I'm having an ongoing political/emotional crisis that I thought would be solved by this election, but which unfortunately has only gotten worse.

You see, when the 2000 election was finally over with Gore getting a primetime fucking, I had four years to fester and scorn. I had a scapegoat - Dubya and the GOP Machine – plotting an elaborate political coup. I endured four years of "family values,” the purposeless war and a shitty economy only to lay all my chips on good ole fashioned American sensibility in 2004.

Nice try.

It’s been now proven to me that Dubya isn't to blame. Neither is Karl Rove or the rest of the GOP. Rather, it’s the vast majority of my people – they’re fucking morons, content with replacing baseball with NASCAR, and substituting grits and okra for apple pie. Fuck all of these hucklebuck motherfuckers.

Tonight, I put a serious dent in the reserves of the local brewing company. No, this is not a drunken spiel; I'm feeling sharp enough to type.

Every once in a while I sit quietly by myself and wonder what brought my ancestors to this place. My daughter recently spent six weeks in Social Studies class on genealogy. In giving her a helping hand, I learned more about my family than I ever knew. For my Irish great-great grandfather, it was a no brainer – Ireland sucked bad at the time. I had always thought that was the intelligent branch of the family, but I was wrong. I got my hands on his immigration papers and the poor ignorant bastard signed his name with an “X” indicating that he could neither read nor write. End of story there.

My great-grandfather from Austria wasn't much better. He could read and write, but always claimed to his kids that he was an orphan with no siblings. Yet according to the research we did, I now know his father's name, along with those of his three siblings who emigrated to the U.S. within a 6 month time frame prior to his arrival. What the hell was his deal?

And then there was my great-grandfather from Belgium, a Captain in the army and a college educated engineer who left it all for the glamorous lifestyle of a blacksmith at a Johnstown coal mine. What the fuck, man?

These questions lead me to 3 logical conclusions:

  • The U.S. was so awesome then that it was worth rolling the dice on.
  • Europe sucked really bad (which I now know isn't true).
  • They were fucked up and got thrown out of Europe.

Personally, I'm leaning toward #3. My ancestors were either religious, economic, social, or psychotic fuck-ups who couldn't stand the heat in the kitchen, so they ran like punk-ass bitches. It's soothing to know that I come from such a pedigree batch of factory fuck-ups. It has all become very clear to me in so many ways. After all, the Pilgrims came here because they were way too uncool to stay where they were.

So, as not to disappoint my ancestors and the fine example they have set forth, I plan to leave the U.S. forever within a 10 year time frame and triumphantly reclaim my place in European society and clear the names of the fuck-ups who preceded me. I need enough time for my new business to generate enough income to get my parents situated to live without my presence, and for my daughter to finish high school. Then it’s hasta to this bullshit.

The heroes of today's youth are LeBron James and Hillary Duff – a far cry from my heroes; George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and Andy Kaufman. I like my heroes better; they had a clue and a vision. I sat through an exhaustive economic analysis of the U.S. economy tonight, with the conclusion that the apex of our economic power was in the 1920's, followed by a depression that should have stabilized us forever had it not been for WWII and the post-war prosperity of the 50's. I could get into this in more detail, but it's pretty boring and pointless. The bottom line, however, is that we’ve been floundering up and down ever since Truman dropped the bomb, with peaks and valleys never revealing the true economic correction that’s hitting us now.

It's over. The south has finally got their way. May they revel in their Puritanesque excrement.

I could stay and lead the charge for change, but I'd surely be found floating face down in the river, a victim of some unfortunate and mysterious "accident.” Nobody gives a shit about the patriots anymore, especially lobbyists and CEOs. You can't beat money. So, I'm sorry to disappoint the Fringe, but expect this to be the first and last scathing political opinion from me. This Celt is cashing in his oak leaves forever. From now on, I will talk about football, drunk nymphomaniacs and Hillary Duff's nipples until I move on. My perception of what this country is (or was) is dead.

December 10, 2004 in Paul Revere | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBack