Liberal Elite Loser

How to Shop With A Liberal

2005-04-28T21:44:00.000-05:00

We here at the Liberal Elite Loser office have been trying to lose a few pounds lately, and we think we've discovered the best diet
currently on the market. Just walk into your local grocery store this week and, as you load your Cheetos and Dr. Pepper onto the Converyer Belt of Doom, take a quick spin about 180 degrees. Not only is this good for those love handles, your twist should reveal to you a magazine rack stuffed with, among other things, copies of TIME, which has selected to put Ann Coulter front and center on the cover.

Ann Coulter. Is she news?

Of course she was wearing a very short dress and of course she had a demonic look on her face.

The ridiculous tagline included the provocative question: Is she serious?

She's seriously dangerous. What else matters?

I do appreciate her healing properties, however. One look at Ann and you put that junk food back on the shelf.
In fact, the very idea of eating food ever again is utterly repellent.

Thanks TIME!

Embracing Mediocrity

2005-04-23T11:54:00.000-05:00

Forgive the break, Losers, but the staff took most of the month of April off to go on yet another fact-finding mission to Iraq.

The facts, as they currently stand: Things still suck.

Now then: Perhaps it started with Bridget Jones and her diary,we're not really sure. The point is this: two recent best-sellers, Curtis Sittendfeld's PREP and Tom Perrotta's LITTLE CHILDREN, revolve around a unique romantic relationship that we're pretty sure wasn't commonplace back in the day: the secret, passionate affair between an average -looking woman and the kind of man even Catherine Zeta-Jones has to shave her legs for.

Okay, so these liasions aren't the stuff of Zale's diamond commercials Yet the fact that they even exist in not one but two works of Very Popular fiction is enough to give normal-looking women the world over pause.

If we were staff writers in the NY Times Style section, we would have a catchy name for this phenom. As it is, we merely recommend these books for their wit, insight and well-deserved acclaim, and to all the extremely attractive men who might stumble uopon them, we'd simply like to add: Get some ideas, will you?

Persistent Legislative State

2005-04-01T10:27:00.000-05:00

In his 1999 autobiography My Life As A Hypocritical Prick (Okay, okay, A Charge to Keep--can't we give everything a nickname too?), President Bush made mention of the fact that it wasn't his job to "replace the verdict of a jury unless there are new facts or evidence of which a jury was unaware, or evidence that the trial was somehow unfair".

Wow. That really sounds like a guy who gets the difference between the judicial and legislative branches, huh? The trouble is, George only goes out on that limb to defend the culture of death in Texas, where he presided over 152 executions, a US governor record.

One of those executed, you may recall, was Karla Faye Tucker, who went on Larry King before she was invited to join the culture of death by George Bush and the State of Texas. Journalist Tucker Carlson missed that interview, but in 1999 Bush told him about it. In an obviously unguarded moment, George included an imitation of Karla's response when King asked her what she would say to Governor Bush if she could talk to him. According to Carlson, Bush pursed his lips in mock desperation and imitated Karla Faye whimpering, "Please. Please, don't kill me."

My Life As A Hypocritical Prick. Get your copy today!

Pimp My News

2005-03-25T08:33:00.000-05:00

She Who Gave Birth to Me (ah, we all live with regrets) called up the other day in a classic old lady rage. "Have you read the NY Times lately?" she fumed. "It's nothing but a rag." I was mystified as to why she thought the paper had gone downhill (let's not even get into her insistence on giving it a nickname), but further conversation revealed that she simply hates all the bad news--- angry red states, sad blue states, persistent vegetative states--and blames the Times for this.

There's a lot of that going around these days, blaming the media for the news we beg them to give us. CNN,however, is taking the blame, and fighting fire with fire.

Sick of whimpering in the corner, licking its wounds from the Fair and Balanced bully, the network plans to give folks more of a reason to tune in and stick around. New president Jonathan Klein, the NY Times reports, is determined to increase the average time viewers spened watching CNN prime-time shows by 30 seconds a month.

Huh? 30 seconds a month would make that much difference? Apparently, it would, bringing in an estimated $10 million in ad revenue.

So what is the Kleinster giving us for our extra 30 seconds? We've seen Rick Sanchez in a shock belt, getting 50,000 volts of electricity.
On the one hand, okay --kinda silly. On the other hand, well----"Duuuuude, did you see that?"

How do I want my news? If the Times is a rag, then I guess I want a rag. If CNN needs to shock it's jocks for ratings, then, hell, I'll throw the switch. I want a 24 hour news channel that isn't a mouthpiece for the monarchy and if it means hanging out with my husband while we watch Paula Zahn read the news topless-- I guess that's a sacrifice he'll just have to be willing to make.

"Uh, Niddy, hold on, I just wanna watch CNN for another, oh---30 seconds....."

Living Will

2005-03-21T13:16:00.000-05:00

When even one American exists in what doctors call a "permanently vegetative" state, with no discernible thought or feeling, our hearts go out to all Americans living in such a manner, although most don't get nearly the press of the case that rocked Florida.

The spouse suffers most cruelly in a land where the sanctity of marriage AND the sanctity of life are our highest values; the one who knows you best and loves you most may be forced to stand by helplessly while others buoy the nation with false hopes of present cognition and future miracles.

So hang in there, Laura. It's only for a few more years, and sometimes--just sometimes---We could swear that he understands what we're saying, even if for only a moment.....

Kerry Canoodles My Kid, Film at 11

2005-03-14T12:20:00.000-05:00

One of the advantages of living in a totalitarian state is that when a Blue celebrity comes to town, the same 100 people are invited to partake in a Meet and Greet. Such was the situation that brought me to Liberal Elite Loser Central this morning, to a coffee for John Kerry, visiting my state for God Only Knows What Reason.

I brought along a two-and-a-half year old constituent who seemed wildly disinterested in the whole affair. "Will you say hi to Senator Kerry?" I kept asking on the drive to the famous politico tavern where the LEL's would be gathering. And, always,from little Kate, the same reply: "No. I'm shy."

When we arrived at said tavern there was indeed the same 100 people I saw at the Theresa Heinz Kerry Meet and Greet right before the election. There was the tray of grapes, the urns of coffee, the exhausted young people who want very badly to do this for a living dressed in matching black.

The announcement was made: no speech, no posing for photos, just a run-through, a quick shake of the hand, and then the Senator from the Great State of Massachutsass had to move on down the road.

I shoved the two-and-a-half year old in front of me, knowing that Kerry would feel a need to stop and smell the Johnson's Baby Shampoo.
And boy, did he ever. Kate got a tummy rub, then a hug, then another sort of grope on her sides, then a vigorous scratch on the head. During all this canoodling, I felt a need to say something, so I made a joke he's probably heard from every supporter with a kid under 5 and an IQ over 80: "This is Kate. She's a life-long democrat, Sir."

Guffaws all around and then he was off, shaking hands and posing for pictures when people begged. The whole thing lasted about ten minutes, or so I assumed.. Kate ran into the kitchen and out the back door, giving me the escape route I needed to beat the crowd out of the tavern parking lot, itself a touching field of gas-efficient vehicles bearing leftist bumper stickers. A West Coast parking lot upended in a tornado and landing in the South...

Off we went, Kate relieved that this weird "Meet Senator Kerry" nonsense was over, her driver relieved that the intense raspberry noises Kate had been making just prior to the Senator's entrance ceased once he made his way toward us.

The fates smiled down on me; this was never a reality:

"Nice to meet you, Kate". Rub, Pat, Rub, Pat.

"Phhhhhhhhhhhffffft!"

Not that he hasn't heard it before, you understand.

The People's Right to Know Act

2005-03-07T08:51:00.000-05:00

Exciting News from my favorite Red State! We are about to pass something called the "Women's Right to Know" act, requiring abortion providers to share information with women scheduled for abortions--namely, telling them what the procedure entails, any possibility of fetal pain, other alternatives to abortion, then sending them home for 24 hours to reflect on these fun facts before returning for their abortion.

I can just hear the women learning and growing now:

"THAT'S what an abortion is? Sheesh, I just thought it was some kind of spa treatment. Thanks, Women's Right to Know act!"

"You mean, instead of extracting my fetus I can continue the pregnancy and put the baby up for adoption? What a crazy new fad!
Thanks, Women's Right to Know act!"

No doubt the three people in this state still willing to perform abortions will simple read this information in a monotone off a preprinted card and politely inform the patient to come back the next day.

Still, this got me to thinking: lots of other legal medical procedures have at least the possibility of resulting in fatality--are we really giving people enough time to consider all their options?

Sure, now women have a right to know. But what about everyone else?

"Mr. Green, this could be a very simple operation. Or I could accidentally leave an implement buried in your intestines, causing you to get a raging infection and die mysteriously in two or three days. Make sure you really want to go under the knife, will you? See you tomorrow!"

"Mr. Jones, this is a risky operation to begin with, and my anesthesiologist has lost a few. You're no spring chicken, you've had a good life so far--why not take 24 hours to ask yourself: is this how I want to go out? Here's a certificate for dinner at Red Lobster. Have a nice meal, and let's talk tomorrow!"

