It All Works Out

Mockery is good, and it's what we're all about here at Casa Satanica, and it's what we did while hundreds of thousands, if not more* , stumbled and pooped and littered and woo-hooed their way about My Local Locality yesterday, forcing jaded and cynical Localitarians to plumb the depths of their Obamapostasy**. Here at La Casa, we sat watching with Dr. Death, as we are wont to watch things generally, and observed/mocked, with a puzzled Databoy watching quietly with occasional interruption, and an indifferent Bam-Bam doing the things that Bam-Bam does when he's not allowed to go to school.***

Of course, such a day produces a lot of thoughts that would appear random if they weren't being triggered by structured events and the reactive media fucktardery appurtenant thereto. Our choice of fucktards for much of the day was Olbermann and Tweety on MSNBC, because Olbermann bats for our team, even though he's a douche, and Tweety is just plain fucking insane, which makes for better television than the pompous twats on CNN or the vanilla soup of twatly pomps and spright airheadedness on the broadcast nets. Later, when we just wanted to watch the damn parade (we love a parade) without listening to Tweety chirp and Olbermann preen, we flopped over to CNN, which produced a lot less fun, given that they were doing a full Wolf and mixing in lots of strikingly inappropriate stuff like having Quincy Jones basically tell Soledad O'Brien**** on national TV that he wants to stuff her like a fucking terducken, as he propagandized for the concept of a Secretary of Arts (not a bad idea, but Q got a little distracted by the scorching fuck-me that Ms. O'Brien can't help projecting).*****

Jesus, where was I? Oh yeah, the TV coverage. Of course, I noticed some stuff. Like, TV correspondents who live here or hang out here a lot have absolutely no clue about local geography, because they have limo drivers and taxi drivers and satellite truck drivers to move them about the city. One does not turn north on Constitution Avenue, as either Tweety or Olbermann suggested as Obama's limo approached the Capitol. One does turn northeast on Louisiana Avenue, which is what the limo did. Goddamn lying liberal media.

Tweety was obsessed with a royalty theme yesterday; he kept riffing on it throughout the coverage. At one level, I'll give Tweety a little slack; he had a lot of dead air to fill, and he's got a woody for celebrity that approaches bad-Viagra-trip levels. At another level, I will not forgive Tweety for comparing the Bushes to the Romanovs. The great thing about America, Tweety, is the regular and timely peaceful transition of executive power. If the Bushes were the Romanovs, then we'd have perforated their patrician asses and dumped them in a fucking mineshaft 16 years ago. Asshat. I detest the Bushes as much as the next guy (I do give Poppy props for snuggling up to Bubba on as many issues as they can stand, in the name of national cohesion, but can't forgive W, Jeb, and the two closeted ones, and letting Babs run the Star Chamber for lo these 40 years has been pretty reprehensible, too).

My point? Oh yeah. Perforation. Mineshaft. Peaceful transition. STFU, Tweety.

Quick notes on style and fashion: I'm going the other way. I thought Michelle's inauguration dress was fuck-ugly, but that's a color problem, by me; I'm not a fan of yellow. On the other hand, I thought her ballgown was lovely. But all that is just noise to give faux context to the meat of this graf: I have never been sorry that I missed an inaugural ball, until now.

The speech was a little tame for my taste; I didn't think it was one of Obama's best. It was adequate, workmanlike, predictable, fine, whatever. It wasn't Lincoln's second inaugural address, or Clinton's first. The line that got the most reaction hereabouts was his statement of commitment to restoring the role of science in decisionmaking. That forgives a lot of faults, and faults there are, aplenty.

Opostasy? Sure, whatever. He ain't the Messiah, and I've said so forever. This guy has not-at-all famously opined about O's .06 percent less suckage than the best alternative. Prolly true. But he does suck, and that's the basis of Opostasy. As I was ranting yesterday, you can think your government is you, and there are degrees to which that's true and beautiful, for given values of truth and beauty. Whatever keeps you from soaking the neighbors in gasoline and lighting them on fire.

The practical truth is that your government is me. I'm deadly serious, not in the sense that I control you or rule you or anything of the sort, but the dumbass work of putting on a government? That's me, and millions like (and unlike) me. You may think that's a waste of your money. And for given individuals or programs, you may be right. Congress and Presidents say otherwise, and at the macro level, some of my friends and I are what they fund. We go on, regardless of hope, change, energy, dynamism, red, blue, snow, Intertubes mockery, and inaugurations. I'm not looking for props or whining/bragging/self-crucifying; I'm just pointing out that we are governed by an apparatus with an elected manager. We've elected a better manager, and that's what we were partying about yesterday. In the heat and energy of the moment, it's probably Opostasy to suggest that the man has some good points, some bad points. It all works out.*******

*Metro says just shy of a million, and they always undercount because, in crushes, people get through the gates without paying. But they don't undercount by a lot, and it's hard to believe that many people operated in the city yesterday without using Metro.

**Intellectual property of this guy.

***Jumping on trampoline, flapping, intermittent shrieking, throwing unwanted objects from his playroom, and watching Dora and Muppets and that stupid fucking Bear, with occasional demands to be released to the bathroom, which is at least an improvement on certain recent underwear-unfriendly behaviors. It's what makes the boy happy, and really, wouldn't we all prefer to be that uncomplicated?

****Do me, Soledad. Just do me. Yes, I will utterly wreck you, but you'll dig it. Oh yes you will.

*****Okay, I just did a little reading on Soledad in the course of my duly diligent research for this here piece, and discovered that her full name translates as "The BVM of Solitude O'Brien" and that she's really pretty much a bitch, having recently moved to have some neighbors thrown out of their co-op because their dog farts and drools (I'd give you the link, but it's in a certain huffy online post to which I will not link, and there's no reason to doubt the veracity of that rag's reporting on this issue). That moves the whole thing from fantasizing about sex to fantasizing about crime, and I'm just totally not about that. Mostly. Sort of. In any event, scratch the whole wrecking Soledad thing******, before we end up with a restraining order. Those are for other folk.

*******Happy now, honey?

*******I am not, however, a little freaked out.