What do you think he saw? The other side of the mountain, the other side of the mountain...

I am a liberal. A progressive, if you will. I believe women should have choice. I don't believe the free market can be trusted to do much beyond make rich people richer. I believe felons should have the right to vote. I believe in amnesty for illegal immigrants. I believe in higher taxes for the rich, and comprehensive, intimidating regulation for coporations. I think the net should be neutral, and the death penalty should only be used when the system no longer discriminates against poor people. I believe day care should be government subsidized, and college should be cheap. I think the massive government subsidies that currently flow to oil companies should be diverted to innovative alternative energy companies, and that public school teachers should be paid more than garbagemen unless they're not actually good at their job, in which case they should be fired.

I believe that conservatives are both selfish and more optimistic about human behavior and instinct. "Why should the government handle social security? If the market can't handle it, I'm sure the next generation will be generous with their money." Which, if you have money, makes sense. The problem is all those pesky people who don't have money.

But whatever. That's not what this is about. This is about an experiment I'm doing. Recently I read "The Shock Doctrine" by Naomi Klein - a serious book about disaster capitalism and its proponents on both the left and the right, but mostly on the right - and "The Great Derangement" by Matt Taibbi - a less serious book about how the modern American is delusional, and that's why the modern American is both religious and may vote Republican.

I enjoyed both books immensely, for different reasons. One of those, however, was that they merely reinforced my own prejudices against conservatives and Republicans. I like to think of myself as open-minded, so this bothered me.

Then a fantastic solution presented itself: why not balance the books with two right-wing books? It's perfect! I'll find one serious conservative book, and one crazy conservative book, and I'll read those, and see if I can actually appreciate any part of either of them. I looked around, and found two books: "Liberal Fascism" by Jonah Goldberg, and "If Democrats had Brains They'd be Republicans" by Ann Coulter.

So today I began "Liberal Fascism." I haven't gotten very far, but I've already noticed a couple of things.

1) I'm embarassed to be seen reading this book on the bus. My ride takes me through two college campuses, wherein reside hundreds, nay, thousands of nubile young ladies, many of whom fancy themselves liberal. The sheer volume of Obama pins and stickers supports this. Not that I'm trying to date any of them, but I'm still screwed up enough to want complete strangers, albeit hot ones, to like me. Beyond that, I like being a liberal. I like the lifestyle. I like all the smart people I get to hang out with. I like the comedians. So projecting an image of myself that doesn't coincide with my internal conception of who I am, even if it's simply by reading a conservative book, makes me a titch uncomfortable.

Also it has a picture of a smiley-face with a Hitler mustache, which I think is just tacky.

2) In neither of the liberal books did the author feel the need to proclaim his or her patriotism. First because Naomi Klein is Canadian, so she doesn't need to love America - Dick Cheney's opinion notwithstanding. Second, well, I don't know why, but I would guess because the default is that if you live in America, on some level you love the country and its ideals. If you didn't, you would leave and move, say, to Canada.

Jonah Goldberg, like many conservatives it seems, needs to proclaim his love of America loudly, and often. He doesn't even make it through the introduction before referencing his love of America and all its citizens, even the crazy leftist Commie homos. Well, maybe not the Commies. Or the Muslims. But you get the point. His patriotic declamation comes in the midst of a paragraph where he might be seen to be criticizing part of American culture. This gives further weight to something conservatives do a lot in public - say that people who aren't conservative or Republican hate America, because they're criticizing it. Maybe this book will do something to explain the "obvious" connection between criticism and hatred.

3) Jonah Goldberg, as it turns out, is not actually Jewish, as I had guessed from the name. Which maybe goes to his claim that the Holocaust could never happen here, because this is America. Which is what they said in Germany. And Spain. And England. And France. And Italy.
(No one says this in Russia or Poland because, let's face it, those are prime anti-semitic plots of real estate.)
But he can be excused for this because he loves America so much, and America can do no wrong.

