My list of Top 10 Epic Political Fails of 2008

I know there are two days of potential failure to go, so perhaps this is premature. But here is my list of top 10 epic political fails of 2008. Discuss!

#10 -- PUMA Movement: A “movement” in the same sense and level of importance of “bowel movement,” PUMA might be rated #1 if entertainment value and copious evidence of failure were the chief criteria. However, in my poll, consequence counts too, so PUMA struggles into the top 10 at the bottom slot. And only because I personally found them amusing. By rights, the “Bratz” vs “Barbie” kerfluffle should edge them out.

#9 -- Joe the Plumber: Like a cockroach scrambling for purchase in a swirling toilet, John McCain latched onto the sturdiest-looking turd in the bowl as his campaign foundered. He chose poorly. Not only did bullet-headed lunk (not) Joe the (not) Plumber say wingnutty shit that alienated the McCain supporters with triple-digit IQs (both of them!) and leave McCain in the lurch at rallies, he subsequently disavowed his erstwhile patron and made the world's worst amateur porn flick.

#8 -- Fred Thompson’s GOP Presidential Candidacy: Gravitas bestowed by a rumbling baritone voice and numerous flinty-eyed performances on film and TV? Check. Confirmation of virility ostentatiously conveyed by decades-younger wife? Check. Actual vigor and energy? Not so much. The Great GOP Hope clearly preferred a scotch and a nap to campaigning. Oh well.

#7 -- Mitt Romney’s $35M Investment: Romney’s chief credential is his financial acumen, but what does it say about his investment prowess that he blew $35M clams on his own crappy campaign and failed to convince anyone but Hugh Hewitt of his inevitability? His campaign stunk like a stream of runny dog shit flowing from atop a Country Estate Wagon. But lefty bloggers had the Five Brothers Blog to ridicule for a few precious months.

#6 -- Paultards: At least their heroine Ayn Rand managed to write some crappy books that inspired a future Fed chairman to enact economy-wrecking policies. Ron Paul supporters’ only accomplishments of note were to fund a stupid blimp and organize flying monkey swarms to derail GOP internet discussions. However, their rEVOLution blimp alone entitles them to primacy over the PUMAs, who couldn’t even gas up the Mini-Winnie RV of Haka Doom.

#5 -- Giuliani’s Electoral Strategy: What the fuck was that all about? After focusing solely on states that start with an “F” and end with a “Lorida,” Giuliana got his ass handed to him in the state by both McCain and Romney, who each received twice as many votes as Giuliani did. A noun, a verb and 9/11 only go so far.

#4 -- L’affair Edwards: I long suspected Edwards of being a self-aggrandizing phony. But his focus on poverty during the primary season struck me as at least partially authentic and admirable -- and remember, this was before Great Depression Part Deux struck and made it more likely that many of us will join Edwards’ displaced mill workers in the breadline. But then he had to go put a camera-toting chippie on the payroll and get ambushed in the toilet of a fancy hotel while visiting his love child. Idiot.

#3 -- George W. Bush: The opposite of King Midas (Gnik Sadim?), everything he touches turns to shit. He’s topped my political fail list for the better part of a decade now, and his attempts to salvage a legacy at this late hour are as contemptible as they are pathetic. Digby said it best: “They need accept that the best they can hope for is to end up among history's inept clowns instead of history's villains. It's not much, but it's all they've got.”

#2 -- Sarah Palin: Oh, I’ll admit, she had me worried at first. On paper, she looked good. But then she opened her piehole, launching 987,693 punch lines and finally dooming the McCain campaign. The only question now is whether the sticky little starbursts she coaxed from the (ahem) hard right will congeal into a resolve to repeat the epic fail in 2012. Let’s hope so.

#1 -- John McCain: To be fair, McCain had Bush around his neck like a millstone, but whose fault is that? If McCain truly possessed the principles and honor on which he bases his personal mythology, he could have set himself up as a credible opponent to Bush ages ago and had a real shot at winning this year. But he defended the indefensible. He said dumb things and stuck to them. He needlessly alienated a sycophantic press corp. He squandered the unearned good will he’d spent decades deceitfully amassing. So he’s the top loo-hoo-hoo-ZER of 2008 in my book.

So what did I miss?

