As I read an article today about how George Bush won’t speak at the British Parliament because he’s afraid of hecklers, I got mad. As I was reading it, I had to keep reminding myself, “don’t post this to your blog, don’t post this to your blog.”
I’ve recently come to the conclusion that posting political rants on your blog, while allowing a healthy release of pent up emotion, really do no good in the grand scheme of things. They also make you look like a whining baby.
If you’re so mad, why don’t you do something about it? Posting the idea that “Bush sucks” on your blog does about as much good as paying a skywriter to post your message above a major metropolitan area. Sure, it might potentially be seen by a large group of people, but ultimately who cares. They’ll probably look up at your message and say either, “Huh, yeah, Bush does suck” or “That asshole! Bush doesn’t suck! He’s great!”
So what? What does that accomplish? Certainly a lot less than if you took your sorry ass down to the local campaign office of a presidential candidate and offered to help, or started a letter writing campaign, or basically any-fucking-thing else.
Now, I know that technically I’m writing about Bush right now. But, I don’t plan on doing it very often in the future. Sure, I might get really riled up again soon. But when that time comes, I’m going to seriously consider actually doing something about it instead of posting to my silly little blog.
So, as a parting shot, I offer these lyrics from the Camper Van Beethoven song, Sweethearts. It was originally written about Ronald Reagan but could just as easily be about George W. Bush. Fuck you, George.
Sweethearts
Camper Van Beethoven
’cause he’s always living back in dixon
Circa 1949
And we’re all sitting at the fountain, at the five and dime
’cause he’s living in some b-movie
The lines they are so clearly drawn
In black and white life is so easy
And we’re all coming along on this one
’cause he’s on a secret mission
Headquarters just radioed in
He left his baby at the dancehall
While the band plays on some sweet song
And on a mission over china
The lady opens up her arms
The flowers bloom where you haved placed them
And the lady smiles, just like mom
Angels wings are icing over
McDonnell Douglas olive drab
They bear the names of our sweethearts
And the captain smiles, as we crash
’cause in the mind of Ronald Reagan
Wheels they turn and gears they grind
Buildings collapse in slow motion
And trains collide, everything is fine
Everything is fine
Everything is fine