The Cognitive Dissonance of the Modern American Conservative

I’ve long learned to skim over online comments left by wingnuts both right and left. Just as you know to steer clear of shouty-crackers schizos in the streets, you shouldn’t engage or even acknowledge extremists.

Still, I couldn’t help but respond to a right-wing whackjob the other day, who stated that Las Vegas meth-head shooters Jared and Amanda Miller were socialists because they were Neo-Nazis.

Barack Obama Telephone

ELECTIONS 2012: Seeking That Objective Reality

From the viewpoint of my own particular reality, it makes no sense whatsoever to vote along party lines.  It’s a type of tribal thinking that I have never been able to grasp; it just seems so terribly wrong.  And when it comes to America in particular, with its leadership position in the world, it seems all the wronger.  As with any job, we hire a person based on qualifications, not party allegiance; that’s something China and Iran does, not here.

A piece I wrote over a year ago (shit, but this election has been endless!), “Do Republicans Dream of Electric Elephants?,” has been getting some traction recently on a political forum by way of a quotation of mine someone appropriately named Bonkers reposted.  I’d forgotten I’d written these words, but I stand by them even more today:

I guess my warped way of thinking just can’t embrace the notion of supporting a political party.  I understand the need for governance of some kind to maintain social order, I understand being conservative in your views, or liberal, but I question the whole concept of being part of a political organization when so many members of that party are so manifestly corrupt, morally subversive or just plain vile.  Why would you want to be part of anything that has even a little bit of rot in it?

Rachel Maddow

America’s Croissant Moment

Like any media organization, we have to keep an eye on our stats to determine which kinds of stories are more popular. Despite the fact that our most viewed article on a single day ever, We Own You, Marcia Bachmann, was a political one, in general we do much better adhering to our core competencies: entertainment and fashion.  When this site was still a group blog, I used to joke that we aspired to be as fluffy as a Dior tulle gown, and I stick by that joke. Despite the fact Galliano has stopped designing for that venerable couturier, no doubt entirely because of my piece about once having caused him to be spanked, their gowns have become no less fluffy under Bill Gaytten’s design direction.

Our Outhouse

THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES | THE INDIA FILES

by James Killough

Perhaps my relentless optimism has finally driven me to a completely delusional state, but I feel there’s a tangible change in the air, a change for the better, like we’re finally turning this old rusted tankard we all live on around.

The Magical Weekend began once upon a time last Friday, when the fairy princess dressed by a dead queen stepped into her carriage and the world smiled in the reflection of her happiness.  Princess Kate waved her magic wand, which unfroze our hitherto Fearful Leader from over two years of slumber.  As he rose from his sepulcher amidst the briars and shook off the cobwebs, King Barack seized his vorpal sword, strode into the banquet and slew the fruminous Donaldsnatch, after which, with what seemed to be the same stroke, he felled the elusive Osama Bin Jabberwocky.

This is the bit when, after the witch is killed, eternal winter melts away and Narnia kicks into bloom in an explosion of time-lapse foliage.  Prancing satyrs like me, until now locked in stone, surge forth once again to roam the hills, making sweet music, drinking wine and chasing other satyrs instead of nymphs.