Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As to be hated needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
Alexander Pope, Essay on Man. Epistle ii. Line 217.
So if the Lords of Karma decided my earthly ride had gotten a little, um,...too elitist, and suddenly put me in charge of the McCain campaign, here's what I'd do. I'd slap a couple of strips of duct tape over La Palin's mouth, put some powdered Xanax in McCain's coffee, and force-feed Cindy McCain a cheeseburger. Then I'd thin out the skinhead factor at their rallies by posting a No Shirt, No Screaming rule. If I could do all that, I'm not saying McCain would win, but he might not get the ass-kicking that's surely waiting in the wings.
The problem with the McCain\Palin hate-mongering is just what Pope says. At some point, we all embrace the nightmare. So keep it up and you lose, McCain. Just keep talking about That One, mofo. Keep pointing out his vileness, his terrist social clubbing, his weird high-yeller otherness...and sooner or later the horror movie will no longer scare anyone. In fact, we'll begin to feel sort of furrily comfortable with our ghastliest fear. This truism is utterly predictable. Should the rotten GOP campaign go on long enough, a moment would come when the angriest, most church-bombing, Nazi-saluting, Palin-supporting dumbass would start loving him some Obama. I guarantee.
You see, like an elephant, your own Writer to the Stars has such a memory, she can recall when Psycho first came out. All the newspaper ads noted that a trained nurse! would be stationed in every theater, just in case... Those with weak hearts were cautioned not to attend at all!, at least in Arlington, Virginia c. 1960. Should you melt down completely, an ambulance! would transport you, as you howled, bit and scratched, all the way to a hospital! And now? Norman Bates has taken on the fond, strange-smelling, slightly embarrassing aspect of someone's elderly clocked-out uncle. That one... The one you have to invite for Thanksgiving. The one who mumbles to himself and who gloms the relish tray, then puts all the black olives in his pocket. That one.
This AM, as I was perusing various pix of Medusa, I was innarested to learn that she has come to be seen as a Gorgoneion. That is, as an evil diverting device. According to the classics, just gazing upon her turned men to stone. She was killed by Perseus, who used her head in battle against his enemies, who were promptly changed into enemy quartz. And then her image was transferred to the shield of Athena, a butt-kicking goddess if ever there was one. Most other evil diverting devices, I found out, were reflective, so that when evil peered into them it only saw itself. Is that why Versace used the Medusa as his logo? To deflect possible rock-star and botox-celeb cooties back onto their carriers? Something to think about, but not today.
Today, I'm happy Obama cruised into a classy win on the debate. I'm sorry McCain can't seem to get a grip and is, in fact, becoming a little Norman Batesy himself.
You know who I mean. John McCain.
That one.
The problem with the McCain\Palin hate-mongering is just what Pope says. At some point, we all embrace the nightmare. So keep it up and you lose, McCain. Just keep talking about That One, mofo. Keep pointing out his vileness, his terrist social clubbing, his weird high-yeller otherness...and sooner or later the horror movie will no longer scare anyone. In fact, we'll begin to feel sort of furrily comfortable with our ghastliest fear. This truism is utterly predictable. Should the rotten GOP campaign go on long enough, a moment would come when the angriest, most church-bombing, Nazi-saluting, Palin-supporting dumbass would start loving him some Obama. I guarantee.
You see, like an elephant, your own Writer to the Stars has such a memory, she can recall when Psycho first came out. All the newspaper ads noted that a trained nurse! would be stationed in every theater, just in case... Those with weak hearts were cautioned not to attend at all!, at least in Arlington, Virginia c. 1960. Should you melt down completely, an ambulance! would transport you, as you howled, bit and scratched, all the way to a hospital! And now? Norman Bates has taken on the fond, strange-smelling, slightly embarrassing aspect of someone's elderly clocked-out uncle. That one... The one you have to invite for Thanksgiving. The one who mumbles to himself and who gloms the relish tray, then puts all the black olives in his pocket. That one.
This AM, as I was perusing various pix of Medusa, I was innarested to learn that she has come to be seen as a Gorgoneion. That is, as an evil diverting device. According to the classics, just gazing upon her turned men to stone. She was killed by Perseus, who used her head in battle against his enemies, who were promptly changed into enemy quartz. And then her image was transferred to the shield of Athena, a butt-kicking goddess if ever there was one. Most other evil diverting devices, I found out, were reflective, so that when evil peered into them it only saw itself. Is that why Versace used the Medusa as his logo? To deflect possible rock-star and botox-celeb cooties back onto their carriers? Something to think about, but not today.
Today, I'm happy Obama cruised into a classy win on the debate. I'm sorry McCain can't seem to get a grip and is, in fact, becoming a little Norman Batesy himself.
You know who I mean. John McCain.
That one.
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