[Cross-posted at Rumproast]

The most awesomest Christmas song evar!

Busted!!1!1! A Pre-Christmas Story

My 10-year-old daughter is living proof of the old adage that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree: She’s every bit as sneaky as I am, and just as eager to spoil carefully orchestrated surprises. But knowing this gives me the advantage of being able to anticipate her moves and thwart them. (God, I can’t wait until she hits puberty! What fun we’ll have!)

Anyhoo, she desperately wants a Wii for Christmas and has been making that known to everyone who will listen for the past six months at least. Well, she’s getting one, but I am just as determined for it to be a surprise as she is to find out what she’s getting in advance.

I’ve been dropping not-so-subtle hints that a Wii is just not in the cards this year. Hard times. Scarcity of supply and all of that. I even enlisted my honest-to-a-fault sister in my psych-out scheme: We took a longish car trip last weekend, and -- knowing the kid was listening in from the back seat -- my sister and I discussed the impossibility of buying a Wii since the stores are sold out -- all in the context of my sister’s made-up “friend,” who wants to buy a Wii for his kid.

My daughter helpfully suggested that scads of Wiis are available on eBay. “Too late,” I said. “Auntie’s friend couldn’t possibly get one shipped in time.” (Not really true as of last Saturday, but what does the kid know about express shipping?) She sighed and sank lower in the seat, sure her Wii dreams were dashed.

Then yesterday, we received a FedEx package. As soon as the truck pulled up, I told the kid that the package was absolutely none of her business, so step away from that door and do NOT attempt to divine anything from that mailing label. I mean it, Missy. Santa will pass you by, you little sneak.

I made a big show of how heavy the package was, thinking that would throw her off, but she just observed that Wiis are heavy. “Really?” I said. “I didn’t think they were any heavier than a laptop. But as you can plainly see, this package isn’t at all Wii-shaped.”

“ Could be a Wii and a bunch of games,” she replied. (And it was, damn it all!)

So I hustled the package off to my bedroom. I locked the door and opened it, ripping off and pocketing the mailing label. Wii with Fit crapola. I took out the enclosed console and game boxes and hid them in odd places -- one at the bottom of a laundry hamper. Another in a suitcase on the top shelf of my closet, etc. Then I took the box they came in, filled it with books and placed it atop a 6-foot-tall armoire. Later, I went to my office and used my web cam to take a picture of myself looking stern and pointing an accusatory finger. I captioned it with “BUSTED!!1!1!!” and printed it out. I went back to my room and placed the picture in the box, on top of all the books.

Later that afternoon, the kid came into my room while I was there and looked longingly at the box on the armoire. “Don’t you even think about looking in that box,” I told her. “I WON’T!” she replied, and flounced off. Uh-huh.

Later still, I told her I would be in my home office taking a conference call. She could barely contain her glee. I shut the door and waited, giving her time to sneak off to my bedroom and drag a chair over to the armoire so she could reach the box.

I snuck down the hall just as she was putting it on the floor and opening the flaps. She made this dismayed “Gahhhhh!” sound when she saw the enclosed picture. I didn’t even alert her to my presence, much less gloat -- I just snuck back to my office and loudly opened the door while she scrambled to replace the box. Heh.

[Cross-posted at Rumproast]

A filthy lie

The lie: HuffPo sports headline: Detroit Lions: Worst NFL Record Ever As They Go 0-15.

The truth: The Tampa Bay Bucs went 0-26, losing every single game in their 1976 inaugural season and the first 12 games the following year to finish up 2-12 in 1977. The Tampa Bay Bucs, not the Detroit Lions, hold the worst NFL record ever.

Sure, the current NFL regular season is longer than it was in 1976, so the Lions can claim to have lost more games in a single season – on a technicality. But to try to usurp our historic record as the all-time worst team? That’s bullshit.

The Lions won their 2nd to last game in 2007, so they’re currently on a 16 game losing streak. Lose 10 more and THEN come back and talk to me. That record is OURS, bitchez.

Like the surviving members of the perfect 1972 Dolphins squad, I’ll have champagne on ice to uncork when I know our record is safe. That’ll happen sometime next year.

Going to the inauguration? Pissed off about Warren?

