Joe Nocera, a financial columnist for The New York Times, wrote this fine column on the Madoff victims.   He followed it up with this blog entry.  I really am a strong advocate of not blaming the victim, but in this case, they deserve a bit of it.  As Mr. Nocera points out, there were very few financial types who actually invested with Madoff.  Why?  Because they knew after talking to him that something wasn’t right.  It’s not coincidental, I think, that most of Madoff’s victims were celebrities, rather than financial people. 

Madoff succeeded for the same reason W. was able to propoganda us all the way into a fictitious war–nobody actually questioned what he was doing.  Those who should have (SEC in the first case, and the press in the second) either looked the other way or actively colluded in the deceit.  Then, we, the people, followed along.  Now, Madoff’s victims think the government should reimburse them because the SEC didn’t do its job.  As is pointed out in Mr. Nocera’s column and blog, the victims actively participated in their own demises as well.

Anyway, back to the fairy tale of the market.  Once upon a time, there was no market.  I know!  Can you believe it?  It’s true, though.   Then it was created, and all was good.  Then, the market gods rested up for the onflux of hedge funds, toxic assets (I guess they weren’t toxic to begin with), and much screwing around–in an economic sense.  People have carnally screwed around since the beginning of time. 

Suddenly, people who moved Monopoly money around for a living were GODS.  They could do no wrong.  They deserved a zillion dollars in risk-free bonus just for existing.  Hell, fucking AIG is still giving out $165 MILLION in bonuses because they are ‘contractually obligated’.  To me, this is just a Ponzi scheme of a worse order.  They are taking OUR money and giving it to the very people who drove the company into the ground.  The same old bullshit of having to reward the best and the brightest–what the fuck???????  And is Edward M. Liddy related to G. Gordon Liddy?  Hm.  Doesn’t appear to be so, but I don’t feel like doing any more research on the matter.

Anyway, let the so-called ‘best and brightest’ leave.  Let them ‘go Galt’ and disappear.  There are plenty of other bright and probably better people who can take their places.  I am fuming over this newest tidbit from our biggest welfare king (AIG), but that’s not the point of this entry, either.

The point is, the market is purely created.  Let’s take the Dow Jones.  Apparently, it tracks thirty stocks (!) and then extrapolates how the economy is doing based on how these stocks perform on a daily basis.  Now, let’s take a stock, say, AIG.  Yes, it’s fucking pick on AIG day.  EVERY day should be a fucking pick on AIG day until they are beaten into the ground.  Anyway, before they were removed from the Dow–just an aside, if they are no longer on the Dow (but are now on the dole), then do they still exist?–they went from $70 a share to less than $2 a share.  So, if you had one share of stock in AIG, you would have lost $68 on that share.  However, if you had sold it, say, before they collapsed in a big, steaming pile of shit, you might have made money on it.  Then again, if you bought it now, and somehow, they miraculously recover and reach $70 a share again, then you will be rich! 

The share, which isn’t even a piece of paper or written down or anything, is, to put it bluntly, an illusion.  We imbue it with whatever power it has, much like anything monetary.   The share is worth whatever people deem it to be worth.  That’s why it’s easy to rig the market (I learned that from Jim Cramer).  You just talk down a stock when you want it to tank, then you buy it, then you talk it up, and then you sell it.  Sure, it’s illegal, but only Shug Martha had to go to jail for insider trading–and that’s mostly because she’s a woman who succeeded without being nice.

So.  Over a thousand words later (I had to make you pay for the solution somehow), here it is.  Remember, I am not an economist.  I was, however, a psych major, and my mom is a psychologist.  She and I both know that this crisis is more psychological than economical.  Therefore, this is my solution.  Remember how this week, Citibank circulated an intra-office memo about how even though their stock isn’t worth the paper it isn’t printed on, they are still fine, fine, fine?  By the way, FUCK YOU Citibank for using taxpayers’ money to bust unions before they even start up.  Anyway, the Dow went up for three days straight after the Citibank memo was ‘leaked.’  Really.  A bankrupt company gives a pep talk, and the market goes up.

Here’s the money shot (pun intended):  Make ALL the failing companies to write pep-talk memos and circulate them around their offices, and the Dow will soar over ten thousand again!  People will think the crisis is over, and they will buy back into the fairy tale.  Then, we can rebuild our house of cards and do it all over again.  There.  Problem solved.  Next up, world peace.

