What Glorious Crap

I've really lacked interest in politics ever since, oh, I don't know, about 9 p.m. on November 2, 2004. So my posts here have instead concerned important matters like books about death, Amazon.com's depressing opinion of me, and even, at the urging of my numerous fans, insights into my more personal, intimate side. And also how cool it would be if we all got together and played Dungeons and Dragons in live action.

I must, however, now make one small political point: If the Democrats cannot emerge within the next few months as a healed and vastly strengthened party, then they are hopelessly inept dolts and I will pledge my undying political support for Ross Perot. Let's do a quick, totally unresearched and half-assed review of what's been going on:

- Republicans, giddy-drunk with power, have gone overboard with a Social Security plan that makes the majority of Americans crap their pants.
- They're now pushing, relentlessly, to abolish the filibuster as to debate on judicial nominees, a "nuclear option" that even a majority of unsophisticated American cretins recognize is a bad idea.
- Tom Delay has, inexplicably, pulled back his cape and disclosed that he does indeed have knobby little horns, a forked tail, and breath bearing the rotten stench of the tortured souls he has eaten as sustenance in his rise to power. And he seems proud of this.
- The Shrub's approval ratings are sinking faster than rapidly sinking approval ratings. And they're doing so on nearly every issue.
- A gay male hooker was a White House press correspondent.
- Further entrenching the GOP as the party of homosexuals, the newswires are aflame with pictures of the Shrub having passionate gay sex with the Saudi Crown Prince. (Why else would two grown men be holding hands?)

Some of those points are more important than others. But here's a serious one: The Republican party is wallowing in its own excess, so slap-happy it is to finally have what it has always wanted in its bony little fingers -- total control of every branch of the U.S. government. They're behaving like dogs that eat and eat and eat until their stomachs are distended and they puke up partially digested Alpo. Just like a dog must be slapped away, or prodded with an branding iron, when he cannot stop himself, so too must the Republicans be dealt justice.

Do I trust the Democrats to capitalize on all this glorious crap? No. That's why I've prepared my Plan B: "Ross Perot: Don't Call It a Comeback. He's Been Here For Ears [sic]." The problem is that, in these soporific post-election months, no prominent Democrat wants to step forward and be the firebrand. Any Democrat who is interested in the presidency is hanging back, fearful that American cretins will have their fill of him or her too long before the presidential election cycle begins. Besides, there aren't any charismatic Democrats left.

Ross, take me away.