So I'd like to introduce a bill: The People's Right to Know Act. No one should have to undergo a medical procedure without some helpful time to consider all the possibililties, all the options and a fabulous last lobster supper. (A last pot roast, for all our Jewish friends).

The People's Right to Know Act. Because fear makes for a stronger America.

Held Hostage by my Government, Day Two

2005-03-03T12:47:00.000-05:00

Jury Duty was only supposed to last a few hours but yesterday I was at the courthouse for 12. This was primarily due to the utter incompetance of the lawyer for the plaintiff, who objected everytime the other lawyer opened her mouth. After about five of these, the judge would call the two of them to her bench. There would be intense whispering for twenty minutes. Then the jury would be sent back to our little jury holding tank for an hour or more while they, presumably, raised their voices in further discussion of a case that seemed open-and-shut from initial arguments.

So this gave my fellow jurers and I lots of time to get to know one another. Just me, Whitey the Wanker, and five reasonably bright and kind black folks who probably wondered what they did in a former life to deserve being trapped in a skyscraper with a Liberal Elite Loser.

Most of the time we actually had fun, discusing kids, men and women, politics and fashion, even touching upon The Race Stuff. (At one point, I actually found myself saying, "Well, I could give you my opinion on that, but I feel a need to say that I can't really speak for the entire white race.")

The White Race. This is not a group that I've ever thought of myself as being a part of--this is a group that I imagine spends a fair amount of time building crosses to burn and searching eBay for a good deal on white sheets.

And Yet....who was I kidding? Everyone else--judge, bailiff, jurors, lawyers, plaintiff, were black.

Bottom line: When you're the only white girl in the room, you're the White Girl in The Room.. Maybe you went to see the Alvin Ailey Dance Troupe the same Sunday that Phoenicia did, maybe you voted for the right candidate--what the hell difference does that make, Loser?

Wake up and smell what one writer called "the enormous, invisible backpack of white privilege."

At one point, I politely requested some information from the judge. When she miscontrued what I needed, I again politely rephrased my needs and indicated why I needed this information during the lunch break. I thought nothing of my assertion until I got into the hallway and saw the look on my fellow jurors' faces.

It was unmistakable--"You WEARIN' that backpack, Bitch."

So I regrouped and recouped, sending a verbal apology to the judge through the bailiff that would have done a Japanese businesswoman proud.

A few more things like that happened, forcing me to realize that having one black friend does not make you Down with the Community.
Stupid wanker. What will I learn next week? Owning boots doesn't make me a cowboy?

Heartwarming Conclusion: fortunately, when it came to make a making a decision on the case, my fellow jurors and I were absolutely cut from the same culture.

Bitch wanted an enormous backpack of money for causation she couldn't prove in the slightest.

Oh, we gave her the backpack alright. Just made sure it was invisible too.

Held Hostage by My Government, Day One

2005-03-01T21:31:00.000-05:00

Me. They picked me to be on a jury. That's like--what? No, no, think of stomething stupider than picking Bush to be president.

Don't ask me what the case is about--I'm not allowed to discuss it. I will admit that there are no pedophile celebrities of dubious race and gender involved. I will admit that someone wants money and someone else doesn't want to give them any. I will admit that the judge administered some complicated oath today (it might have been in pig latin) and, for all I know, I agreed to pay the money personally, or
testify on behalf of Michael Jackson.

"I know he sleeps with little kids, but c'mon! THRILLER was the number one video for 853 weeks in a row!"

I am the only person of color on my jury if, by color, you mean, you know, white.

I didin't notice this for the first half hour the six of us were chatting in some weird, airy waiting room.
Then, when I noticed it, it was like---you know those cartoon characters that only start to fall once they realize they've run off the cliff? It was like that. I was fine, and then I noticed, and then I felt like everything that came out of my mouth sounded so white.

"Man, I'm hungry. I could use some fried chicken!"

"I could go for some Mac and Cheese!"

ME: "I myself pine after a nice sauvignon blanc and a bowl of mussels!"

No, I didn't actually say that. But I reeked it. And I reeked that I feared that I reeked it.

Liberal wanker. Every jury should have one.

Give Us A Hand

2005-03-01T00:24:00.000-05:00

All this ripping apart of the Queen and Jude Law has taken my mind off to England lately--well, it's better than sitting around here and waiting for the insurgents to discover my Whole Foods Market, isn't it?---and, still in the British mode, I have decided to adopt a recent suggestion from one Brit that I help the word "wanker" achieve mass popularity here in the states.

I see this as sort of a pyramid scheme: if my twelve readers (thanks for joining us, Dave in Salt Lake!) get twelve of their friends to start using wanker all the time, and so on, and so forth, I think it will catch on like, like, oh, I don't know, those disposable deodorant wipes you can buy now. I think they're up to twelve customers, those wipes (welcome, Darla from Grand Rapids!).

Wanker. From, of course, the original "wanking", or "you've been in the bathroom for an hour--what the hell are you doing in there?"

Of course, "Wanker" has long since left it's tawdry roots and blossomed into the perfect word for a certain kind of idiot we encounter each and every day. There is no American English equivalent, that I can see. Bastard is too harsh, Moron too soft. Besides, a Wanker isn't necessarity stupid, in the conventional sense, just, you know, a Wanker. You see what I mean? No equal.
And they've got better tea.
And came up with The Office. The Wankers.

So: Liberal Elite Loser issues the challenge. Let's get the wanking show on the road. I promise you won't grow hair on your palms.

Rock the Law

2005-02-28T10:17:00.000-05:00

Did you see the Oscar's last night? Chris Rock is like a god to me, and I thought he was pretty damn edgy for prime time, hitting Bush hard and giving Farenheit 911 that Verbal Oscar. But his whole rap about "If you want a star, WAIT" was a little odd. He joked about people not holding out for the best actor when they're casting a film, but his dissing of Colin Ferrell, Toby McGuire and Jude Law, while funny, seemed a little off to me. I mean, there's so many worse actors out there. And why not hit the ladies? I've been waiting for someone to send Andi MacDowell off crying for years.

Jude got hit the hardest, mainly because he's been in so many damn movies lately, and Chris was on target there. But Jude Law isn't just a pretty boy. Dude can ACT, cheekbones, riveting blue eyes and all. So what's the beef?

Here's my theory: this isn't about movies. Chris Rock, in addition to being the funniest man on the planet, is kind of famous for imploring black men to get it together, commitment-wise: to marry their women, raise their children and stick with the whole family thing come hell or
hotties. His not-ready-for-prime-time standup routine featured, at one point, this great bit about the trick to staying with a woman: you have to find ways to make "old pussy" seem like "new pussy".

Trust me: when he says it? Funny, girls.

So here's the thing: in addition to starring in every other movie AND looking like a greek god, Jude Law has somewhat recently left his wife of many years (800 years in that business) and their kids (who I'm sure he sees tons, but still) and taken up with a much younger woman.

I think Chris Rock reads the same crap I do, and is well aware of this, and therefore feels that Jude Law is overdue for some worldwide
ribbing. Sure in England his break with Sadie made headline after headline, but over here we don't do that. Especially to pretty white boys. Over here, we move quickly from WHAT WENT WRONG? to BRAD'S NEW LOVE. ( Alex, Who is Natalie Portman in the May issue of PEOPLE? ). Over here, it's out with the old, in with the young. So the older I get, the more I love Chris Rock.

Jude Law, I predict, will be downright sanguine about this when touching knees with Katie Couric. Really, how could he care?

You might also ask, how could I care? Simple. I'm a loser, Baby.

Her Royal Mistake

2005-02-23T14:07:00.000-05:00

So Queen Elizabeth is refusing to attend the wedding ceremony of Charles and Camilla, citing something about wanting to "respect their desire for a low-key event" or somesuch. Apparently some folks are up in arms over this, just the latest in a series of slights that included a venue change from a Castle to a crummy office across the street. Yet surely some are asking, "Why can't I have a mother like that?"

We here at Liberal Elite Loser are not immune to the attractions of marriage, and many of us have happily succumbed to that ornate ritual that is the Modern Wedding, a three day fest of drunken brawling and elaborate drag that still manages to appear wholesome beyond belief.

Yet we can't for the life of us figure out why so many divorced couples go on to remarry and, rather than whip down to City Hall or off to some tropical island, insist recreating that Felliniesque spectacle.

The thinking is understandable: you got it right this time, and want to shout out your relief and joy to the world. And perhaps enough years have transpired that you've forgotten just how physically and psychologically exhausting it is to have that "special day." But just think for a minute. Remember? City Hall, here you come.

Still and all, maybe you should kick up a fuss, just a bit---a commitment that great deserves a posse of witnesses, the people who matter to you most, even if they have to leave their fortress of power for the lowly town hall register offcie down the way.

How does a Queen of England cross the road?
Like a mother, with a son waiting on the other side.

