Tuesday, May 04, 2004

Today's Pig is Tomorrow's Bacon

The Shrub was in Chicago today at the Hilton and Towers which meant that Balbo was literally crawling with police and secret service. This made going about one's daily routine not so as everyone- students, tourists, professionals, the homeless- all made with the gapers block.

My Tuesdays at work are generally four to five hours of meetings followed by two hours of paperwork. Since the Police had all the parking spaces on Balbo occupied and were towing anything that didn't look like an unmarked car my meetings were held on my cell phone instead. Days like these are why I have a rollover plan. I finished my paperwork a bit early so I could crane for a glimpse of the man who, if the elections were held today, I feel would actually win the popular vote this time.

And that's the scary thing about George W. Bush. He's spent the past four years completely disproving Ralph Nader's assertion that there was no discernible difference between Bush and Al Gore. Nevertheless, even in the face of all the shit that's gone down in Iraq, knowing this administration's position versus actual record on the economy, environment, energy plan, national security, and countless other items I could go on about, he'd still win the election. But that's why Presidential elections are distance runs and not sprints, Al Gore's eleventh hour 2000 comeback notwithstanding.

I have to admit that the way the Bush camp has taken John Kerry's Vietnam war record and distorted it to make all the silver stars and purple hearts a negative campaign issue is breathtaking. No one's talking about Bush's skipping military duty anymore. It's as though it's better to be a chickenhawk than a decorated veteran. I'm starting to wonder if those duffel bags full of uniforms I threw over the gangway of the USS Anzio the day I was discharged will come back to haunt me should I ever decide to run for office. Consider this my confessional. Whle I'm here I should also note that I inhaled. Deeply. I also had sexual relations with that woman. And that woman.

That's why, when I get bummed out about the very real possibility of four more years of this nation being led by a dimwit, I tune out for just a moment and listen to truly mindless drivel like the fucking Darkness. They're just living in the now, which is how all flavors-of-the-month should. The Darkness is what rock would be like if Spinal Tap was in on the joke.

The Darkness is the musical equivalent of Geroge W. Bush: there's no middle ground. You either love it or hate it. The difference is that the Shrub is making decisions that will have ramifications on our grandchildren. It's what happens when someone with more luck than skill starts believing he's more talented than he is. Which explains the whole life of George W. Bush.

The Darkness is a welcome relief for popular music, like pissing in the alley after a night of pounding back long island iced teas. They sound loud and big and OHMYGOD they fucking rock!! Their lyrics are simpleton and sexist. And the lead singer spends most of the recording singing with his testicles in his throat. But it never takes itself seriously. They're just looking for the next piece of ass, the next gig, the next fix.

Having lived through the depression and self-important irony that was grunge it's great to see a band get it and not take themselves so seriously. Walking to the Orange Line bopping up-and-down to "Get Your Hands Off My Woman" I almost forget that I'll be 35 in a month and could afford to lose twenty pounds. Like the genital warts the lead singer cries about in his falsetto, the Darkness must be growing on me.

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