Cry the Beloved Country

Playing on the iPod: Stiff Little Fingers, "Suspect Device"
Meters Swum Today: 1700

Well, folks, I just got done watching the First Great Presidential Debate. McCain showed up! Will wonders never cease! and before I get started, we all know who my candidate is, right? There's not really any doubt about that, is there? So anything I say about the other guy is bound to sound a little snarky, right? Yes, I know, I'm letting the Queen of Snark crown slip from my cold dead fingers. As they say in OA, "I'm willing not to be snarky." But I just wanted to clear up that whole partisan thingy right now.

I'm listening to Stiff Little Fingers. This should tell you something.

What we had here was a failure to communicate. Mr. Lehrer with the candidates, the candidates with each other, the candidates with we the people, and we the people with - well, everybody, I guess. I mean, seriously, how many times can you ask the same question and not get an answer before you throw a water glass at somebody? Mr. Lehrer must be a saint. Or he's been doing this so long he's immune, I'm not sure which.

Hang on, I gotta get on another SLF song - "Alternative Ulster," that's a good one. I played this album Inflammable Material (remember albums?) to death in high school. Literally, the black vinyl turned white. Had to buy another copy.

I think we're divided by a common language. I mean, you ask a guy how the serious problems we're facing with the economy might cut into your budget plans for being president, and he answers with, "I want to increase spending for preschool education"? Hello? Disconnect? And how does a question about dealing with Russia automatically lead to ranting about how we're not taking good care of our veterans? And don't even get me started with the old dude telling the other guy that he doesn't have the experience to understand (fill in the blank here). Why didn't he just call him a young whippersnapper and shake his cane at him? Thank God the younger guy finally mentioned the huge amount of money we're sinking into the war in Iraq and how bleeding $10 billion a month might just possibly be, I dunno, affecting the economy or something. I'd been screaming, "MENTION THE WAR, YOU IDIOT!!" at the TV for at least half an hour by then.

We stopped getting the paper recently, except on weekends, and oddly enough I don't miss it. Except "For Better or for Worse" which is in permanent reruns anyway. Well, I should say, I miss being somewhat informed but I sure don't miss the spike in blood pressure that went with my morning coffee. Yet here I watched the frickin' debates and once again I'll be sitting down to meditate with my AK-47 later. I started out angry, got worried, and ended the evening depressed as hell. I still like my guy better than the other guy, but Lord help me, he did not do a very good job tonight. If I were coming in as an outsider I'd be thinking, no matter who wins this thing, we're all well and truly fucked. No wonder the space aliens don't land here - it's probably on all their star charts: KEEP GOING. DON'T EVEN STOP FOR GAS.

Okay, my guy did do one thing right. He said we should kill Osama bin Laden. On a Buddhist-y sort of level I can't imagine how that's going to help anything but somebody had to say it. Maybe between now and the next debate he could, I dunno, fly over there, find the guy, sever his head and carry it triumphantly onstage in Nashville. That might help. Hell, that might even clinch 270 electoral votes.

Nashville. Dear God, Stuart Adamson lived in Nashville. If they hadn't cremated him we'd be picking up seismometer readings from turning over in his grave. I better go listen to The Skids for a while. And take my meds.