The Rapture of Reform

2005-02-18T14:15:00.000-05:00

So forever I've been thinking that George's No Child Left Behind education plan is really about those of us who will be "left behind" when the rapture comes, just some code phrase for his fellow fundamentalists.I never took too close a look at the program. I mean, if it's Endtime, I don't want innocent little kids sitting here with me on Planet Hell just because their Mama forgot to get 'em saved.
So--No Child Left Behind-- Just a follower of the Good Book being thoughtful, right?

Fortunately I recently received an e-mail outlining the Left Behind plan, and have attempted to put it into language that even failing children can understand.

So why not take a minute to learn about the President's NCLB Plan instead of hitting that trashy porn site? (I put trackers on your hits,babe, I KNOW where you go...) Okay,this'll be fast. You'll still have time for porn:

NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND: LIVING THE DREAM
As we all know, people and institutions perform so much better when punished for their failings rather than rewarded for their successes! Therein lies the foundation of this kinder, gentler education reform plan.

STEP ONE: Find the failing schools. The failing schools are schools in which students underperform on tests in the basic disciplines.
Schools will be assessed in about 37 different categories, and there can be no collective failing rate in any category or group or the whole
school is deemed a failure (Special Ed and English as A Second Language Students--get cracking !) Common categories include gender, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, etc. In order to get up to a minimum of 37 categories --picked, apparently, because it was the age the president was when he finally passed these tests--sexual orientation, number of relatives buying lottery tickets, households owning cats named Snowflake, and Children Who are Just Damn Stupid are groups also taken into consideration.

STEP TWO: No doubt one of these groups failed a test. (You won't even have to get to the stupid kids). Fail the school. Go down there, herd everybody out into the courtyard. Put a stinkbomb in the building to ferret out any stragglers. Line up both faculty and students according to birthday. No, according to height. No, no, use the birthdays, and incorporate the year. Let's see who lies.

STEP THREE: Tell the school how very, very dissapointed you are in them. Remind them that this is NOT how you raised them. Ask them, "If a rival school jumped off a cliff would you jump off a cliff?"

STEP FOUR: Suspend everyone indefinitely. Tell them that they have two years to improve or they have to give students the option of transferring to a "successful" school. If anyone asks where a "successful" school might be, remind them that educational institutions should not speak until spoken to.

STEP FIVE: Since it is projected that by the year 2014 states like California will have a 99% failure rate, it is unlikely that many schools in 2005 are passing the test. Nonetheless, if a school insists that it's a "successful" school, take a good, long look at the records. After all, there were lots of guys like that at Yale back in the day, big smarty pants with good G.P.A.s ( but everyone knew they were Big Time Cheaters. Plus boring). You probably have a Boring, Big Time Cheater school on your hands. In fact, just assume this. Inform them that they are "double failed to infinity".

STEP SIX: Enact a two year waiting period for schools to improve. This will be challenging, as you have decided not to allow failing schools to reopen. Give students an option to either transfer to"successful" schools, or to sit quietly in the abandoned failed schools until the scores improve. Remind them to keep their feet off the furniture. If a student suggests that there is no furniture anymore, ask them if they eat with that mouth. Then fail them again.

Yet Another Invitation

2005-02-17T20:11:00.000-05:00

We would like to stay away from the topic of the war in Iraq for awhile because:
a) we really don't know that much about it, and
b) young kids are dying and it's depressing, and
c) what? b isn't enough for you?

The problem is, right when we were about to permanently leave that wartorn hell for the much happier prospect of finding more homophobic leaders with "L" word daughters, an invitation to JOIN THE ARMY came in the mail. To us. In the mail. To US.

Okay, not really to us, to some named, we kid you not, Chandler, who used to live at this very address.
(insert own Friends joke here).

Well, of course we unfolded Chandler's brochure,, being the sorts who don't get many invitations to join things (like you haven't figured that out by now) and also curious to learn how the "Be All You Can Be" folks are selling their wares THIS season.

Let's start by giving credit where credit is due. And also blame. And also a sort of twisted fascination.

Back to credit: The slick brochure we received doesn't even pretend there isn't a war on. All the photos are a kind of grainy black-and-white, very serious, with ominous skies in the background. One soldier is even standing near an gnarled, thorny tree -- for fashioning, in a pinch, some sort of crown?-- (although his casual tapping on what appears to be an electronic version of Battleship belies the intensity of the scene. )

THE STRENGTH OF THE NATION LIES IN OUR SOLDIERS the copy proclaims, (inferring, of course, that if the strength of our nation lies in our leaders we're pretty much screwed.)

So all that's fairly honest, the bleak photography, the serious looking troops,etc.

We're just having a little bit of trouble with the free T-shirt.

GET A FREE U.S. ARMY T-SHIRT WITH NO OBLIGATION the ad suggests.

Really? No obligation? No heavy sales pitch? No hounding? No recruiter showing up at your high school prom, cutting in on the dance floor and dipping you until you agree to sign up for six days and seven nights in fun-filled Fallujah?

You see, this is why we'll never be tough enough to do what those kids are doing over there--we've already being all we can be, and all we can be is cynical shits.

Sigh. Poor Chandler. A free t-shirt just sitting there with his name on it, and he'll never know.......

Fantasy Wedding

2005-02-16T09:10:00.000-05:00

Vice-President and Mrs. Richard Cheney
Mr. and Mrs. Alan Keyes
reluctantly request your company
at the commitment ceremony
of
Mary Cheney, Republican Lesbian
and
Maya Keyes, Liberal Queer
On Pride Weekend
At the Church of the Selfish Hedonists
San Francisco, California.

(the ladies are registered at Crate and Barrel, Macy*s, and Fuckyoudad.com)

**********************************************************************************

Just kidding, Maya. A hottie like you with that Cheney girl? Please.
But that crazy bigot Alan Keyes having such an out-and-proud daughter? Dude, it's like a Michael Moore wet dream.....

Pedal to the Medal

2005-02-14T07:08:00.000-05:00

So remember last night during the Grammys---what do you mean, you weren't watching? Why, it's a spectacular funfest of strange musical bedfellows!

Anyway, somewhere in that colorful mosaic--- before or after Mrs. Mark Anthony swathed herself in so much fabric she was one yard shy of a burkha, then sang a tepid duet with her hubby on a set that looked like Grace Kelly's hotel suite in TO CATCH A THIEF, a song that translated into English must say, "What the hell/are we doing up here/ wandering around this graceless, retro set/ like honeymooners who don't know how to do it"---somewhere in there, between Bono and a hard place, there was actually a paen to classic southern rock, sung by both pretty girls and boys and men who looked like they crawled out from under a Jack Daniel's bottle. And, of course, they shit-kicked it off with "Freebird".

Freebird. Man, that takes you back. Somehow, that plaintive rockout number brought to mind the recent story of several young Marines who had been awarded Purple Hearts for injuries received in Iraq, only to have their medals revoked. It turned out that their injuries were not directly the result of enemy fire. One guy, for instance, was run over by a tank while he was sleeping in a foxhole.

This military gaffe made front page news but I'm just guessing the soldiers themselves weren't nearly as up in arms as others of us. There are those who believe strongly that the Purple Heart should never be given to those badly injured in accidents not caused by enemy action, and those who believe that just being over there in that real-life no-way-out violent video game makes you Purple Heart material. Hangnail? Here's your heart. Halitosis? Here's your heart.

Of course, with 62 Purple hearts currently up for auction on Ebay (mostly from WWII and Korea) it looks like some honors last a lifetime- but end rapidly after that. God, I'll miss Henry. Hey, where's that damn medal? That oughta be worth somethin'....

More to the point might be the words of one solider, Robert Acosta, who returned from Iraq without a right hand and use of his left leg:

Yeah, I got a purple heart. I don't care. No soldier wants a purple heart. I'll tell you that much. No soldier wants it. Awards don't mean nothing to me. I don't need anything to prove I was there. I know I was there. I got a constant reminder.

Which, of course, brings me back to last night's Grammys--I can't believe you weren't watching!---when the southern rock homage medley thing came up and they played "Freebird". Those old enough to recall the glory days of 70's stadium rock know that it was THE song that brought out the lighters. No, I don't mean for smoking dope. Well, okay, for that too.

So maybe we should just stop all this debate about who gets a purple heart, stop pretending that a historical honor the military has bestowed on it's heroes since George Washington is still the thing that floats young boats.

Maybe, instead, we just file into our local mega arenas, put our struck-down soldiers on a stage, and give them the rock star treatment. When your name is read, ten of thousands of voices yell, "Whoo-hoo!" or "I love you!" Then all those lighters come out and flare up, just for a second, just for you.

Two Buck Prince Chuck

2005-02-10T10:49:00.000-05:00

Well, the big news among the desperate housewives this morning is the nukes in North Korea and the impending nuptials of Prince Charles and his horsey lover. Seeing as Liberal Elite Loser is a certain kind of political blog, we'll go with the Wench and Future King.

