The Rogue Voice


February 01, 2008

Editor's rant: Vote the bums out

By Stacey Warde
As Election 2008 heats up, we find ourselves less tolerant of the Old Guard and eager for the change we keep hearing so much about.
And as much as Hillary tries to make Obama appear like a country bumpkin with no experience or connections, you have to remember she voted for the war in Iraq, while Obama’s the only candidate in this election who openly opposed the war, which was a disaster from the start, based on lies and disinformation that well-connected Hillary fell for.
If a disgraced administration could bamboozle someone as intelligent and experienced as Hillary, what other failures of intelligence and statecraft might befall her as president?
Is she really fit for office?
Commentator Max Talley has another idea just as disturbing. Hillary’s “arrogant inevitability,” he says, might just help her to “bludgeon her way through the primary and lose the general election” in “Hildebeast” on page 5.
The Republican Party has done plenty to fuck things up royally but did it with help from Old Guard Democrats like the Clintons.
Throw the bums out, we say.
It’s gonna take a lot of years and hard work to right the ship of state that the Bush administration so cavalierly ran into the ground, thumbing its nose at statesmanship and civility and diplomacy.
I doubt four more years of the Clintons who, like so many other well-heeled Democrats went along with the Republican program, will help move us in the right direction.
I’ll vote my working class values and choose a candidate who will put an end to war, make healthcare available to rich and poor alike, and put money back into jobs, education and the arts.
Dennis Kucinich, the goofy looking Congressman with the beautiful wife who stands about three heads taller than he, got my attention with his gutsy call for impeachment against Dick Cheney.
I took the Peace Train that his supporters scheduled during the holidays and tried to get into the spirit of things but couldn’t bring myself to cast my lot with them.
I found myself thinking of Obama and Edwards, candidates who seemed to be real contenders and capable of capturing enough votes and support to not only make a differnce but to trounce the Republicans in November.
Nonetheless, there’s a lot to see on the train, as you’ll discover in my essay, “Riding on the Peace Train,” starting on page 17.
Don’t get publisher Dell Franklin started on the campaign. He’s as angry as I am about what’s happened to this country in the seven years of Bush’s reign. Angry enough to spit. I know, because I’ve been sprayed a few times during conversations about the people who’ve been running the country and plundering the national treasury for personal gain.
Dell’s got a name for the tough-guy posturing of fools who never served their country or had to defend themselves in a fight and yet carry on as though they’re the only people bad enough to stop terrorism: Pussies.
We’ve seen enough of them in White House photo-ops and speeches, but you have to wonder where they came from and how they got that way. Maybe it’s because their parents coddled them so much they never got their hands dirty, never broke an arm or nose or scraped their shins on barbed wire.
They lived in glass houses and wore helmets to protect their mullets.
Dell will tell you plainly: Pussies rule. It’s as true in the neighborhood as it is in the White House. And it all started when helmets became mandatory. See Dell’s commentary on page 6.
A helmet might be a fine parting gift for the soon-to-be lame duck president, who has always been something of a lame duck his entire life, and the worst president ever.
I would never want that job and find myself admiring men of lesser ambition, men like Bert Silva, who struggled to make a living in New York City during the ‘50s as an illustrator and found love and made a pretty decent life for himself.
Bert draws the Bottoms Up cartoon we run with Letters and Commentary. If you saw him, you’d think he was Charles Bukowski reincarnated.
We knew he can tell a good story because we’ve heard a few at Jim Ruddell’s Smokehouse in Cayucos, where we gather weekly to chaw on ribs and spread the love of storytelling. But we were delighted to discover he can write as well as tell a fetching story, as you’ll see in his real-life tale of gags and gangsters in “New York scramble” on page 20.
And speaking of Bukowski, we introduce a new young writer, Larry Narron, whose poem, “When I think of you, Bukowski,” can be found on page 7. Watch for Larry’s work in future editions. We think he’s got what it takes to be a writer, which is a lot harder than being president, and a whole lot more fun than being a pussy.
George W. Bush isn’t the only person who’s turned everything he touches into shit. Dell, as a teen, experienced the same thing and was taken under his father’s wing to learn how to be more responsible in his “Personal Worst” on page 8.
Finally, Duane Hagabee offers his thoughts on rudeness in SLO and makes a good point about its rise among the homeless; it’s not just the rich and famous who are rude. See page 12.
But I have to say, if I have choice, I’d rather be rude than a pussy. §


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