Hilary Clinton just whupped Bernie Sanders in South Carolina, bringing back memories of Gene McCarthy in 1968, a man who roused support of the young and hopeful who saw their hopes dashed against the rocky coastline of money and entrenched power. Reaction of the disappointed: many of them didn’t vote at all, many stayed stoned for years to come, disavowing all interest in the flawed political process.
My memories may be cobwebbed and dusty but I think Clean Gene was a better man than either of the current aspirants to the Democratic presidential nomination. Admission: I didn’t feel that way back in ’68. In fact, all I wanted those many years in the past was to hang my army uniform on a hook and become a civilian again. I stayed stoned for years to come because I liked staying stoned.
My own political hopes of 1968? That the US would rinse away memories of Lyndon Johnson with a stiff shot of scotch and get on with being America, a land where the rich became richer, the poor became ever more poor and the guys in the middle received the mushroom treatment. (You know, kept in the dark and covered with shit…) Little did I realize the changes to come would be even worse that what I expected at the time and my expectations weren’t high.
So, now we have the Berner realizing that a man in his mid-70s who made his mark as a self-described Democratic Socialist would have about as much possibility of unseating the Queen of Mean as I do of getting in Britney Spear’s pants. (Note: I’m old and hefty–not as old as Bernie nor as hefty as Hilary–but Britney’s pants still wouldn’t fit me.) Money speaks in a deep, mellifluous voice; bullshit yells through an amplified bullhorn and flies in an airplane labeled Trump; and hope walks barefoot over the burning coals.
Yep, that’s the guy who will make us all shuck our shoes and tiptoe across the white-hot embers.
So, Hilary will assume the Democratic mantle, her smiling countenance peering from every available screen and surface while The Donald assumes the robe of assholiness that fits him so well and the rest of us are bent over the sawhorse of life where we shall be buggered until we learn to enjoy the sensation.
Below is an image of the putative First Lady (yeah, the old white-haired guy following two steps behind the putative President). Don’t that arouse pride in yer miserable chest, you puling, pukin’ piece of shit? (Note: image of Bill and Hill is by Matt Agudo. I hope he doesn’t mind if I borrow it. Image of Sanders and the McCarthy pin are both from Bing images. Trump and his bullhorn mouth is my modification of an Internet photo.)