Camilla can't ever be queen, of course, but we feel she fits far better than Diana did into that royal family mode, what with her complete obliviousness to modern culture and her obvious preference for animals over people. When Diana huddled over all those unattractive, dying hospital patients, tears brimming in her telegenic blue eyes, well, gack. Who needs it? Pint, anyone?

So best wishes to the happy couple and our heart goes out to all the put-upon Brits, continually embarrassed by a royal family reigning generation after generation with no visible talent for the job.

Least you don't actively pick yours, kids, so drink to that. We'd buy the beer, but we're still too busy crying in ours to order another round.....

Does My Butt Look Big in This Country?

2005-02-10T01:29:00.000-05:00

So no doubt you have noticed that we've been gone for a week (and when we say "you" of course, we mean the throngs of Liberal Elite Losers fans that wear our trucker caps and flash our trademark thongs at the president of their choice). Well, it was time that the staff high-tailed it out of Liberal Media Hell and headed on over to Iraq to see if the election really had turned things around.

Had it ever! Dude, it was crazy--first new mall we spotted had a Gap, Abercrombie, Limited, Limited Express, Claire's---it was out-of-control freedom to look hot.

We couldn't believe the way Iraqis were loading up on the bargains, then hitting the better stores for Juicy Couture and whatnot.
And why shouldn't they? There's a war going on still (and I don't mean Lindsay vs. Britney, though that's pretty ugly too) but there's no reason why people in a democratic society shouldn't exercise their right to own the latest styles.

Even the insurgents. We know that's pretty big of us but, like the bible says, Jesus wants us to love our neighbors and the assholes trying to blow us up even though we're only trying to help. Assholes.

Anyway, it was a really cool trip; don't believe the hype. You're safer in Iraq than you are on the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, seriously!

And if you go there, stop in at the Najaf Hooter's. Tell Nasran that the "cute American boy" still wants to see what's under that black hoodie, ya know what I'm sayin'?

Franken, What You Smokin' ?

2005-02-01T08:48:00.000-05:00

Lots of times I agree with Al Franken, but I was floored when the Air America Aviator suggested yesterday that more Americans would vote if we declared Super Tuesday a national holiday.

I'm wondering if Al and I live in the same America. In my America, a free Tuesday means a free Monday for millions of people who are gonna grab that four-day weekend rather than hit the polls. Maybe they'll tell themselves that they'll return from their leaf peeping expedition or squirrel hunting trip in time to make it to the polls by 7pm. But they won't.

More likely, they'll just convince themselves that their vote means little, but their need to gulp tequila out of a hose in some Carribbean bar is
right up there with affordable health care and a woman's right to choose.

"Choose THIS, baby!" they'll howl from their Club Med hideaways. And that's just the gals.

No, we ain't no Iraqis, crawling through barbed wire with what's left of our limbs to vote. If we want to increase voter turnout in this country, we'll have to make life here so unbearable that voting will seem like a privilege again.

Al Franken means well. Yet his plan will, if anything, decrease participation in the democratic process.

George Bush, on the other hand---keep up the good work, sir!

HollywoodMeanies.com

2005-01-27T13:52:00.000-05:00

Alright, Hollywood, what's going on out there with your fancy-pants wheeling and dealing? I can't BELIEVE Oscar forgot all about that
sad sack with the beard who acts like he was born to suffer.

No, I'm not talking about Paul Giamatti getting dissed for SIDEWAYS-I'm talking PASSION OF THE CHRIST. Do frenzied internet voters mean nothing to you?

Two blogs alone, seethepassion.com and passionforfairness.com got nearly 50,000 folks to sign a petition! 50,000!
And that doesn't even count the ballots they're still trying to add up at Thepassiontotallyrocks.com and JesusdiedsothatIcouldlivetoseethisawesomefilm.com.

Oh..... I get it. I'm not stupid. This is Hollywood, where everyone drives around in the 666 Mercedes and takes Boot Camp Stretch from Lucifer Himself ("Reach for the flames, People! Reach! Reach!").

Well, let me tell you something. Americans Who Care About Decency More Than Artistic Ability is not going to roll over and die so that you can continue to stuff and starve Rene Zellweger on our time and on our dime. No sir.

We're taking our hard-earned dough, and we're rejecting all your Hollywood films. We're going to watch art films! From places like Europe! That's right, you can forget your long lines for Adam Sandler, Chris Rock and all of them. In fact, I'm haulin' ass out of this blog entry right now and going downtown to see "The Sea Inside". It may be Oscar-nominated, but you clowns had nothing to do with it.

THREE HOURS LATER:

Uh. Okay. New plan. Some foreign guy wantin' to die just doesn't cut it, plot-wise, (unless he's our Lord and Savior and it's for our sins and it's made by a god-fearing Catholic like Mel Gibson and it's meant to uplift us and make us furthur commmit to our spiritual path and our church and our proudly diverse and multicultural nation that's still pretty much Christian-based when you come to think of it. Then, I'm good to go).

"The Sea Inside".......
That movie was a bummer. Plus, the concession stand was lame! No, I don't want a latte, thank you very much.

Now, at THE PASSION, you had your fill of torture and misery, but you also had your jumbo-sized popcorn with real butter, Dr. Pepper and some Twizzlers.

You want to see some suffering? Make me watch a movie without my Twizzlers.

The Mennonites Must Be Stopped!

2005-01-24T10:24:00.000-05:00

Well, I don't know what we're going to do about those Mennonites.

No, no, not the Amish--- those other simple-living, peace-loving wackos. You know, those folks with their strange ways of caring about social justice, going about their day with humility and compassion for all people. THOSE freaks.

Apparently a group of these subversives zipped on up to the Inauguration to protest another four years of non-mennonite George Bush.
Now if they'd behaved like other normal, decent protesters-- shouting during the parade, or yelling at ball attendees, "Have fun tonight! People are dying!" --there would have been no problem. But the Mennonites struck hard--and low--at this administration with a devious
tactic I couldn't imagine even the Buddhists trying.

You know what they did? They prayed.

That's right. A gaggle of these crazy peaceniks actually got down on their knees in a group, in a little designated corner, and prayed for our nation, and all nations.

Well, thank goodness the police were there to pepper spray them.

I mean, who knows when one of them might have jumped up and put a daisy in a rifle barrel, or started singing some Peter, Paul and Mary song? There were children nearby, and I shudder to think.....

Anyway, I'm just so proud of our men and women in blue, who stepped in and took bold action before things got too far out of hand.
If we don't pepper spray the Mennonites now, someday we'll have to tear gas the Quakers, and I don't even want to THINK about what would have awaited those Unitarian Universalists.

This triumph of order over chaos was barely mentioned in the media; I learned about Operation Blind the Pacifists from a friend whose college-age niece was there. Apparently, the person next to her got it right in the eyes.

I'm sure it was an upsetting experience, but I just hope these kids learn that our Christian nation won't stand for that disturbing show of spiritual fortitude, self-sacrifice, and love without borders or boundries.

I mean, What Would Jesus Think?

Inaugural Speech, English Translation

2005-01-21T14:07:00.000-05:00

WHAT THE PRESIDENT SAID / WHAT IT MEANS

"There is only one force of history that can break the reign of hated
and resentment, and expose the pretensions of tryants...... ME! ME! I'M THAT FORCE!

"...Making every citizen an agent of his or her own destiny..."
You don't have to be a homo, buddy.

"Our country has accepted obligations that are difficult to fulfill..."
Okay, impossible to fulfill. And I tricked you into accepting them. But work with me here, People.

To young people: "Make the choice to serve in a cause larger than your
wants, larger than yourself."
Sign up for the military--Please?

"the truths of Sinai, the Sermon on the Mount, the words of the Quran..."
The Wiccan Creed, the words of Buddah,
the Dali Lama's damn prophecies...have I covered
all the fruits and nuts? Can I go on now?

"Did your generation advance the cause of freedom, and did our character bring
credit to that cause?"
You people in the special holding pen--Shut up. No one is asking you.

MLK Day Play

2005-01-17T13:04:00.000-05:00

In honor of MLK Day, Liberal Elite Loser would like to join President Bush in pointing out that two of his top advisers are African-American, and how pleased and proud they have been to have had a real voice in this administration.
Or something like that.

Um, maybe not so much like that. Maybe more like this:

Scene: Colin Powell's office, his last day. Condoleeza Rice is meeting with him.

Colin: Okay, so to recap--this is your stapler, the maroon one. Don't even think about borrowing Cheney's, not even for a minute, not even for a quick, "Oh, I just need to staple this memo about Martians attacking us this weekend." None of that. Man is liable to freak out,have another one of his heart attacks. And you know who gets blamed? The black man gets blamed.

Condy: Colin. I'm a woman. And, as you know, I have found this White House to be colorblind. I think President Bush is to be lauded for his strong stance on terrorism and other issues of national and international concern. I'm proud to continue to serve him.

Colin: You've got to be kidding me.

Condy: Nope.

Colin: Not even just a littel?

Condy: No.

Colin: Not even if you knew that I found and dismantled the bugging devices two weeks ago?

Condy: What?

Colin: You heard me. Took me six months to find that last one but I did it!