                                                                                                                                         6:31 p.m.   1/7/05

What’s this I feel coming on? Is it a rant? No, it’s a rave! How novel. How unexpected! I actually have something good to say about something for a change. What is it, you may ask? What has me feeling inspired and hopeful? Why, only the best political commentator, bar none. Who would that be, you’re asking yourself. George Will? Please. Al Franken? Ah, a favorite to be sure, but no, not him. Michael Moore? No, the angry one is not the target of my love this time. What about the oh-so-sexy Jon Stewart? Hm. Let me pause and reflect on the magnificent Mr. Stewart for a minute before reluctantly admitting that it’s not him, either. It’s Huey Freeman, a young African American boy who speaks the truth as he sees it. True, he is paranoid, grumpy, outraged at the world and self-righteous, but hey, so am I, and I’m three times his age.

Who is Huey Freeman, you ask? The star of his very own comic, The Boondocks, written brilliantly by the very talented Aaron McGruder. With his sidekick, Michael Caesar-Brooklyn, fool!-who provides much needed hilarity and his little brother, Riley, who aspires to be the biggest, baddest thug in Woodcrest-not a difficult thing in a milquetoast suburb-Huey takes on political issues with the fearlessness of Jet Li taking down the baddies in a Hong Kong action flick. He is rocking the ‘fro as he tells the truth as he sees it, and he doesn’t back down from confrontation, no matter how ridiculous or inane. In a world of bland, inoffensive comics, Huey–along with his creator, Aaron–is a breath of much-needed fresh air.

The Boondocks is one of those comics you either love or hate. Some people think there’s no room for political satire in a comic, but what a perfect venue to express controversial ideas. I don’t know who keeps perpetuating the idea that comics are only for children, but they need to stop. Comics are a great place to flesh out adult themes and messages because of the vivid images that can be provided through such a medium. Don’t believe me? Read a graphic novel or watch an adult cartoon. There is nothing fluffy or comforting about something like Neil Gaiman’s Sandman series, but it’s a joy to read, nonetheless.

Back to Huey and the gang. I remember when I read this comic for the first time in one of the two major Twin Cities’ papers. I laughed out loud and wanted to know who would dare write such a comic. I couldn’t wait to read The Boondocks every day, and it’s the only comic that provided me with consistent amusement. In fact, in all the time I’ve been reading it, I’d say I didn’t laugh out loud at it perhaps a handful of times. It’s the only comic which constantly tickles my admittedly macabre funny bone, and it’s the only comic which I feel ‘gets it’ over a long period of time. It’s also one of the only, if not the only comic to be yanked from one of the aforementioned local papers for being too controversial. White readers wrote in saying they thought it was racially divisive. This was after the strip about Riley being proud of making a white woman pull her daughter to the other side of the street when she saw him coming. The complainers wrote that it just perpetuated negative stereotypes, quite missing the point. I was seriously pissed when the paper punked out and canceled the comic.

Luckily, I have ucomics.com (now gocomics.com) which features The Boondocks daily. I also have all the books out so far, and I’m now reading A Right to be Hostile. Even though I’ve read all the comics before, I still find them astonishingly funny. See, that’s the most important thing about this strip. It’s damned funny. It’s edgy and strident and angry, which makes for good comedy. There is no placating nature to it. There is no underlying apology for being primarily about black people with few white people in it. The white people who are present are pretty minimal and mostly racist, but to varying degrees. The reason it works, however, is that it’s true to life. Racism exists in every form, and there isn’t a false step in any of the characters.

The reason that some black people don’t like it is because McGruder doesn’t let anybody off, including black people. He calls the shots as he sees them, including taking on a cultural icon such as BET. Yes, the station of the jiggling butts and the bling-bling. McGruder won’t let anyone get away with anything, not even Huey, his little revolutionary. Huey is not this perfect little kid who just wants to do good in the world. He is an angry, hostile, smart little kid who sees nothing wrong with breaking laws that don’t make sense to him. He’s self-righteous and enjoys being a downer. He has a hard time looking at anything positive, and he oozes disdain. Sometimes, even his best friend, Caesar, doesn’t know what to do with him.