Then check out this Kos diary by Allan Brauer, who has a great, non-disruptive idea about how to show solidarity against Warren's brand of bigotry. Wish I could be there to join in.

Like most cretinous, right-wing god-botherers, Warren doesn't confine his condescension to the LGBT community; women are also patronized and atheists are judged not fit to hold public office. Check out excerpts of this pastoral guide unearthed by Sully -- it was written by Warren and other church leaders and distributed to the Saddleback sheep, um, flock:

[On wifely submission]

Submission does not mean women are under the authority of men in general. I love the King James Version's rendition of Ephesians 5:22 "Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands." Guess what? Wives aren't asked to submit to anyone else's husband! Just their own!

While I make this point somewhat tongue-in cheek, many women assume the Bible teaches their general inferiority and subjection to men. Untrue. Paul is talking about marriage as a matter between each husband and wife.

It is a relief to know that as a wife and mother I am not totally responsible for my family. I have a husband to look to for counsel and direction. I can rely on his toughness when I am too soft and his logic when I am too emotional.

[On internet porn]

I went for a while thinking I could handle it on my own. Frankly, who wants to admit this kind of sin? With my years of experience in ministry and my seminary degree, I thought I could figure a way out of this one.

But I kept falling into a cycle of despair — perhaps you’re familiar with it? Falling on my face before God, I’d swear I’d never do it again. But then I’d convince myself that one last time wouldn’t hurt, and quickly I’d be stuck right back in the briar patch of pornography that plagues the World Wide Web.

My wife is also an ally in this battle, and you need yours as well. Sherry set "locks” on my computer, and I do not know the password. This means I am blocked from most pornographic sites because my wife’s settings recognize them as such. I also — and, yes, this was embarrassing — handed my wife a list of Internet addresses for the pornographic sites I tended to visit.

She created specific blocks for them, so I can no longer access them. Once again, this eliminated a lot of my temptation. I now feel comfortable using my own computer, but nervous when I use an unprotected computer. I’m glad my wife established these blocks.

Sweet weeping Jeebus surfing chickswithdicks.com -- this is precisely the kind of absurd claptrap that set me fleeing from Jesus Camp the moment I hit puberty. They manage to infantilize men and women both, which is a neat trick. Maybe this is what they mean by "inclusiveness"?

I'm unclear on how a guy who can't resist wanking off to strange ladies' naughty bits online -- even though he really wants to -- can simultaneously serve as a paragon of logic to counter silly wifely emotionalism, but whatevs. Nice Invocator you got there, President-Elect Obama.

Mullah Warren

All this talk about Rick Warren, the fundamentalist gasbag Obama chose to give the invocation at his inauguration, being a "moderate" evangelical reminds me of the "moderate" clerics in Iran. You know, the people who advocate replacing the "Death to America" chant with "A Terminal Case of Lung Cancer to America." The folks who think homosexuals should be executed by hanging rather than being buried up to their necks in shit and pummeled with rocks. The moderate faction that still wants to require women to scuttle around under drop-cloths but believe a drop-cloth with a muted color other than black isn't an immediate invitation to wanton fornication. Those guys.

I've been venting my spleen all over the internets about this issue, so I figured since I have a blog, it makes sense to address it here too. Rather than paraphrase what I've written a dozen times, I'll just lift my comment in response to this thoughtful post by Marindenver at Rumproast and reprint it here:

Here’s why my knickers are still in such a monumental twist: Obama didn’t have to do this. I understand pragmatism and reaching across the aisle. I know there’s a difference between real policy and symbolic gestures of inclusion.

This is 100% symbolism, and in my opinion, the symbolism sucks. Warren isn’t just some generic bible-humper: He played a key role in passing Prop 8. Within the past month, he was on TV comparing gay marriage with incest and pedophilia, telling Sean Hannity that God uses governments to punish evil-doers, so it’s okay for Hannity to inflame his audience with foreign leader assassination fantasies. Warren also compared pro-choicers to Nazis. He’s an over-stuffed bag of dicks by any progressive measure—Jerry Falwell in a Hawaiian shirt, as someone on Maddow rightly called him last night.

I know you know all of this, and I understand the need for perspective. I still support Obama, of course, and will rejoice to see the end of the Bush regime in less than a month, hallelujah-amen.