Condy: All four?

Colin: Yep. The one embedded in the carpet, that was the tricky sucker. Wasn't even the size of Bush's brain. But I found it.

Condy: Colin, I'm so sorry. Not my idea.

Colin: I know. I know how it is. Your ideas haven't been listened to since Stanford.

Condy: Well, I wouldn't go that far.

Colin: The bugs are gone. Remember?

Condy: Okay, okay. But hold on, Brother, what am I supposed to do? They won't let me go!

Colin: They won't LET you?

Condy: I satisfy too many minority quotas. They say if I go, the whole place looks like Skull and Bones. So, they put the word out. Right before the election, people were falling all over themselves to get my name on their letterhead--corporations, institutions. I was finally going to have time to get back to my skating. Then, I call back after the election, and it's, "Oh, I'm sorry, Ms. Rice, but we've already given the position to another former cabinet member" or "I'm sorry Ms. Rice, but we need someone who types faster than 40 words per minute."

Colin: Damn. Now these bastards are gonna blow up half the planet and find a way to put the whole blame on you!

Condy: I know, Colin. But that's just how it is. I've made my peace. The dental plan is incredible.

Colin: Well, alright. Good luck. If you ever need anything--advice, contacts, a safe room...

Condy: Don't worry about me. Mainly I just frown and nod. It's not that taxing. Oh! And I crochet under the table. Made five afghans last year. Anyway, I guess I should get started, maybe by reading this memo, "Martians Slated to Attack the Planet this Weekend". Any idea what that's about?

Colin: Like I said, they never clue me in on anything. But why not leave it 'til Monday? It's time for my farewell party, anyway.

Condy: Oh, I almost forgot! Of course. (Getting her coat) Who's coming?

Colin: Well, there's me. And you. Clarence said he'd stop by...how's Bennigan's for you?.....

I Miss Your Lovin' Arms Program

2005-01-12T20:32:00.000-05:00

WASHINGTON (Jan.12) - Despite strong efforts by law enforcement officials, the Iraqi Survey Group and legions of republicans crossing their fingers, the U.S. has called off the search for Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMDs). "You can only search so many places for WMD" said a defense official, who then added, "I bet they're hangin' out somewhere with Nicole Simpson's killers. Ha! Ha! Ha! Whooo! That's a good one. Ah, you don't need my name there, Buddy."
A grieving Citizens for WMDs held a candlelight vigil in Thompson Square, Iowa after hearing the sad news. Sporting yellow ribbons and signs reading "We Love You, WMDs" and "Never Give Up, Never Surrender", a tiny band of WMD loyalists vowed to continue the search, with or without government funds.
"Dude, this sucks" remarked Carl Flagler, of Flagler's Gas and Feed, "When my grandma was missing we looked a lot longer than this. Course, she had wandered off with the till, that bitch. But still. I mean, this is America! We, like find everybody with dogs and flashlights-- in meadows and shit. Has anybody looked in a meadow?"
Yet most of those assembled seemed to respond to the advice of Charles Duelfer, the CIA special adviser who led the ISG's weapons search, as he addressed the emotional crowd, reassuring them that the U.S. had done all it could to find the stockpile. "We went on Oprah, we did an Amber alert, we talked to psychics. I'm tellin' you, folks, if there was WMDs over there in Iraq or over here in Thompson Square, our people would have found them. Now, I'm afraid we just have to move on with our lives. Find closure. If you find yourself unable to let go, put the articles away that talk about looking for the WMDs. Stop listening to Colin Powell's speech to the U.N. You're only hurting yourself, caught in the past like that. Talk to a pastor. Move on."
The crowd listened intently in the cool night air. Duelfer paused for a moment, before adding, "This is beautiful country you got here. Enjoy it. Enjoy living. The WMDs would have wanted it that way."

Management Tips for the Apocalypse

2005-01-12T13:53:00.000-05:00

In my new book, Leadership Styles of the Rich and Heinous ,I share with my readers the unique management proclivities of some of the finest men and women we've had the good fortune to: elect/get taken over by/get fooled into thinking we've elected/wound up under the thumb of just because they have blonde hair and totally flirted with the Spanish Club Adviser.

Now as one of my nation's 1,887,654 management experts, I'm often asked:
What distinguishes a true leader from somone who is just in charge?

It's really quite simple. A true leader can get your ass fired.

And now, a poem:

When you've got a job to do
that's odious and tough
procrastination tempts you
though it makes life rather rough
for others might detect your lack
of stalwart follow through
expecting from your leadership
someone who has a clue.

It's hard to solve a problem
when you feel so out at sea
so go tackle another one
on which all can agree.
Comb through your great "To Do" list
and find a villian there
some pesky problematic mess
you need out of your hair.

Attack that mess with vigor
make sure all climb aboard
show strength in times of turmoil
much else will be ignored.
Your followers will soon forget
what first concerned them so
quite dazzled by your overwhelming
Old Guard overthrow.

Behold, the top-notch Manager
now leads his team with glee
like pioneers across the plain
like lemmings to the sea...
Ah, switching projects clears the head
regroups the staff, and more
but do forgive a quibble
from a pest, who's now a bore:
it's still a lousy reason
to send kids to die at war.

Support Our Troops Actual Support

2005-01-11T09:11:00.000-05:00

No, I don't have armor, beer or porn to send them--that would be too useful--but I do think I understand why so many of them voted King George back onto the throne.

Listening to interviews with soldiers, you don't hear fierce support for the intricacies of our involvement, just general support for "getting the job done". I think to understand this loyalty to the cause, we have to look at what their cause is....
To recap the horror, the horror:
Their buddies have died. Their life is in constant danger. They see no hope of going home any time soon, or getting to stay home once they return.

These aren't draftees-not yet, anyway. Sure, they were drawn to college money and a way out of whatever life wasn't working for them--but these were folks with an inclination toward valuing military service, not some half-awake teen thrown into the jungle by the luck of the numbers.

Okay, so back to our Fallujah Freedom Fighters. They're trapped there. They're making fierce bonds out of loyalty, they're doing what soldiers do. They're just tryilng to "get the job done"--whatever that requires, whatever makes the President blow the whistle---so they can come home in one piece and not get treated like they didn't do anything worthy.

That's what this election felt like to them. We were too busy focusing on the irony of soldiers in battle voting for a guy who played hooky during Vietnam to get it: They weren't voting for Bush. They were voting for meaning.

Know what I mean?

Aniston, Thy Aim is True

2005-01-09T22:48:00.000-05:00

I went to hear this poet read the other night, and he talked about how he's inspired by the search for true spirituality in a secular world. At least I think that's what he said---it was late, I was tired, and distracted by someone in the third row wearing overalls and a bright red clown wig. In every movie I've ever seen, that sucker leaps up and opens fire, so I was expending most of my energy on locating the emergency exits.

Personally, I'm a little more inspired by celebrity breakups reported breathlessly in celebrity-driven magazine EXCLUSIVES!--but, as William Shakespeare used to nag anyone who would listen, "To Thine Own Self Be-- whatever."

'TIS THE PITTS

Our Warlord king, again he reigns
and hearing, I was sad
Those wicked waves, and thousands died
Sweet Sister, I felt bad
But nothing else can wet my eyes
like hearing of the sad demise
of Jennifer and Brad.

That golden pair gave hope to all
that perfect love did live
O Winsome Girl!
O Handsome Boy!
Our Rachel finding her own Troy
and somehow, days now feel like nights
My heart 'tis iron-clad
a blooming rose, shut down with news
of Jennifer and Brad.

This mortal journey, how it mocks
the dreams of those
with peasant stock, whose lives
revolve around the Chosen-
where is there a cure?
Your cruel will
turns the sun to rain, your cold decree
turns pride to pain
"Is all not lost?" the PEOPLE cry
We are not what we were....

Yet be they two or be they one
for us, they still remain the sun
for still they shine, and still we pine
for anything that they might say
of anything they must endure
O Brad! O Jennifer!

Support Our Troops Quiz

2005-01-07T08:43:00.000-05:00

After passing not one, not two, but three "Support Our Troops" bumper stickers in a two-block period this morning, it has come to my attention that many of you may be confused about the true meaning of the "Suport Our Troops" bandwagon.
I could just tell you flat out, being The Keeper of All Knowledge, but why not sharpen your dull brains with a little quiz?

1. A "Support Our Troops" Bumper sticker implies that you:

a. are a republican
b. voted for President Bush
c. support President Bush
d. hate President Bush but don't want to look like an unfeeling creep

2. Not having a "Support Our Troops" bumper sticker implies that you:

a. are a democrat or Kucinich/Vegan/Commie
b. Voted for Kerry or maybe even Sharpton
c. hate President Bush
d. are an unfeeling creep

3. The best way to Support Our Troops is to:

a. Send them Tom Clancy Books through the internet
b. Beat up guys who look like they resemble types depicted in quiz question #2
c. Put a "Support Our Troops" bumper sticker on your Escalade
d. Bring their asses home

4. If you selected "d." from number #3 above, you are:

a. gay, lesbian or questioning
b. if you don't like it here, go live somewhere else
c. unrealistic, folkie Quaker loser (and what are you doing, saying "asses" ?)
d. Kindergarten Baby, born in the Gravy

Answers: answers? there are no answers in this life, honey. Now go wash up for supper.