Then there’s Riley. Ah, Riley. What to say about the little thug-wannabe. Some say that Riley is just a stereotype, but it’s not true. He’s a little boy who sees the rappers getting theirs, and he rightfully concludes that he should be getting paid, too. He likes to listen to Lauren Hill, however, though he won’t admit it. And he watches Oprah, though he will deny that as well. He’s a thug, yes, but he’s also a confused boy who has taken the capitalist message to heart, even if he does twist it up a bit. The series where he’s enamored with the NRA is a scream, but there’s also a kernel of truth to it. That, my friends, is another reason I like this strip so much. McGruder tackles real issues, not made-up ones. After 9/11, he was one of the only comics to even address the issue. While all the others were rah-rahing as were most of the media and people in general, Huey was keeping it real, doing what he does best-hating on Bush.

The thing is, everything he rails about is something I’ve railed about in my own time. When he makes comparisons between Bush and Hitler-saying the comparison isn’t fair because Hitler was elected. This was before the last election, obviously-I had to admire the audacity to actually put that in print. It’s something I would have thought but wouldn’t have the nerve to say it. Not only does McGruder say it, he prints it for millions to see. That’s courage of conviction, my friends, an admirable trait indeed. He continues to say these things even though people want him to shut the fuck up. The fact that he can say it with a sense of humor only makes it more admirable. Rarely does the humor turn bitter, which I consider amazing.

Then there’s the narcissistic factor in my liking this comic strip. Huey reminds me a lot of myself-except for the ‘fro, of course. He does things I’ve done or wish to do, and he thinks of the things I think about. The current series depicts him handing out coupons to friends and family members for a free one-hour lecture of his choice. When Caesar points out that Huey gave him a James Brown t-shirt, Huey remarks, ‘That’s because I like you.’ Then, the strip where Huey is about to lecture Tom about how he personally ruined the Democratic Party had me rolling on the floor-it is that funny. The point is that I’d do something like that. Hell, I send those kind of e-mails to friends all the time. Not because I don’t like my friends, but because I get so damn frustrated. Take the recent moral value shtick which got President Bush elected. I don’t know how many e-mails and essays I wrote in decrying that one, just like Huey would have done.

Then, there’s the fact that Huey and his gang give me respite from the world. Yes, it’s political and it tackles current issues which are sometimes difficult to talk about. However, it’s first and foremost a comic strip which means it’s primary focus is to make me laugh. That’s it, that’s all, and it does its job admirably. When my mind is filled with heavy thoughts, I turn to The Boondocks to cheer me up. There is nothing like a laugh to make things seem a little less dreary, something Huey would do well to learn. However, I wouldn’t want him to cheer up because much of the humor in the strip has to do with Huey’s discontent.

Another reason I love this comic strip is because I learn new things when I read it. More than once, I’ve had to Google something-usually a name-I either didn’t know or vaguely recognized. I am not one of those people who want to passively be fed pabulum while I sit with my mouth agape. I enjoy learning new things, and I think it’s refreshing to have to bust out the social dictionary while reading a comic strip. It makes me feel erudite when I do catch the obscure references. Also, I like the fact that the comic doesn’t talk down to its audience. It assumes that the reader can hang with a little highbrow culture thrown into the mix. I’d much rather have to look things up than to roll my eyes because of the juvenile language in a comic strip. I like to be challenged, and McGruder is the exemplary at pulling this off without seeming condescending about it.

Finally, I take issue with people who say McGruder is promoting racial stereotypes. He is not! He is using them to cleverly subvert the reader’s own biases. Anyone too stupid to see that ought not be reading it, anyway. Besides, ever get a look at Beetle Bailey? Besides being criminally unfunny, it’s got some of the worst racial stereotyping I’ve ever seen. The obsequious slanty-eyed Asian guy who kisses butt to make it up the ranks. The thick-lipped, bug-eyed black man who…I’m not sure what he does, but the visual representation is offensive enough. The buxom secretary who has to fend off the old geezer’s passes. That’s not racial stereotyping? That’s not offensive? And yet, I don’t recall anyone clamoring for…who writes the damn thing, anyway? Mort Walker? Is that his name? That strip’s been around forever. Anyway, I don’t see anyone clamoring for him to turn in the towel.

In conclusion, I urge everybody to read this comic strip with an open mind. Get beyond the surface and see the brilliance that is The Boondocks. This is one of the three best comics ever, and I will not discuss this point. Go meet Huey, Riley, their grandfather, Jazmine and her parents, Caesar, the hysterical Cindy, and the rest of the characters who represent Woodcrest, word. It’ll be the best present you give yourself, fresh for ‘05, sucker!