See? There goes my prejudicial sarcasm again. The point of this exercise is to balance that out a bit. After all, I'm against legislating health, like banning trans fats and speed limits and narcotics. I deplore the victimization that is a constant tool of the left, which only makes us look like a bunch of whiners. And I'm ashamed at my own conceit that liberals are, well, we're just smarter, is all.

So we'll see how this goes. Although Ann Coulter, man, I just hope I have the stones to carry that book in public. If only to see the wide-eyed contempt as I ride past Pitt and CMU.

I am screwed.

Bay State’s going slap-happy

Well, what the hell am I supposed to do now? Fetus is set to burst out of Wife's unsuspecting, innocent uterus like a pumpkin through a buttonhole, and if the Beacon Hill Commies have their way, Fetus will have us all under its control within minutes.

And now I have to return all the tools recommended by the Boston Educational Association for Training and Driving Offspring With Necessary Stimuli. There's no way I'll get a full refund on my taser, and I have no idea which cop I stole that nightstick from. I guess Wife will have to return that EST machine to the hospital.

What? my brass knuckles too? Great. Now we're defenseless. I may as well toss out my baseball bat, while we're at it. What do you mean, that's not what it's for?

Liberal bastards.

I'll show you genius

A couple of weeks ago the MacArthur Foundation (www.macfound.org) announced its newest crop of 24 genius grants ($100k/year for 5 years). Oh, I’m sorry, they don’t like the term “genius.” Well, I don’t like the term “borderline sociopathic personality,” but sometimes it’s not up to us, is it?

Anyhoo, once again I was not an honoree. Banners, kazoos, and thousands of yards of colored tissue paper were wasted. I’m not ashamed to admit I took it hard. But after a few weeks of refusing to shower, or even change out of my tuxedo, I’m back with a vengeance.

I did some research, and according to David Plotz, John and Cathy don’t accept applications. That’s hundreds of dollars in postage I wasted! So on the off chance that one of you is a MacArthur talent scout, here is why I should be shortlisted for the 2008 MacArthur Fellowship:

As a “professor without portfolio” for several third tier universities in San Francisco and New York, I don’t have much free time for my true passion – leading blind children on photographic safaris to Darfur. There is no purer, more heartbreaking way to view genocide than through the eyes of a child, even if those eyes don’t actually work. Sure, parents and child-rights organizations poopoo my methods, and protest regularly outside my office. But they are bound by the leathery chaps of tradition, and cannot escape the mildewy burlap sack of conventional wisdom.

This closemindedness will bring civilization to a cataclysmic end if I am not able to continue these adventures, which are merely part of my research into the Supersensory Compensation Theorem. The blind children for which I am responsible may eventually develop super hearing, or even an heroic ability to distinguish between sweet and savory foods. We may never know, unless I can afford to continue with the hormone therapies and sleep deprivation procedures. Those hormones are not cheap, by the way, or easy to obtain. One can’t just walk into the local pharmaceutical concern, order 150 gallons of equine lycopene, and not expect some sort of hubbub. The total cost of these therapies, combined with our annual photographic journeys to Darfur for twenty sightless boys and girls, will run to just under $100,000 over the next five years.

And this is above and beyond my work to maintain our security in the face of the sinister bovine threat.

So I put it to you, anonymous talent scout. Do you think the world should be denied my efforts? If you want to put 20 blind kids out on the street, children who haven’t slept in weeks and are all hopped up on horse proteins, then go ahead – award the $500k to someone else. But if you’re tantalized by the idea of millions of boys and girls who can smell strawberry jam from 3 miles away, then you understand how much I – we – need that money.

Hillary is the New Satan

The National Review has recently changed the banner on its website to “Help Us Stop Hillary!” There is also an unflattering picture of her under a Ghostbusters-style red circle with a slash through it.

Some might say that it’s a bit premature to be concerned about a particular candidate, perhaps because:

- It’s 13 months until the election; or

- There are 3 months until the first primary; or

- According to recent polls, only 1/6 of primary voters in early states like New Hampshire and Iowa have decided for whom they’ll vote; or

- There are still 77 different candidates.