Busch for Bush

2005-01-06T08:52:00.000-05:00

It occurred to me this morning whilst performing the Daily Ablutions that there's a simple solution to our presidential woes.
In short: Let's get the president hammered.

Now I'm the last person to poke fun at those in recovery, surrounded as I am by brave friends and family who have undergone just such torture in the name of personal survival and avoiding One More Undignified Puke on the stairwell. But there's also such a thing, the brilliant folks of AA inform us, as a Dry Drunk--that is, a person who exhibits all the mannerisms and behaviors of an alcoholic w/out actually imbibing in the sauce.

Is that not a perfect description of our Fearless Leader? The repression of Georges's inner Bad Frat Boy has led us to war, debt, international disgrace and fantastic homosexual teachers being replaced by born-again robots informing our children that our species began when Frodo and the Wizard of Oz comingled their Magic Sticks.

So here's the plan: most of the big beer companies are somewhere to the right of Atila the Hun---I think, for instance, that Coors is pushing for a constitutional amendment to put all Planned Parenthood supporters on The Rack---but we could find a small, liberal bottler of some brand of crappy Near Beer (that would be pretty much all the brands of Near Beer) and we get them to send His Royal Hard-Headedness a few cases of the stuff as a belated Christmas present---only, of course, we switch out the Near for the Beer.

Here is Liberal Elite Loser's promise to you, the consumer: we get a looser (in a good way), calmer, genuinely optimistic guy, a leader who suddenly is relaxed enough to listen to others, play fair and even----gasp!---have a few moments of reflection.

Don't get me wrong. The rest of you 12 steppers, keep stepping. But you're not running the friggin' country, are you? I don't have the stats to back this up, but I'm presuming our best presidents took a swig of the fire water now and again.

So: Liberal bottlers of fake beer: You Know Who You Are. You Know What To Do. At this point, we have nothing to lose but clean White House carpets. Do your part to save America! Whoo-hoo!

Colin Powell, World's Strongest Man

2005-01-05T10:42:00.000-05:00

No, it doesn't take a Tsunami for me to say nice things about republicans (for instance, my father-in-law is a pretty great guy).
But, okay, it took a Tsunami for me to like Colin Powell again. Remember the Colin boomerang? We thought he was odd and stern, then kind of heroic and likable, then back to being a colossal dissapointment.

This morning, though, he was talkiing to me (and maybe a few million other Americans) in my kitchen about what he saw from the chopper over Indonesia, in a tone so gentle and careful you might have thought we were lovers. He sounded about as shaken as anyone would sound, with this thoughtful image: "I cannot begin to imagine the horror that went through the families and all of the people who heard this noise coming and then had their lives snuffed out by this wave..."

It struck me so that I stopped pouring my coffee and stared outside at the leaf-strewn backyard, with it's four-story pines that threaten to topple over when the strong southern storms kick up.

Life is fragile, and mankind damn well better be humbled and awed by it, and Colin Powell sounded like a man watching those trees come tumblin' down. He was clearly unable to quite wrap his mind around this one, simply willing to share with us his personal sense of devastation. I just liked him so much, right then and there, for giving us that gift. He wasn't using hushed tones, he wasn't using the language of political manipulation. He wasn't using anything, so I felt moved instead of used myself.

Now columnist David Brooks admonishes democrats not to use this disaster to "score political points". Okay, okay, points he'll like: I like that we're giving a lot more money, I like the idea of George Sr. and "I Feel Your Pain" Bill on the case. Those were good moves.

But I can't help but feel that that's all that George Jr. has inside him--moves. I wasn't standing next to him in the rubble of 9/11, and maybe he sounded like Colin Powell that day, and maybe, for just one minute, I could have liked him too. Yet he strikes me as a man who is afraid to get that close to his raw emotions. At least in front of us. It strikes me that such honest, genuine confusion and sorrow looks like weakness to him.

Maybe half of us agree with him. The other half would like to see him fly over Indonesia or attend a funeral of a 20 year-old soldier, and water up without a tiny voice in his head saying, "Okay, George, the cameras are rolling. Water up now."

Sorry David, broke my promise. With the world come tumblin' down, all I got to comfort me is points.

Hot! Not! Complete Rot!

2005-01-04T11:54:00.000-05:00

This is the time of year for moronic lists, and why should Liberal Elite Loser not join the other media whores in this poor excuse for journalism?

Lists-they're hot! Ignoring them--it's not!

Yes, shoving aside the really helpful lists of movies to see (Sideways, Frontways, All the Ways), CD's to swipe (Franz Ferdinand, Arcade Fire, Elliot Smith) and books to read (Mine, and uh, anything else out there that's actually good), we have the What's Hot/What's Not lists
filling up space that could be better used to review things like books (Mine, and uh, well you know).

So. Looking back at the year that was.....

WHAT'S HOT/ WHAT'S NOT

Voting/ Voting Correctly

The Red Sox /The Red Sox, Ever Again

Insurgency/ Peace

Paris Hilton/ The Shri Lanka Hilton

Radical Cosmetic Surgery/ Self-Acceptance

Google /Getting Caught Googling Yourself

Talking about the Environment/ Saving the Environment

Desparate Housewives /Actual Housewives

Early Adaptor Blogs/ Blogs like this one

Too Often in Column B? Better luck next year, Bunky!
Anyone else got an offering? Cough up, out there. We all want to be as hot--or as not--as we can....

George Bush's New Year's Resolutions

2005-01-03T10:51:00.000-05:00

My spies at the White House stumbled upon this list sitting on George's desk in the oval office, and---

Okay. That's a lie. My spies at the White House found this next to the president's potty. They KNOW they're not supposed to go in there,the danger of being caught and forced to hide in the shower while he slathers on deodorant while singing "Red-neck Woman" being too great-- but that's the kind of loyalty I inspire in my staff. Can I just brag for a minute? They're super, the best.

Now then:

New Year's Resolutions

1. Low-carb BBQ diet for that last stubborn ten pounds.

2. Send worn out jackets to those poor people in Suname.

3. Less insurgency in Suname? If so, switch invasion to over there.

4. Improve U.S. Forest Service image; get that Paris Hilton to pose in sexy "Drill This!" campaign.

5. Create our own, American, United Nations; placate critics with fun, new "retro" logo.

6. Get Israel Rapture Ready! Stock with Jews, bottled water, flat-screened TVs.

7. Read some damn book or other so L. will finally shut up about it.

8. Suggest Ann Coulter start wearing camoflage micro minis to support the troops.

9. Learn this new Barakobama dance craze that's sweeping the nation.

10. Blond highlights? Youthifying, or too gay?

Pick a Little, Peck a Little

2005-01-02T17:47:00.000-05:00

Due to circumstances not even remotely beyond my control (it just appears that way, in my nightmares) I am currently horrifically far behind on a writing project about the golden starlets of the golden starlet era for a golden-starlet oriented media conglomerate. Or some such.

Actually, I'm not that far behind anymore, having worked right through Jesus's birthday like it was nothing (he's a Jew, I'm a Jew, we have an understanding there) and it's actually quite fun reading about all the juicy tidbits I won't be putting in this glossy marketing number. Put it this way: I begged my bossette to title the thing SkanksWho Look Good On Camera but she likes her job and was having none of it. Suffice it to say, Iwon't be officially writing about most surprising (to me) skank: (Grace Kelly), Star who had smoke coming out from under her bed for effect: (Dietrich), most dysfunctional marriage :(all of 'em, except when one partner died young or married a boring, supportive non-actor).

I'm currently engrossed in the legacy of Mary Pickford, silent screen superstar, America's Sweetheart, not so much interesting for skankiness (you're welcome,Mary) as for the unbelievable over-the-top adoration she received from fans and the press. It honestly sounds like if the aforementioned Mr. Christ rose up again and wanted some press time he'd have to wait in line behind the Girl With The Curls. I particularly like one gushing fanzine of the day (the day being 1918) where a rapturous, no-doubt drug-induced paen to Mary (I mean, wasn't cocaine legal then, prescribed for toothaches?) ended with an appraisal of the type of individual who might, God help him, NOT LIKE MARY PICKFORD.

I know, I know, it's inconceivable. But conceive of these things we must, so that they never happen again.

Anyway, after going on and on about Mary being a "fairy", "not of this world", someone who whispers to us "of a place where perchance butter and eggs are within reason, where folks never have toothaches"(note: heh, heh, I think we know why), "Mary Pickford, sweetheart, is the sweetheart of America"...on and on like this, until finally, it's time to address the freaks who might not agree. In short, (because I sense you're getting a toothache) the writer describes such an individual as being the sort of "highbrow" person who might "steal, plague the cat, and gossip about the dead."