But for me, the joy and relief brought about by the impending departure of Bush and the ushering in of what I still believe will be an administration with a distinctly progressive flavor was already tempered with sadness about the step backwards we took with the passage of Prop 8 and anti-gay amendments in FL and AZ.

And now Obama has chosen to open this new era by elevating the stature of one of the chief purveyors of the intolerance that is holding us back. And for what? I don’t believe for a second that any of the knuckle-draggers who nod their heads when Warren spews his bigoted sanctimony will be won over by Warren’s inclusion in the inauguration ceremony. As Berube noted yesterday, they will go to their graves cursing the scary Mooslim-Marxist-furriner-black-dude who wants to be their president too.

There are perhaps center right folks who can be peeled off, and we need them to move forward. I’m down with that. I just don’t see how appealing to the followers of that self-important goateed gasbag accomplishes it. But what it does accomplish is to significantly diminish the enthusiasm of many people like me who worked our asses off to get Obama elected. I hope the trade-off is worth it. Sincerely, I do. But I don’t think it is.

I'll get over it, but this pisses me off. The end.

We can dig it

Who's the first black president-elect
That's the man 66 million voters select?
(Barack!)
You're damn right

Who is the man
That can raise hundreds of millions from his brother man?
(Barack!)
Can ya dig it?

Who's the cat that won't cop out
When there's PUMAs all about
(Barack!)
Right on

They say this cat Barack is a bad mother--
(Shut your mouth!)
But I'm just talkin' about Barack!
(Then we can dig it!)

Okay, here’s reason number #8,679 why I’ll never run for president: Embarrassing photos would surface. I’m guessing Barack never saw this coming.

[Cross-posted at Rumproast]

She's still the Cosmos

As the late, great Molly Ivins noted in her seminal take-down, Camille Paglia is the queen of the categorical statement. Unlike the rest of us, who have opinions on people or cultural phenomena that we might call “personal preferences,” Paglia’s likes and dislikes are definitive.

You think that’s easy? Her role as the sole arbiter of significance makes it impossible for poor Paglia to merely hold an opinion on any subject. She must instead confer mantles of cultural significance to an odd assortment of singers, actors, writers and politicians and defend her stamp of approval forever, no matter how events might overtake her original assessment.

For example, Paglia can’t merely admire a 3rd rate karaoke singer with a keen aptitude for marketing; she must declare Madonna the future of feminism and stick by that assessment, no matter how vapid or kooky the object of her devotion becomes over the years. That must be a heavy burden indeed.

But no burden can be heavier than the woman to whom Paglia passed the future of feminism torch after she personally snatched it from Madonna’s failing claws: Sarah Palin. Before the election, Paglia decreed Palin had “made the biggest step forward in feminism since Madonna.” At least Madonna obliged Paglia by continuing to crank out crappy pop tunes for several hundred years after being identified as feminism’s future. But Palin’s quick post-election fizzle left Paglia scrambling for justifications of her faith. And she settled on, of all things, language.

According to Paglia, those of us who were mystified by Palin’s mangled syntax and incomprehensible sentence structure are the stupid ones, and snobs to boot:

“So she doesn't speak the King's English -- big whoop! There is a powerful clarity of consciousness in her eyes. She uses language with the jumps, breaks and rippling momentum of a be-bop saxophonist.”

See, we Palin critics are like those stuffy opera aficionados who failed to recognize the genius of Charlie Parker. And if that cultural reference is too musty for you, Paglia helpfully supplies a more recent one in her current Salon column -- Palin speaks like bloggers write:

There has been a revolution in English -- registered in the 1950s in the street slang, colloquial locutions and assertive rhythms of both Beat poetry and rock 'n' roll and now spread far and wide on the Web in the standard jazziness of blogspeak…

English has evolved, and the world has moved on. There is no necessary connection between bourgeois syntax and practical achievement. I have never had the slightest problem with understanding Sarah Palin's meaning at any time.

Really? Then perhaps she’d be kind enough to translate this passage for me:

“Sitting here in these chairs that I’m going to be proposing but in working with these governors who again on the front lines are forced to and it’s our privileged obligation to find solutions to the challenges facing our own states every day being held accountable, not being just one of many just casting votes or voting present every once in a while, we don’t get away with that. We have to balance budgets and we’re dealing with multibillion dollar budgets and tens of thousands of employees in our organizations."

