Thought for the Day

From the Gospel According to James Wolcott:

I harbor no grand illusions about Obama, he isn't my messiah (I don't have a messiah, the writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson supplying more than enough transcendence to last a lifetime), and I'm still not sure how much he comprehends how gravely this country has been gutted over the last decade. My rooting interest is less about Obama himself than about how big a hurt he can put to the Republican Party. I don't want the Republican Party simply defeated in November, I want to see it smashed beyond all recognition, in such wriggling, writhing, anguished disarray that it can barely reconstitute itself, so desperate for answers that it looks to Newt Gingrich for visionary guidance, his wisdom and insight providing the perfect cup of hemlock to finish off the conservative movement for good so that it can rot in the salted earth of memory unmissed and unmourned in toxic obscurity.

Even for the unaligned and unexcited Dems of Roxie's World, that last sentence's Dantesque vision of the electoral hell Republicans will likely face on November 4 is pleasing to contemplate. And it's nice to have something to look forward to as the grim realities of Great Depression 2.0 become clearer every time a stock market opens -- with a crash -- somewhere around the world. The moms went to a block party last night and were joking with the neighbors that we'll all lose our shirts and be working into our nineties -- but, hey, at least Democrats will be in charge for the rest of our miserable lives.

Hillary in 2016! Chelsea in 2024! Sasha Obama in 2036 (when she will be 35 years old). Perhaps sister Malia will want a term when Chelsea is finished in 2032, or maybe one of Pelosi's granddaughters. Who cares, as long as the hideous progeny of Karl Rove, Dick Cheney, and Grover Norquist will never get their hands on the ship of state?

It's pretty to think so, isn't it, lovelies? Here's to seeing all these bastards unmissed, unmourned, and unemployed.

Oh, and if Obama is upset that he still hasn't earned the endorsement of America's favorite dog blog devoted to politics, pop culture, and basketball, he can console himself at having gotten the nod from a publication whose audience is about the same size as ours and very nearly as sophisticated. Take heart, Senator. Somebody loves you, and we may learn to yet.