Thursday, October 09, 2003
Conan the Rotarian
Vanessa Gera, Associated Press Writer, and conduit for greater global fluids, reminds us that the "World Marvels at Schwarzenegger's Victory", October 8, 2003, 7:12 AM EDT.
Oh sure, the suspense was gripping. After two months of gadrooned platiutudes, ga-ga and fluff and slow-pitch fatman whiffle-vetting from the television news pol-op punditry, free round the clock all Arnold all da time campaign commercials camouflaged as news reporting courtesy of the MSNBCCNNFOXNoise corporatist cable cabal, and an Arnold campaign strategy whose motto was essentially - you get to look under the hood after you buy the hummer - the entire runaway bus freeway pileup stunt comes to a predicable end. The leader hero emerges victorious with the heroine at his side. Credits roll. Another brainless action idol thriller rakes the box office markers into the drawer, tallies up the boodle, pays the catering truck and announces the dawn of a new era of starmaking. The nectar America craves. Style trumps substance and the television news-reader media minks and company store trumpets begin honking like geese harkening a new equinox.
A Revolutionary tour-de-force! - A terrific end of the summer feel good comedy drama musical for the whole family! - Fabulous! - An exhilarating monosyllabic action adventure romance. - Titilating! --- did I mention it was Titilating! And, Fabulous? Fabulous and titilating!
Chris and Peggy loved it! Each squealed with breathless delight as the action unfolded before their wide impressionable eyes. The suspense mounts as a Republican wave curls and crashes and rolls up the beach, pumped ashore to the throbbing soundtrack of Wagner's Der fliegende Hollander and Parsifal. Peggy coos and warbles and reminds Chris of the faithful majesty of it all. Chris reminds her of the young Austrian immigrant who leaves home to make it big in the arts and politics, unrelenting, impelled, succeeding on pure muscle and rank celebrity, a driven charismatic personality, merciless raw ambition and a truculent predisposition to terminate any and all opposition. A popular rags to power conquest kickshaw exalted by cheering adoring unquestioning starstruck throngs in his adopted increasingly easily provoked new homeland - saluted as a victorious expatriate gladiator by his native countryman - a profligate conquerer barbarian magnifico come to lead the beer hall booboisie into the next tax shelter from the storm. Peggy swoons as Chris reels, each barks up some profuse commentary on defying the conventional wisdom and the triumph of will.
It all sounds eerily familiar.
Chris lurches rightward toward Peggy who sits quivering, pitter-patter, like a fledgling bird in a spring wind, excited with expectations which challenge her cognitive dissonance. His large marauding paws grope for her pert heaving breasts and she welcomes his advances, submits, two hungry searching tongues quarry each others hot breath in the glimmering lambent light of the theater of the absurd - fireworks explode, the surf crashes and roars through the piles and pillars beneath the Santa Monica pier. Arnold Schwarzenegger is declared the Governor of California. Somewhere in America a predator falls upon its prey.
Lawrence O'Donnell, watching the show from the second row, leans forward and slaps the balmed paramours upside the head. "Hey, take it to an all expense paid executive suite will ya! - We got adults here!." To no avail.
In South Florida a crazed right-wing radio talk show codeine junkie chug-a-lugs another half gallon bottle of morphine derived analgesic and lapses into an hypnotic babble about huge black hermaphrodidic centipedes, "this Great Beast" and "writhing orgasims of purience."
An enormous polished gasoline drunk vintage 1953 combination Sno-Cat and sugar cane harvester rolls to a stop beyond the roped heave and roil of the worshiping media vulgas and bobble-bewitched fanforande while marketing consultants and GOP image thaumaturgists twitch with intoxicted arousal like bald-headed hermits at a French can-can dance.
MSNBC's "liberal media" mole Alex Witt squirms with captivated delight and licks at the bulbous knob of a hot microphone. The driver side door swings wide open, red ballons cascade from above like blood drops from a sacrificial gambit strung from the firmament and America's newest high school homecoming clod elect emerges from the cab grinning like the hideous engorged head on a fiberglass puppet in a Mardi Gras parade.
Conan the Rotarian is - arriviste, baby.
