Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Dicks, Dicks, And More Dicks

I watched as much of the R debate last night as I could stand, when it didn't conflict with Jeopardy, and with my desire to remain sane. All the waving dicks must have made for quite a breeze in that understated conservative cloth coat venue. Foreign policy: punch the Russians in the nose, kill civilans to send a message, and, for gods' sake, build up the 6th Fleet to take out those Toyotas.

The harder the dick, the faster it waved, the louder the cheers. (Carly doesn't have a dick, so I'll assume she waved an aborted fetus while I was listening to Alex Trebek over-pronounce ze Francais.) Rand Paul, on stage only by way of fuzzy math, was actually the nearly sane one, pointing out that foreign policy doesn't usually boil down to a single simple sentence. He got a few cheers, but the needle only went all the way to the right for the "kill 'em all before they kill us all" and "screw the rest of the world" stuff.

A high point was when Chris "former prosecuter so I know dicks" Christie was asked how to keep Americans from succumbing to 24/7 fear, and he responded by trying to scare the shit out of everyone. A typical point was when Ted "second coming and not just 'cause I'm waving my dick" Cruz mentioned how many illegals Bill Clinton and George Bush had deported, and stopped there.

If what they all said about Barack and Hillary were true, you'd think we'd all be wearing clothes with holes in them, sitting on sidewalks selling pencils; that factories have ground to a halt, that our military consists of a couple of probably gay women with muskets, and that streets are crawling with illegals; that our planes are mostly biplanes and ships have sails, and that they're all dwarfed in number and power by the least of other nations. And, of course, that there's an ISIS flag flying over that white house with all the black people in it.

One can only hope that in the only somewhat improbable event that any of those people were to become president, there'd be someone within shouting distance of them encourage a second thought, or maybe, in their case, even a first one, before engaging in their shoot first, consider complexities later ideas of engagement in the world. Because if not, we're profoundly, deeply, irretrieveably screwed.

And, in all seriousness: shame on those people in the audience and anyone else shallow enough to like it, who cheer them on. Worse, shame on America for becoming a place where such people represent half of us.

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