Okay, Just Call Me Pollyanna, Then

Doesn't it seem to you that the office, the institution, of the American presidency is shrinking like a wool sweater in a red-hot dryer? That's how it feels to me, contemplating the political "news" concerning the troop of clowns pursuing the GOP nomination to oppose the tiny little corporate puppet now inhabiting 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. I mean -- the latest up-and-coming Republican dwarf is Newtie? It's hard to describe the little toad as "evil," because to be evil should surely require some substance. Mr. Gingrich fails to rise to the threshold level of evil. If he grew up, maybe he'd be evil. Then there's the Obummer: Bush Part Three, without the pseudoTexan pseudotwang ... and certainly without anything that could possibly be mistaken for integrity, or even a coherent political philosophy.

And, on the whole, that's good news. As the United States weakens, the national figurehead's identity becomes less important; and, as the United States weakens, its ability to destroy other people's lives, families, and homes on a worldwide basis also diminishes, and that's a diminution that's plainly required, in the interest of elementary decency.


So count me among the smiling, as 2012 arrives in a few weeks. It's an election year, and the cracks, rust, dangling wires, and loose fittings on the machinery of tyranny show up best at such times. I may not (will not) be voting, but that doesn't prevent me from being a campaign worker. I believe I'll go and volunteer for Dwayne Elizondo Mountain Dew Herbert Camacho, the logical president for Amur'ka 2012!