Midnight CowboyJohn Kerry speaking at last night's midnight rally:
"Misleading our nation into war in Iraq makes you unfit to lead this nation."
"Doing nothing while this nation loses millions of jobs makes you unfit to lead this nation. Letting 45 million Americans go without health care makes you unfit to lead this nation. Letting the Saudi royal family control our energy costs makes you unfit to lead this nation. Handing out billions of government contracts to Halliburton while you're still on their payroll makes you unfit. That's the record of George Bush and Dick Cheney, and it's not going to change."
Uh, yeah. Unfortunately, according to the polls (and disturbing reports that scream: If the elections were held now, Bush would win by majority electoral vote!), many, many people still believe the lies. What to do, what to do...
If I were magical and could make people do anything I wanted with a switch of my bulbous nose, I would conjure up the bound and gagged top level Republicans who know the truth, hate that truth, desperately wish to reveal the truth, and would make them sing like a drunken murder of crows. I know they're there. Their eyes haunt me when I watch them on T.V. as they gently defend the president, eyes full of knowledge and secrets and self-loathing. Some of them are good people, people who actually do want *all* Americans to be free, devoid of fear, safe, respected, *prosperous*. But they cannot and will not speak out because nobody but NOBODY crosses the thin redneck line, and I have a feeling that it has little to do with loyalty. When people are faced with whistle-blowing or self-preservation, most will save their own ass. Which I totally understand.
Someday, perhaps many years from now, the truth will be revealed. Sure, a lot of the redneck warriors will be very old, some deceased, but the truth will eventually come, sentences will be passed, and those of us who knew the truth all along will be vindicated. Someday.
On a lighter, humiliating note: I checked out Poppy Z. Brite's journal today (I love this woman's humor, her foodie-talk, her balls), and saw that she picked up "From the Borderlands." How lovely and cool, I thought. I also thought, "Oh, God, I hate myself." Why do I hate myself? Well, because my bio is quite possibly the most retarded bio to ever see print in a mass market publication. I'm serious. When I wrote the bio for "Borderlands 5," I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Should I be serious or funny? Write it in first or third? Include publication credits? Upcoming credits? Include blurbs from authors who are reputable that will validate my worth because I'm such a nobody?" I had no fucking idea.
And, with regret and much embarrassment, it shows just how clueless I was at that moment in time. All of the other contributors have snazzy bios, funny bios, bios that are professional yet interesting. I know how to write a bio, dammit. Funny ones, quirky ones that show my personality in one hundred words or less, but I chose to appear as an amateur -- it is a bio suitable for Joe Stank's Desktop Zine. And I hate myself. And there is nothing I can do about it.
I haven't seen the paperback yet, and I'm praying that the bios aren't included. Oh, but I'm sure they are. They most certainly are.
And I can already feel the "Man, this chick is so lame" vibes coming from readers. From people like Poppy Z. Brite, perhaps even from you.
I am so ashamed.