Wow. Pickford seems pretty cool to me, actually, but that other stuff fits me to a "t". Well, maybe not highbrow. Lotta brow--good thing they invented tweezers.

Anyway, I persist in appreciating Mary Pickford despite the fact that I match the lowly profile of a Pickford PlayerHater, but I just thank my lucky stars that the media no longer babbles on in a sycophantic manner about people just because they look pretty and make films.
Phew! Aren't we living in a golden era?

Code Brown

2005-01-02T02:47:00.000-05:00

This holiday season I got my usual half ton of gifts from my Family by Marriage, and I noticed an unusual trend. To wit: all my gifts were brown. Brown cannisters of cocoa, a brown purse, and a stack of brown clothing as high as an Elephant's eye. (Okay, so that's a phrase from Oklahoma! and I was in Illinois. Close enough).

Now, I'm not normally one to look gift acrylic in the mouth, but this much brown was too weird not to contemplate, even hungover with Muzak carols playing in the background. So I consulted my inner therapist (a fellow who looks like Jude Law in tweed and touches my arm a lot in session). He told me that my Loser Elite Liberal status was giving me a Brown Aura that my republican in-laws were picking up on.

Hmmmm......

Makes sense. I haven't exactly been feeling pink and lavender this fall, what with the collapse of our nation, the horrific natural disaster that
hit much of the rest of the world, and Dick Clark's tragic inability to lead us through the Rockin' New Year's Eve Times Square Freeze-a-Thon.

Nonetheless, brown too close to my face makes me look like a cloistered nun with anemia. I need reds to perk up that mug of mine, even creamy white. So it's back to the mall with that mountain of sorrow (terrible voters, those relatives, but they leave on tags AND give receipts, God love 'em), and in exchange I'll pick up some tops that keep small children from screaming, "Mommy! Will that zombie lady rip off my arm and eat it?"

Only if Mommy used HER arm to pull the lever for Mr. Bush, Honey. Otherwise, you're in the pink.

So Tsunami

2005-01-01T11:46:00.000-05:00

It took a tidalwave washing over babies and backpackers to humble me, but I'm humbled. Okay, George, there's something far worse than your Reign of Error. It doesn't mean I don't get to smirk that your first response was to simply dig under the White House couches for loose change to send to Thailand but you did cough up when razzed by the left (it's like we're your proctologists or something).
15 to 35 to 350 million is an impressive regroup. I particularly liked the 35 to 350 leap--did Colin Powell say "we forgot to add a zero", or is that just in my fevered imagination?

At any rate, I used act locally rather than globally, but the locals are thrilled that I left them alone for a day and coughed up myself for this unbelievable catastrophe. Moveon.mypersonalgods recommended Oxfam so Oxfam it was, and I hope my small contibution does--I don't know--something. Still confused by Save the Children's criticism of grieving parents taking in whatever orphans they happen upon, saying it will be damaging to the "grieving process". Isn't taking care of someone other than yourself how people used to deal with grief, before we invented the wonderful solution of dwelling on your misery through books, therapy and talk shows? No, no, let's give the orphans to "agencies", leave the parents empty-handed until we've all done the Kubler-Ross cha-cha.....

Oh yeah, back to being humbled. I will attempt, in 2005,to compare any annoyance in my life to the challenge of having my village and all those I love washed away in a tsunami, leaving me exposed to uncovered landmines, disease, and floods of photojournalists. If it's not that bad, then fuck it.

God is the New Black

2004-12-17T07:10:00.000-05:00

On the front page of the paper yesterday ran the article "Stores are Hoping to Do Well by Urging Shoppers to do Good", all about the various charitable items stores are selling to lure in shoppers in an iffy economic climate. Of course, all this marketing manipulation is wrapped in religous explanation because, as you trendsetters out there know, God is the New Black.

"This is the born-again Christmas" explains some dick-like retail analyst, who then lamely amends his comment with,"...and while this is not a religious thing, per se.....it does have echoes of the heartland."

Huh?

Giving coats to freezing homeless people and fighting cancer has echoes of the heartland? Funny, I sort of thought we're all chipping in on those ones. So what right-wing, Midwest-based paper was frothing at the mouth to quote this idiot in paragraph four?

Oooops. It's the, ah, New York Times.

Bush says "bend over" and even Sulzbergers say, "How far?"

Only one question remains:

Is it too early in the morning for some of that Christmas Gift Hooch?

John Kerry, Remember My Name

2004-12-16T18:43:00.000-05:00

So in a fit of "I've got to do something!" after 11/2, I counted up 55.9 million people who joined me in the Liberal Elite Loser Dance-a-Thon and Toy Drive, found a punk printing press in Portland to whip me up some "55.9" buttons and became, as my long-suffering spouse put it, the Johnny Appleseed of the Left.

I gotta say, it's got a ring.

Anyway my pal down the street is on Maalox-swigging terms with John Kerry and told him about my button brigade.
Kerry's response? Something affirmative, no doubt, and then, "but I'm up to 57 million!"

And so he is, by now, isn't he? Alas, Bush is up as well.

Nonetheless, I proudly stand by my buttons, because I've always said, passing them out to startled strangers with Kerry bumpers, "at LEAST 55.9 million."

Dude has the right to quibble with me--we didn't quibble enough in 2000 and look what that started.

Now go out and make some buttons of your own, will ya? NIDDY RULES is not yet, I believe, taken.....

Jenna Goes Down

2004-12-16T09:12:00.000-05:00

When I read this morning that Jenna Bush has a new job I assumed Daddy threw her in the cabinet, Minister of Partying or some such, so you can imagine my dissapointment when I discovered that she plans to teach inner city school children.

Well, good for her, but imagine the dissapointment of the children when Ms. Bush leaves teaching. I mean, I could be wrong, but a pampered, famous, rich white girl is ill-equipped to take on a rowdy bunch of kids from ANY neighborhood, and what are her incentives for slogging it out until she finally can control a classsroom and teach? Money? Laughable.Losing the respect of her parents?
If she bails out of this and five more ventures in the next year, she'll be a chip off the old blockhead.

Listen, I admire her choice and I wish her well. I just can't help but anticipate the Katie Couric Exit Interview:

KATIE: So, you're leaving teaching.

JENNA: Yes, Ma'am.

KATIE: Why? I heard the children loved you.

JENNA: Oh, and I loved them. I was blessed to teach a beautiful group of children for six wonderful weeks. It's just that I have some other things I'd like to do with my life, while I'm still young.

KATIE: Like stay alive? I heard that you were pretty freaked out when a bullet hit the window during an art lesson.

JENNA: Oh no, not at all. It's much more upsetting for the children, who have to live with this degree of violence every day. That's why I'm leaving to start the Jenna Bush Foundation. Daddy found me some awesome office space right near the capitol.

KATIE: And what will the Jenna Bush Foundation do?

JENNA: We'll improve the lives of young people, Katie. That's our goal. You should see the awesome staff I have! Everyone is so dedicated.

KATIE: How will you improve the lives of young people?

JENNA: We're looking into that. It's going to take a long time. Working long hours. It's hard work. But first me and Barb are meeting up in New York for some serious shopping. I need suits for this! I wonder if Reese Witherspoon will send me the fab stuff she wore on Legally Blonde 2? I'm all about "look professional, but don't neglect the booty". Whoo-hoo!

Scott Peterson, Apparently Not a Nice Man

2004-12-15T09:32:00.000-05:00

In case you've been busy following the real news, you probably just got recently reintroduced to that whole Scott Peterson ickiness (you remember: nice, clean-cut boy who killed his very pregnant wife and shoved her body into the ocean a couple of Christmases ago, secret trashy girlfriend, mysterious death at his old college, hmmm..) by hearing that a disgruntled jury of his peers voted to fry him.

Now: whether or not you're for the death penalty---well, I don't give a crap about that. Far more interesting was the amount of moronic talk radio the next morning, people all over the country calling in their radio stations to talk about WHAT A BAD GUY SCOTT PETERSON IS.
Apparently, 10 out of 10 Americans agree that killing your very pregnant wife and shoving her body into the Pacific Ocean is not too cool.
At last! An issue to unite the two Americas!

So I stumble upon one such aural gathering of the nation's intelligensia and I'm trying in vain to figure out why people are moved to call into their favorite DJs to state the Beyond Obvious when it hits me. As one caller puts it, "I have a beautiful wife and two great kids, and as much as my wife gets on my nerves---". I didn't hear anything after that, so struck by the truth that I had to ice my head.

In short: People are jealous! "Sure, we'd LOVE to see our loved ones swim with the fishies too, but we restrain ourselves. Damn that Peterson!"

Everything is so much clearer now. The popularity of DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES and THE SOPRANOS. Global Warming.

Remember that guy last year that killed his wife and threw out the mattress? TOO many people wanted to know what kind of mattress he used. America may be a sick puzzle, but at least, if you work long and hard enough, the pieces eventually fit.

So You Want to Be....

