Bipartisanship: doing the wrong thing for *everyone*

The bailout is an excellent example of why bipartisanship sucks.  The left doesn’t like it because it’s clearly a giveaway to the rich Wall Street fucks who caused this whole mess; the right doesn’t like it because it’s a massive government interference in the economy which will result in more interference (through the massive changes in currency flow and tax laws that will be needed to pay for it). That’s why partisanship is a good thing:  suspicion.  Each group of partisans recognizes that it stands for a particular agenda, and that all of its proposals are created in order to further that agenda.  They regard other groups with that same mindset:  special interests are probably lying to us.  Human-created emergencies should never be attended to with haste.  And ALWAYS check the math. The middle, on the other hand, is much more Candide than that.  Slogan:  Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone were nice?  The middle, which has never stood for anything, tends to buy into what (enough) supposedly credible people tell them about anything.  Tom Stoppard, in _Professional Foul_, says that it is much easier to fool an educated man than it is to fool a child – the implication being that a child can’t be persuaded to see what’s not there.  I would add the corollary that it is much easier to trick people who think they’re working for the benefit of everyone; they have been persuaded to give up their partisan rancor, and they just have too hard a time seeing it when it’s there in others. And they’re just too freaking gullible when someone shouts “FIRE!!”, because they think it is possible to get rid of emergencies; partisans always see the enemy hanging around, trying to steer the country wrong.  They are much harder to stampede. Politics was never supposed to be the civil service.  This nation was founded by people who freaking hated each other’s guts, and thought the worse thing in the entire world (worse than asteroids hitting us!  worse than the black plague!  the end of everything!!!) was for the other group of people who signed the Constitution to get elected under it.  They suspended habeas corpus (on both sides) and arrested each others’ supporters for insulting them, they unloaded the rhetorical cannons and let them have every insult they could think up, they challenged each other to duels and got into brawls on the flloor of the House. Partisanship:  it’s the American way.  Because people who love this country genuinely disagree about how to run it.  Why?  Because they’re supposed to:  that’s what running a limited endeavor to attempt to manage the needs and wants of a group of diverse people with limited resources in the face of unlimited threats means. Never, ever trust a politician who *always* agrees with “the experts.”  Seriously.  They probably stopped and started eating eggs every time nutrition people changed their minds about whether eggs were good for you; hell, they probably adjust their nutritional supplements every time they read the paper.  Real politicians recognize that sometimes you have to pay attention to the experts, and sometimes you really shouldn’t (each side disagrees on when those times happen). That’s what leadership means; otherwise, we might as well dispense with the campaigns altogether and just be run by the relevants experts whenever their topics come up.  Let’s all get together, on both sides, and make a play against the middle.  Fuck Goldilocks.  Unlimber Sumter’s stick.  Let’s get it on!

What now?

The entire reality – that “collective hunch” as Lily Tomlin put it – is “really” a sea we have created to see the ripples of TheReal in; as if the world were a mirror for the wind, the leaves the bright flash of its hair, the grass the cool sussuration of its skin.  It makes itself up in us.

(All is vanity – actually a vanity, a mirror for the toilette of the unseen).

TheReal and reality cannot exist apart; they are what Romeo and Juliet mistook themselves for/became.

Because with every moment of the Thing, the Colour Out of Space, the Haunting of Hill House… there is always a morning after:  a Midas who cannot bear to see his daughter wear yellow, but a Midas who all the same knows he “has” normality when he sees it interrupted by memory.  A Lazarus who cannot sleep.  But who nonetheless continues.  A Schliemann standing at a little soiree, staring at the clean, buffed nails adorning his hand hard-edged with calluses won from shovel after shovel of Troy’s dirt…  his heartbeats metronome the moments between explanations of the difference between Paris and Paris.

This is a love note – a little Cyrano deBergerac pen pal piece – from reality to TheReal:  we love you.

Every time we take out the trash, we hope the bag will rip and some impossible piece of an artifact will fall out, half a crown, a map, a feather made of night.  A blue bottle that sloshes full but weighs nothing.  A snail shell in which you can see the night sky.

Anything.

We love you.  We cannot live without you.  We need not.  Like Morrison’s Beloved, you return for us.  Like a boomerang, nicked with the blood of some fantastic prey.

Every last breath is a waiting room for deus ex machina; a lobby always full before a door that might yet open.  A thirst that might bring rain.

In our secret hearts, we always hope that the answer to “What now?” will be your face.

You are the wind beneath our world.

You are the glance that need not speak.

You are (,) beloved.