I think Palin was trying to say that as executives, governors are accountable in a way that members of congress are not. She also seems to work in a sly dig at Obama with the “present” vote thing. But the lack of clear subjects, objects and verbs (not to mention extraneous references to furniture) makes supposition necessary. Ferreting out Palin’s meaning reminds me of the daunting task the family in the old Lassie drama faced each week: ascertaining the fate of little Timmy from a collie dog’s series of yips, woofs and lunges.

Is Paglia really saying that clear, concise communication isn’t important as long as there’s a “powerful clarity of consciousness” in one’s eyes? What an odd thing for a college professor to say. I guess Lassie would get an “A” in Paglia’s media studies class.

Life would be much simpler for Paglia if she could just admit that Madonna and Palin give her a lady-boner and leave it at that. But she can’t, not for Madonna and Palin, and not for any subject on which her beady little eyes alight.

And I pity her for it. How hard it must be to get through lunch if you can’t just enjoy a slice of pizza but must instead declaim on the cultural significance of Italian-American cuisine’s vibrant, gaudy, triumphant dance on the grave of drab, puritanical meat and potatoes! Such is the price of Cosmos-hood. As we say in the provincial South, bless her heart.

[Cross-posted at Rumproast]

Gators to contend for title

You are toast, Oklahoma. The mighty Gators will rock your world on January 8.

Department of Dumb Mofos

Does Dennis Miller, the unfunny wingnut comedian, live in Florida? It wouldn’t surprise me -- wingnut celebrities are as common around here as giant, indestructible flying cockroaches. Limbaugh, Coulter and Drudge infest the state, for example. But it would surprise me if Miller resides in the somewhat scruffy town of Lakeland, since Florida-dwelling wingers seem to prefer gated compounds in Palm Beach.

At any rate, there is a wingnut named Dennis Miller in Lakeland, who opined thusly in a local rag this Sunday, revealing vast expanses of stupidity:

Shoot Back at Terrorists

Let’s assume that the terrorist attack had taken place in New York City instead of India. And let’s assume for a moment that Plaxico Burris [sic] was in the restaurant in the hotel, and that he took out his pistol and returned fire and shot a couple of terrorists.

And what if some others in the restaurant would have grabbed their automatic weapons and returned fire?

I wonder how many lives it might have saved. I wonder how long before the good mayor of New York would have seen fit to prosecute Burris [sic] for having a concealed weapon in his city which is illegal.

I wonder if in planning their attacks, al-Qaida takes into consideration those locations where they know the government has taken away the private citizens right to defend themselves.

DENNIS MILLER
LAKELAND

Okay, I’ll play “let’s assume.” Given Burress’ demonstrated prowess with firearms, it seems much more likely that he would have blown his own testicles off rather than plugging a terrorist or two had the Mumbai bad guys invaded his New York nightclub (not restaurant) rather than sites in India.

Also, having visited New York nightclubs a time or two back in the day, I don’t share Miller’s confidence in random drunks’ ability to assume the role of anti-terrorist commando at a moment’s notice. In fact, I can envision a scenario in which the death toll would be even higher thanks to would-be Rambos mowing down innocent bystanders with automatic weapons. It’s not their willingness to help I question; it’s their ability to, um, execute.

I bet Mr. Miller is an avid viewer of Red Dawn and a member of the Chuck Norris fan club. He probably has a concealed carry permit, which any fool without a recent felony conviction or involuntary commitment can easily obtain in Florida. I bet he daydreams about taking heroic action should he ever be on the scene of a robbery or terrorist attack.

But you know what he’d probably do in such a situation? The same thing most of us would do -- run away like a scared little bunny. I have some experience with this. I was in an office building once years ago when a madman opened fire. To my eternal shame, I did not counter-attack using my lunch tray as a martial arts star but instead kicked off my impractical dressy shoes and ran like a scalded dog. The only person running away faster than me was the armed security guard, who probably thought he was more Bruce Willis in Die Hard than Thumper in Bambi too. Oh well. Dreams die hard. Even daydreams.