2004-12-13T22:29:00.001-05:00

So You Want to Be....The Director of Homeland Security

Well, who can blame you? Sure the hours are long and the stress is unimaginable, but if you somehow manage to keep most of us from getting blown up, the school history books will show for all time that you were a contributor to the well-being of your nation.Well, at least for a few years, until they're re-written and your paragraph is excised to make more room for Karl Rove: Beloved Architect of World War Three.

Director of Homeland Security--How do I know it's right for me?
Ask yourself a few simple questions:

1. Do you have eyes in the back of your head?

2. Can you hear insurgent chatter now? How about now? Now? Good.

3. Anyone can wear orange and yellow---you just have to find the most flattering shade for your skin tone.
What are the right shades for America?

4. Without strong values, we open the door to terrorism. "Without strong values" is, of course, code for Boy on Boy Love.
The only gay sex that can safely take place within our borders is between:
a. Gay men within the confines of a loving and legal relationship
b. Straight men forced into sexual acts in military prison
c. Really obliquely implied sex on Will and Grace

5. The key to protecting our nation is:
a. Under a fake rock by the Azalea bush--and let the dog out twice a day
b. Loving our neighbors as we love ourselves
c. Loving that Mischa chick on The OC--she's eighteen, right?

GOOD LUCK!

Office Party Fun

2004-12-13T07:11:00.000-05:00

News item: The Liberal Elite Losers are embarking on a lawsuit challenging Bush's win in Ohio this week.. Kick-off events include barbecues in blue states around the country (kids welcome!) and touch football games against the folks who brought a lawsuit challenging Bush's win in Florida last time. With Springsteen playing on a coast-to-coast hookup and the Blue Man Group leading three-legged races it's bound to be a blast. Be sure to try the ribs!

Speaking of partying: Liberal Elite Loser had our office Christmas party last night and, boy, did it ROCK! The buffet board was groaning with Honey-Baked Ham, three kinds of salads, Kim's awesome shrimp dip and more cookies than you could shake a diet book at! We sang carols, compared shopping horrors and made angels out of styrofoam and aluminum foil (you don't have to be that crafty to make a darling angel for the top of your tree! It's easy!). The only minor fly in the ointment was Maury from accounting, who wore some kind of
weirdly constructed thing on his head, I think it was a menorah (Maury is not crafty) and kept muttering darkly, "I'm representin'."

I finally had to take him aside. "Maury" I said firmly. "Listen. Plenty of us here at Liberal Elite Loser are Jewish, we've got two atheists, and that guy down in the mail room, we're afraid to ask WHAT he is. That's not the point. The point is that when you live in a country where
recently pretty much all of a 100 million dollars for faith-based programs went to Christian groups, you got to follow the money."

Maury was not buying. "But those are non-profits" he countered. "We're a blog, not a non-profit agency."

I looked around at the makeshift cubicles, stained carpet and liquidation furniture. If we're not a non-profit, I don't know what is...I tried another tack.

"Maury" I said, "C'mon. Lighten up. Don't be such a Scrooge. It's Christmas!"

That didn't work either. Some people are just so stuck on their issues, have you noticed.? Anyway, I finally put on some Black Eyed Peas and Maury checked his intellect-a-lect at the door and shook his little jingle bells and we all had a great time.

So Merry Christmas to you and yours and greetings especially to the angels at the Office of Faith-Based and Community Initiatives. Drop by some time! Please?

Naked College Girls!

2004-12-10T08:11:00.000-05:00

Forgive the title, please: it's Sweeps Week here at Liberal Elite Loser and we do what have to do to compete with the other networks. It actually does fit in with Item Nubmer #2, she said pathetically.......

ITEM NUMBER #1: In the And You Thought You Were an Angry, Bitter Liberal, dept: I was at a dinner party last night where the talk turned to politics--as it always does with my friends because we find group masochism very sexy--and two of my buddies brought up the recent Ramming of Rummy by freaked-out soldiers wanting to know why they were still fighting the war in Iraq with sling shots and Rock Em' Sock Em' robots. I would think that anyone would be on the side of these poor kids, many of whom joined the military in some kind of post 9/11 "I've Got To Do Something About This" Panic (remember that panic? Didn't you rush out and stick a flag on your porch, or send money to the various funds for orphans, or go out and buy a lot of shoes?) but my pals were not in such an empathic mood. "They voted for Bush, they can live with what they're getting!" was the angry, adamant concensus, while I sat sort of stunned. I mean, I don't think my pals want these kids blown up or anything, coming home looking like a Picasso painting--they're good guys and all. It just showed me how divided this country still is, when I was so sure we were all healing, the red and blue states merging into one big giant purple state shaped like a dinosaur: "I love you, You love me, We're the coolest damn country".....but then, I've been wrong before.

ITEM NUMBER #2: In the People who don't want body armor dept.: My sources at CNN (the, uh, same sources you have at CNN)
informed me yesterday of a big brou-ha-ha up at Bennington University in Vermont. Bennington, as you may recall, is just about the most expensive liberal arts college in the country, but the issue is not kids thinking a wardrobe allowance should be built into that steep tuition. No, apparently there's a sort of informal "go naked" policy at the school--you can sunbathe naked, and there's a few designated naked events each year--but the new dean of students put the kabosh on the deal after prospective families were treated to the sight of a naked young man strolling by during their tour. Now there are a number of ways to look at this situation (no, not the naked people, there's only one way to look at them) but I would like to offer the grieving Bennies one comforting thought: this new draconian policy probably covers the faculty too. Think about it, kids. Most of your profs are aging or ex hippies and it really would have been only a matter of time before your buccolic New England campus would be filled with the sounds of pleading undergrads: "Dude, please. Put the dockers back on. I can take three hours of your meandering thoughts on Trotsky, but I can't take this..."

Liberal Beans

2004-12-09T08:17:00.000-05:00

It used to be, you could spot a Liberal Elite Loser from twenty paces. Cotton-wearing, NPR listening, NY Times reading, small, private, expensive college attending people wore the Liberal Elite Loser look like a forcefield, keeping Coulters and other criminals at bay. Now, however, in the Brave New World, this Orwellian Nightmare of Bush Redux, it's a slightly more open field. The right is so far right that to be a Liberal Elite Loser you need to have merely gone to college and voted for Kerry. Scratch "gone to college". You need to have merely read a few books and voted for Kerry. Scratch "read a few books." You need to have voted for Kerry, (or meant to, only you had a hella presentation to give at eight o'clock the next morning.)

In a world where red states are signing into law the beheading of homosexuals and Darwin is being tried for war crimes, it doesn't take much to join the LEL club. The problem is, we need a pretty big clubhouse. 55.9 million Liberal Elite Losers can't all meet at the same coffee shop to moan about the election and plan our vegetarian potluck revenge. But how to split the group up into workable subsections?

Fortunately the good people of Starbuck's (a Division of Global Crackhead Domination, Inc.) have offered up a new coffee menu board specifically to help their liberal customers. Using this handy guide, you can now determine your Liberal Elite Loser subgroup and pick which of the 459 Starbuck's within a five mile radius your group should use for Misery Central. Here's just a few of the suggested coffee connections to get you started. For more information, go into any of the Starbuck's locations on your street--and be sure to try the Pumpkin Spice Latte!

Vanilla Lattes --Love the wearable art liberal

Serena Organic Blend --Coffee as a Prozac chaser liberal

Caffee Americano --So I have a flag sticker? So What? Liberal

Komodo Dragon Blend-- Japanese Anime Liberal

Ethiopia Yergacheffe --Former Peace Corps Liberal

French Roast --Union Liberal

Soy, Fair Trade --Bush should totally do Hot Yoga Liberal

Caramel Mocha--My High School is a Freak Show Liberal

Brazil Ipanema Bourbon Coffee--Still hungover from the Michael Moore MeetUp Liberal

Decaf --Second Cup Concert Liberal

Caramel Macchiato-- Liberal who likes to say the word "macchiato"

THERE YOU HAVE IT. NOW GET OUT THERE AND GET MOBILIZED! THE REVOLUTION STARTS THE MINUTE WE'VE HAD OUR COFFEE, AND THE REPUBLICANS ARE ALREADY AHEAD FOR 'O8. BETTER ORDER A VENTI, DUDES.......

Still Angry After All These Weeks

2004-12-08T21:46:00.000-05:00

Tonight on the phone my really nice, caring, supportive, votes-like-I-do father asked me if I was "over the election."

"NO!" I shouted like a crazy person. And I'm not. Are you? Should you be a liberal elite loser as well, here are the two reactions you are allowed to have:

1) Pure anger, terror, fear all rolled up in your gut as though you visited a sushi bar in South Dakota because you just "had to give it a try", or

2) Hangdog resignation, Eyore to the Extreme. You lower your normal voice to an octave that only underwater sea creatures can hear, you
sort of moan, say things like, "We'll see what happens."

Oh, we'll see what happens alright. Why, just today, Donald Rumsfield whined to the boys and girls in camoflague, "You go to war with what you've got."

In our case, we've got some whiffle balls filled with dried snot and a few dog leashes no longer needed at the prison. Make it work, people!