America sits on the precipice of a great and grim milestone as we confront the fact that it will soon be cheaper to buy a gallon of malt liquor than a gallon of gas. And where does that leave our families? Obviously, we’re not finding any comfort in the teenage karaoke dronings of American Idol because the ratings for that show are ever plummeting. Same, too, for the pomp and pageantry of America’s Prom, the Academy Awards, which this past Sunday also hit a low ratings mark. Even in Los Angeles, where self-congratulation is a way of life, interest in this year’s awards ceremony was low. What on earth is going on here? Do we need to exhume Ronald Reagan’s corpse so that he can invent crack cocaine AGAIN and give us all a reason to go on in our misery?
No, we don’t actually. It turns out that all of these signs of the times are wonderful omens. The kids aren’t watching American Idol because they’re in their bedrooms making “crush on Obama” parody videos and posting them on youtube. The New York Times Carpetbagger entertainment reporter noted that in a big deal LA restaurant the day before the Oscars, there was more buzz about the democratic debates than the Academy Awards. And if malt liquor is cheaper than gas, then we’ll all be drinking more and driving less, which even an oil man at an AA meeting would agree is better for the planet.
Wacky times, indeed. We might as well call the past week or so Latino-Palooza, as Fidel Castro stepped down, Hillary and Obama went to Texas and talked about sensible immigration reform for an hour and at one point, cable news pundits were speculating that the race for the democratic nomination might very well be decided by Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico! Not that I grant much merit to the cable news folks, but they have been doing this election thing for a while. I heard a Texas pollster speculate that the vote in his state is so fractured among Latinos and women voters that the primary may well hinge on the votes of white males. Finally! An election in America decided by that oft-ignored, marginalized segment of the population: white males. I was getting sick and tired of being sick and tired.
It’s almost not worth mentioning the most recent debate in Ohio, except as another stubborn, bent and rusted nail in the coffin of Mrs. Clinton’s campaign. I’m told the dumbest thing you can do is count a Clinton out, as they are known for miraculous comebacks (or satanic pacts, whatever), but her showing in Columbus was just hard to watch and made it nearly impossible to believe that she can do anything at this point more spectacular than slowly dissolve and disappear into a pile of clothes on the ground while screaming, “I’m melting! I’m melting!”. It almost feels like any day now, Chelsea is going to come out and give her endorsement of Obama.
All of her recent antics, even leaving the debate aside, have been off putting and unnerving and I’m honestly afraid that she’s going to snap and start punching holes in the wall. It’s gonna be like when Elmer Fudd would take his hat off and stomps on it out of sheer exasperation. And Obama will just be standing there, as cool as the other side of the pillow, chomping on a carrot and asking her what’s up.
Obama walked away from the debate in Ohio with a newly-buffed impenetrable sheen of inevitability. In a very public, very embarrassing and almost disgustingly trashy ploy to chip away at this sheen, a man introduced John McCain at a rally by repeatedly reminding people that the democratic frontrunner’s full name is Barack Hussein Obama. Well, of course it didn’t work. Nothing can touch that guy right now. His name could be Vomit Hitler Mellencamp and America would still love him. That’s comforting.
He’s the right man for right now because he is a transcendant character. A global cantidate. And today we have another reminder of planet Earth’s mind-boggling cultural globalism, which comes, of course, from the Philippines. Those tightly choreographed pop culture obsessed Filipino prison inmates are at it again. Last time, they made Michael Jackson’s Thriller relevant again after 25 years and now they have made a move to immortalize Soulja Boys’ dance hit of this past year. There’s nothing like pacific islander convicts dancing in unison to an American rap song about graphic sex acts to draw this whole this into focus: it’s not just about America. The world needs Barack Obama.
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