GRAZ, Austria -- From an Internet chatroom in China to Arnold Schwarzenegger's boyhood home in Austria, the world marveled Wednesday at a uniquely American political triumph with more suspense than a Hollywood script.
Oh sure, the suspense was gripping. After two months of gadrooned platiutudes, ga-ga and fluff and slow-pitch fatman whiffle-vetting from the television news pol-op punditry, free round the clock all Arnold all da time campaign commercials camouflaged as news reporting courtesy of the MSNBCCNNFOXNoise corporatist cable cabal, and an Arnold campaign strategy whose motto was essentially - you get to look under the hood after you buy the hummer - the entire runaway bus freeway pileup stunt comes to a predicable end. The leader hero emerges victorious with the heroine at his side. Credits roll. Another brainless action idol thriller rakes the box office markers into the drawer, tallies up the boodle, pays the catering truck and announces the dawn of a new era of starmaking. The nectar America craves. Style trumps substance and the television news-reader media minks and company store trumpets begin honking like geese harkening a new equinox.
A Revolutionary tour-de-force! - A terrific end of the summer feel good comedy drama musical for the whole family! - Fabulous! - An exhilarating monosyllabic action adventure romance. - Titilating! --- did I mention it was Titilating! And, Fabulous? Fabulous and titilating!
Chris and Peggy loved it! Each squealed with breathless delight as the action unfolded before their wide impressionable eyes. The suspense mounts as a Republican wave curls and crashes and rolls up the beach, pumped ashore to the throbbing soundtrack of Wagner's Der fliegende Hollander and Parsifal. Peggy coos and warbles and reminds Chris of the faithful majesty of it all. Chris reminds her of the young Austrian immigrant who leaves home to make it big in the arts and politics, unrelenting, impelled, succeeding on pure muscle and rank celebrity, a driven charismatic personality, merciless raw ambition and a truculent predisposition to terminate any and all opposition. A popular rags to power conquest kickshaw exalted by cheering adoring unquestioning starstruck throngs in his adopted increasingly easily provoked new homeland - saluted as a victorious expatriate gladiator by his native countryman - a profligate conquerer barbarian magnifico come to lead the beer hall booboisie into the next tax shelter from the storm. Peggy swoons as Chris reels, each barks up some profuse commentary on defying the conventional wisdom and the triumph of will.
It all sounds eerily familiar.
Chris lurches rightward toward Peggy who sits quivering, pitter-patter, like a fledgling bird in a spring wind, excited with expectations which challenge her cognitive dissonance. His large marauding paws grope for her pert heaving breasts and she welcomes his advances, submits, two hungry searching tongues quarry each others hot breath in the glimmering lambent light of the theater of the absurd - fireworks explode, the surf crashes and roars through the piles and pillars beneath the Santa Monica pier. Arnold Schwarzenegger is declared the Governor of California. Somewhere in America a predator falls upon its prey.
Lawrence O'Donnell, watching the show from the second row, leans forward and slaps the balmed paramours upside the head. "Hey, take it to an all expense paid executive suite will ya! - We got adults here!." To no avail.
In South Florida a crazed right-wing radio talk show codeine junkie chug-a-lugs another half gallon bottle of morphine derived analgesic and lapses into an hypnotic babble about huge black hermaphrodidic centipedes, "this Great Beast" and "writhing orgasims of purience."
An enormous polished gasoline drunk vintage 1953 combination Sno-Cat and sugar cane harvester rolls to a stop beyond the roped heave and roil of the worshiping media vulgas and bobble-bewitched fanforande while marketing consultants and GOP image thaumaturgists twitch with intoxicted arousal like bald-headed hermits at a French can-can dance.
MSNBC's "liberal media" mole Alex Witt squirms with captivated delight and licks at the bulbous knob of a hot microphone. The driver side door swings wide open, red ballons cascade from above like blood drops from a sacrificial gambit strung from the firmament and America's newest high school homecoming clod elect emerges from the cab grinning like the hideous engorged head on a fiberglass puppet in a Mardi Gras parade.
Conan the Rotarian is - arriviste, baby.
