Sunday, October 28, 2012
So we’re getting down to it now. I predicted an Obama victory, and I’m standing by it. (Not that my opinion matters, as MSNBC still hasn’t responded to my audition tape, and Fox News sent it back with a grammatically incorrect death threat.) In a few short days we’ll have our results, and in a few short days after that, the courts will rule on who actually won. (Booyah! Take that, American democracy!) Then we’ll get four to six months of relative silence before campaigning ramps up again. It never ends. I support monarchies of old if for no other reason than you generally don’t get a new lord and ruler every four years, and you DEFINITELY don’t have to haggle over which child to elevate to the throne 365 days a year.
From a comedic standpoint, campaigning is awesome. It gave us the Republican primaries, with such luminaries as Herman “Pizza Man” Cain, Rick “Two Guns” Perry, and Michelle “My Husband’s Not Gay, I Swear” Bachman. If I’d written a screenplay that reflected the primaries with 100% accuracy, no one would have bought it - too unrealistic. Every day there was something to make you laugh, sometimes every hour. Good times.
But then the primary vanished. The crucible of public scrutiny burned off the slag and left us with the pure, unadulterated gold of Mittington Romney. That made it real. A horde of Republicans is hilarious. A single one that has a chance of ruling the most powerful nation in the world is kind of scary. It’s important to remember that while Mittworth has been the metaphorical weather-vane, he’s still a card-carrying Republican, which means at some point he’ll be expected by the party to support their official policies. That’s where the horror movie starts. Listen to Republicans and read their official party platform. Scary stuff.
My plan is to flip from one channel to another on November 6, hoping to reclaim the comedy. Fox News, MSNBC, CNN, CBC... somewhere among them I should be able to find something funny. If only John Stewart or Rick Mercer was having an Election Special. Listening to the rhetoric through the aperture of a comedian is pretty much the only way I can suppress my natural indignation at the lies, the insults, and the possibility (even if remote) of Canada being next door to a right-wing overlord for the next four years. The Bush years were not good. I don’t want to go back to them. We got involved in a war, yet somehow pissed off not only America but also squandered decades of hard-won international prestige. The current batch of GOP elephants make Reagan look like a Kennedy.
Of course, we have our own mini-Bush in Stephen “I Turned Off My Emotion Chip” Harper. It isn’t really fair of me to mock American lunacy when we still keep right on electing Robo-PM. (Why, fellow Canucks, why? Please stop it, I’m begging you. Of course, I’m pretty sure no one reading this is voting Conservative... or are they? Closet right-wingers, your preference is a CHOICE. You don’t have to live that way. Let us cure you. You can embrace socialism. Bring us one step closer to Star Trek Utopia.)
Obama for four more years. Harper gone in two. I live in hope.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
(This needs to be prefaced by the assertion that I am not, myself, currently being presented with the following situation. So far as I know, anyway, and you know what they say: ignorance is bliss. Knock on wood, all that crap.)
What’s the proper etiquette to deal with a “cheatin’ woman?”
Some background here: Brandon has several radio stations, but only two if you don’t like country music (I don’t). One plays more current pop, the other older stuff. For every chunk of music you hear, it’s sandwiched by really annoying advertisements (radio ads are so, so painful). So when an ad hits one station you jump to the other and hope to get lucky and get music. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.
What’s important about this little game is that it resulted, the other day, in my experiencing, almost back-to-back, the songs “Hey Joe” by Jimi Hendrix and “Wake Up Call” by Maroon 5. In the former, our protagonist (Joe) is heading out with a gun to put a pill into his unfaithful woman. The latter tune by Maroon 5 describes a gentleman who, when presented with a similar lack of fidelity, expresses his disappointment by putting the competing suitor in a grave. So, who has the right of it?
Some of you may be suggesting, with some validity, that either reaction is a little excessive. Most people would jump for “secret option C:” breaking up. For argument’s sake, however, we’re only going to deal with options A and B rather than muddying the waters by throwing rationality into the mix. So... option A, you eliminate the cheater. Or, option B, you eliminate the interloper. If the concept of murder disturbs you, think of it this way: which makes for a better story idea? The vengeful lover hunts down... who?
Technically, the trespassing individual (ie, the dude your lady is banging) hasn’t done anything wrong. He didn’t, after all, promise to be faithful to you or anything like that. He’s just a guy who liked the look of your woman and did what anyone does when they are presented with something they want: they try and get it. At worst, he’s broken social convention, but certainly a much less egregious sin than cheating.
By this logic it’s the woman that gets it. However, that leaves you with nothing (well, a hefty prison sentence and nothing). In theory, you still find your woman desirable. So if you kill her, you can’t have her. Which means you’re back to option B: eliminate the interloper. By getting rid of all the competition, you win (sort of a “reactive default” victory).
It’s a tough call. What would the fictional murderous version of you do?