These people, though, are misguided, and un-American.

No one in my neck of the woods realizes the danger posed by the blond Senator from Chicago – I mean Connecticut – I mean New York. And I try to convince them, to show them how serious it is that she’s running. I throw out these salient facts:

1) She is a woman. And as we have seen in this country, no woman can adequately perform the necessary functions of the president, like having openly secret affairs with Marilyn Monroe, or Monica Lewinsky (ouch, low blow. But you know what? I didn’t think she was that ugly). Unless Hillary is a lesbian. In which case she is more qualified than I thought.

2) She is not a man. Men have ruled the earth for thousands of years. We built the Pyramids with brute strength, and competent math skills. We impregnated vast populations of ladies, using manly guile and sperm. Men have waged wars, awful bloody wars, that have become fodder for awesome movies. We slew entire species: the wooly mammoth, the saber-toothed tiger, the dodo. If one – most likely, based on the numbers, a man – were to venture up into space, one could see our creations from thousands of miles away.

3) Hillary Clinton is female. Chicks are crazy, man. This one time, I was dating this girl, and I forgot our three-week anniversary, and she burned my car, and sold my dog. True story.

4) She is Bill Clinton’s wife. Now, we all know there is a lot of stuff going on around the world about which we have absolutely no clue, let alone any sort of insight. Does Iran really want to be a contributing member of global society? Who knows? Is there an effective worldwide plan to stop global warming, and to discover cheap renewable energy? I have no idea. But I want my president to know these things. And if Hillary Clinton had no idea Bill was getting blown in the Oval Office by some intern, then how is she going to know whether Pakistan is selling nuclear weapons to Trinidad (but not Tobago – I wouldn’t trust those morons with a slingshot).

5) Did you know that bears can smell a woman’s menses? BEARS! She’s going to put the whole office in danger! (Just be thankful I limited myself to one Anchorman quote)

6) Hillary Clinton has been taken to task repeatedly for her fashion sense, or lack thereof (meeoww!). Recently, though, she’s been showing some sexy post-menopausal cleavage. If that’s the sort of skanky attire we can expect from her as president, she won’t get anything done. Imagine this nightmarish scenario, say, in a Cabinet meeting: Sorry, Madam President, I didn’t hear your revolutionary healthcare plan, I was too busy staring at your jugs. Oh, I dropped my pencil, could you reach down and pick it up? Thaaaaaaaaaaat’s it. Nice.

7) She is a woman. Women already have buildings in which they rule with an iron fist – they’re called houses. Give them more power, and it will be anarchy: mothers whipping out boobs to breastfeed in the middle of churches; The View will become the anchor show during primetime, right after Grey’s Anatomy, and right before Desperate Housewives; sensible clothing will replace ho-wear in clubs and high schools around the country; softball will replace baseball as the national pastime (not that I’ll miss baseball, but it’s the principle, dammit); and you’ll be able to walk in to any Bed Bath & Beyond and get your abortion, gay marriage, and free lung transplant while waiting for your highlights to set.

8) Finally, Hillary Clinton is not a man. She doesn’t understand tradition. There are certain things that are sacrosanct in this country. We refuse reasonable health care, because unlike Europeans, we never had a caste system, so we have to work hard to create one. Otherwise we get left out. And America doesn’t get left out. Also, every few years we have to get into a war. It’s not pretty, but it keeps these industries afloat: military-industrial, domestic-industrial, industrial-industrial, pharmaceutical, medical, transportation, print media, 24-hour television news programs, military fiction including books, TV shows, and movies, comedy, tragedy, satire, allegory, psychiatric, social work, religious, clothing, and Cher.

9) Oh, and she’s smart and unbelievably well-informed. That’s not the sort of type we want for the Leader of the Free World.

Please help us, then, both here and at The National Review. It’s not that we’re sexist, or chauvinist. We just don’t want some broad to show us up.