[Cross-posted at Rumproast]

Evangeliban

Of course Hannity is a warmongering thug who hasn’t the faintest idea how foreign policy power functions in the country he is so transparently eager to bomb. Nothing new there. But can we stop pretending Rick Warren is a moderate now? He is also either shockingly ignorant about what the bible actually says or willing to twist its message to appeal to Hannity’s troglodyte core audience. My money’s on the latter. No respectable politician should ever take this creep seriously again.

[H/T: Sullivan. Cross-posted at Rumproast]

Prop 8: The Musical

I approve this message. And Jack Black makes a great Jeebus!

Big three auto company CEOs to receive $1 per year more than they're worth

Top car company execs pledge to receive $1 a year in compensation if US taxpayers bail their sorry asses out:

As part of its plan, Ford announced that the salary of Ford CEO Alan Mulally would be cut to $1 a year if Ford actually borrowed money from the government.

General Motors said that CEO Rick Wagoner also will accept a $1 salary. Chrysler LLC CEO Robert Nardelli agreed during Congressional testimony last month he would also agree to a $1 salary in return for federal help.

Mulally had a base salary of $2 million and total compensation of $21.7 million last year, according to the company's filings. Wagoner received base pay of $1.6 million and total compensation of $14.4 million. Closely-held Chrysler does not disclose executive pay.

As painful and galling as it is, I get the logic of bailing out the auto industry. But as one of their prospective lenders, I say a condition should be that these rat-bastard CEOs get the heave-ho.

They sucked last year when they received annual compensation ranging from $14M to $21M. Some of them having been stinking up Detroit for more than 10 years, pumping out gas guzzlers and generally shitty cars in the face of looming fuel shortages and competitive forces we’ve known about for decades. They did nothing to address vital issues then, and there’s no reason to believe they’ll be more prescient and competent with a drastic salary reduction.

I could offer to teach calculus for $10 bucks an hour, and any university that hired me would save a shitload in personnel costs. But since I struggle to calculate a 20% tip in my head, it would be a poor bargain. Same thing here. Ford, GM and Chrysler need to kick these bastards to the curb. Then come talk to me about sticking their feedstaw in my wallet.

[Cross-posted at Rumproast]

Playing tag: Six random things about me

I was tagged (by Kevin K at Rumproast) to play the "Six Random Things About Me" game. I'm kinda late in responding, but I had a turkey to brine, various experimental side dishes to concoct and warring factions of relatives to keep separated. At any rate, here goes:

1) I was the cause of a shot-gun marriage between a hippie and a redneck. (It lasted for several years – a miracle!)

2) During a drunken midnight stroll through Salzburg, Austria, I once trapped a poor little hedgehog in my purse, took it upstairs, woke up my traveling companions and made them look at it and then freed the traumatized critter in the alley where I found it.

3) I was a punk rocker – one of the few in my tiny high school in my tiny hometown. I once fashioned a tunic out of a black Hefty bag and wore it to school to display my “the world is garbage, including me” punk weltschmerz. People assumed my family had lost its possessions in a fire and offered to donate clothes.

4) I am terrified of flying and only do so when compelled by business or family obligations. When I do have to fly, I must place the palm of my right hand on the fuselage while boarding the plane, even if it means shifting babies and bags around to perform the ritual. If the people behind me get antsy about the wait, tough shit; I’m saving their lives too.

5) I fucking HATE pickles. If I bite into a pickle in a supposedly pickle-free sandwich, I react exactly as I would if I bit into a cat turd: I spit it out and run to the bathroom and wash my mouth out repeatedly, then scrub my tongue with a toothbrush until it hurts.

6) I’m a really excellent cook and entirely self-taught. My mom and grandmothers can’t cook worth a damn, and my dad apparently views all residences as restaurants in which he is the sole, prized customer. He actually rattles ice cubes in a glass to indicate he wants more tea. I pretend not to hear it.

I now tag the following unfortunate souls: Icebergwedge, J at J-Two-O, Gimme at What Did They Do Now, Aimai at If I Ran the Zoo, Evan at Break the Terror, Noah at The November Blog. Sorry, guys.

And I am posting the rules as required:

THE SIX RANDOM THINGS RULES:

Link to the person who tagged you.
Post the rules on your blog.
Write six random things about yourself.
Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.