It's That Time Again...

Bryce Withershire: We’ll get back to the intrepid woodcutters of southern Honduras in just a minute, but now we need to remind those of you just turning in that we’re seventeen minutes, thirty…three seconds away from the final hour of our fall pledge drive, and we need your help. Without you, our listeners, we’d be nothing: Janey Grimshackle would be out on the street, offering oral pleasure instead of the aural satisfaction she now provides.

Janey Grimshackle: Oh Bryce, you’re awful! But in all seriousness, without WSNB, your morning commute would be a soulkilling exercise in mankind’s basest and worst instincts. Sure, there are other radio stations on the dial, but do you want to be bombarded with more popular music, sports and local news? Where else can you hear about the U.S. Poet Laureate’s fascination with bathroom grout? Nowhere else. Don’t kid yourself.

BW: Operators are here, waiting to take your call. And as you know, this year there are generous donors willing to go dollar for dollar on all the money contributed by our listeners. On other stations, these corporate marketers would rely on expensive, elaborate commercials for which they’d pay thousands of dollars. But here on WSNB, all they have to do is contribute tax-deductible revenue that they can claim as charitable donations, and they get the sultry, dulcet tones of Janey Grimshackle reading ad copy on their latest male pattern baldness ointments.

JG: Well as you know, Bryce, Hir-sutrin has been shown in several studies to increase both coverage and density. But please remember, there are only fourteen minutes and thirteen – fourteen seconds left until our autumn fundraising is finished, and we still need to raise $186,752 before the end of the hour, when Lloyd Shawbridge hosts an all-new “Skyline” with Dr. Wilhelm Ossenbachfeis, who will tell us all what concentrated orange juice futures have to do with your Thanksgiving travel plans.

BW: I hope they won’t interfere with my flight to Bora Bora! But please, listeners, call in with your donations. We don’t want to have to skin this precious labradoodle puppy. Just a dollar a day, less than the cost of your soy latte, will allow us to keep bringing you poignant, heartrending stories like Amaretto Consuela Garcia-Mojito’s gripping tale of hardship and woe during her three hour ordeal in a Fort Lauderdale prison, which you can hear all about on Maxwell Bootle’s “Things Remembered.”

JG: One more thing, Bryce. As you go through your morning yoga routine, remember that Snuffy, our little ball of fur and energy is hanging in the balance. Don’t make him suffer just because you can’t make a phone call! We also still have twenty-four WSNB canvas sacks, perfect for food shopping, or drowning cats, or any of a number of common household uses. Oh, look at Snuffy! Isn’t he cute? Look at him wiggle on the end of that hook! Bryce, who gets to skin it if we don’t meet our fundraising goals?

BW: We’ve offered it to Shane Ferstwitter’s Home for Troubled Teens, and they’re now drawing straws to see who’s the lucky sociopath. But Snuffy won’t have to suffer at all if you act now. We’re down to the wire, folks, and we still need $185,514 in the next seven minutes to match our budgetary needs, and to make sure Snuffy doesn’t fall into the hands of a fifteen-year-old with a Swiss Army knife and no conscience. Who doesn’t want to help ensure that enjoyable programs like Long Duk Matthewson’s Sunday morning “Jazz Hands” can keep entertaining the dozens of avid fans it attracts? I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to get Long Duk mad.

JG: No one likes chemical burns, Bryce.

BW: Well, in the meantime, we have two minutes and nine seconds left, and we’re still well-short of our goals, so does Dennis want to start sharpening his – oh, he’s ready then.

JG: Oh, hate to stop you short there, Bryce, but it looks like we’ve got an anonymous guardian angel. Somebody must have a labradoodle at home! What a generous gift, with just seconds to spare! It’s ok Dennis, we’ll have you back, and maybe then you can gut something. Thanks to Bryce Withershire for joining me in the studio this morning. We’ll be back tomorrow with a new goal, and a new puppy. So Lloyd Shawbridge, what can you tell us about orange juice concentrate that we don’t already know?