Mister Comedy

I would have posted sooner, but I’ve been busy preparing for an appearance in front of Congress. See, I was under the impression that the country was running out of money, but apparently you just have to ask for it. Granted, the auto bailout didn’t pass the senate, but it looks like they’ll just take fourteen billion out of the seven hundred billion that was already approved to bailout Wall Street. All this will, of course, be overseen by someone they’re calling the ‘car czar,’ an unfortunate term–what with all the criticism of Obama’s supposedly ’socialist’ leanings.

We really can’t let the auto industry collapse. If that happened, Detroit would become an empty desolate wasteland–oh wait…that’s what it is now. Anyway, I figure while they’re handing out money, I should get in line. It oughta be an easy pitch, since all I really need is five, six hundred bucks. And since the auto execs got some flack for taking private jets to D.C., I would even be willing to take Greyhound.

Here in the Land of Lincoln, we know money is always the answer. I’m not surprised that our governer was willing to sell Obama’s senate seat. I am a little surprised he couldn’t close the deal. Blagojevich’s problem (which sounds like the name of some arcane mathematical excercise–I think we had to solve that in calculus class) was that he was all over the map as far as what he wanted. According to the tapes, he wanted a Cabinet post, then he’s asking about running the Red Cross, or maybe a high-ranking union job–I mean, decide what the seat’s worth, for bleep’s sake. And just pick one buyer, instead of dealing with five. C’mon, this is basic sales technique. Keep it simple.

The fact that the transcripts even exist is amazing. If your administration is the subject of a months-long federal investigation, it’s pretty likely your phone will be tapped. Might want to discuss violating the state constitution somewhere other than your own house…go to a corner bar–there’s a few of them in Chicago. And the swearing cracks me up, because it reads like he’s auditioning for a stage version of ‘Scarface.’

Norm Coleman probably wishes he could just buy the Minnesota senate seat, but unfortunately, the good folks in Minnesota are actually trying to count all the votes that were cast. Having lived in Minnesota, this is the time of year when you’re stuck indoors anyway, so you might as well take that time to count votes. Have each precinct captain make a hot dish, mull some cider and get it right. Not much else to do in Brainerd or Round Lake in December–it’s that or scrapbooking. I really hope Franken wins, simply because he would become the first elected official in history to admit to having dropped acid.

Speaking of winter, I’m looking out my window as I write this, and it’s quite lovely–if I didn’t have to actually WALK OUTSIDE. But take it from a guy with a limp and a cane–one person’s glistening city sidewalk is another person’s treacherous path to the bus stop. Winter wonderland my ass–as far as I’m concerned, it’s just a lot of places where I can slip and crack my skull on the curb. Hope you’re all having a good holiday!

I used to love Larry King’s column. He would simply string together a handful of not-very-risky opinions (usually, but not exclusively, about celebrities), introduced by some regular guy phrase like “for my money” or “if you ask me”–add some ellipses, and you’ve got a column.

For my money, you couldn’t ask for a nicer guy than Paul Newman…if you ask me, that Cristina Aguilera can really move…if you put a gun to my head, I’d have to to call cappellini my favorite noodle–not for nothing, but I love how it’s thicker than angel hair and not as thick as spaghetti…

Since I don’t really have anything that would warrant five or six hundred words, I’m gonna take a page out of Larry’s book–just a few random rants–a snarky sampler if you will.

So I’m standing in front of Davenport’s, where I’m doing my solo show “I’m A Freakin’ Mess” this Sunday, and I’m in front of one of the posters for my show. A man walks out of the club, does a double-take, and says to me ‘You’re the freakin’ mess guy!” The tragic part is that for half a second I wasn’t sure if he was referencing the title of my show or just passing judgement on my emotional stability…

Usually I have pretty accurate gaydar, but occasionally I misread things. A few nights ago, I struck up a lovely conversation with a guy I assumed was gay. When a friend of mine who knew him said he was, in fact, straight, I realized I had assumed which team he played for based on the fact that he he was well-spoken and polite. You just so rarely see a straight guy with impeccable manners. Sad…

A friend of mine told me that, as far as finding that special someone, he’s waiting for a lightning bolt. Me, I’d settle for static electricity. Just let me walk in socks on your deep pile shag, baby…

I don’t exactly run with a gang (there are three of us who ride to open mics together, but I don’t think that counts), but I thought I understood tagging. I thought that whatever was ‘tagged’ was claimed as the ‘turf’ of whoever did the tagging. So why was the little coffeehouse near me tagged? Is there a particularly literate gang out there, trying to lock up all the good spots in the poetry jam? Are there rogue members of the Latin Kings trying to get their acoustic folk on? Has there been a sudden upswing in muffin trafficking (“Yo yo yo–check this out–that’s right, that’s cranberry walnut, homeboy–you can have the first one free”)?…

True confessions time. I’m Jewish and I love Christmas. I’m sure this is because I converted  to Judaism–I was raised Christian…Well, nominally. My mother was an Episcopalian who hadbn’t been to church in so long she was afraid if she went the church would collapse on her, and my dad was a Catholic who stopped attending Mass when the church stopped speaking Latin.  Anyway, I have made peace with ‘celebrating’ Christmas–I figure, we take a day off for Abe Lincoln, and Jesus probably ranks even higher than Lincoln on the list of “People Who Did A Lot Of Good Things But Were Killed.”

But the real reason I dig Christmas is the music. Now, traditional Jewish music is beautiful–don’t get me wrong. But it’s just not as joyful as your classic Christmas tunes. It’s all minor keys, and ‘people tried to kill us and we survived.’ (Now I realize if I joke at all about Judaism, I risk being compared to the dentist in that ‘Seinfeld” episode, the guy who only converted so he could get away with making Jewish jokes). One of my favorite Christmas songs is ‘The Christmas Song,’, known to most people as ‘chestnuts roasting…’. But how cocky was the writer of that song–Mel Torme? Literally thousands of Christmas songs had been written by  that time, but he calls his ‘The Christmas Song.’ …

Everyone has their emotional touchstones with the holidays, and for me, I know it’s the holiday season by the ads I see on tv. If Santa is skiing on an electric razor, it’s that time. More importantly, if I can buy a Chia-Pet, it’s definitely that time.  Because there’s nothing that says ‘the son of God is born’ like a pig covered in shrubbery. Happy Holidays!

Been hibernating a lot this week. I tend to plan my brooding–it’s not an organic thing that just comes over me. For instance, I normally buy one pack of cigarettes at a time, never a carton, because after all, if I buy a carton of cigarettes, then I would have to call myself a smoker, and I like to live in the delusion that any given pack might be my last. But a few days ago I bought three packs, because I intended to brood.

I’ve always romanticized tortured artists. The notion of abusing oneself as a path to brilliant creative work really grabbed me, as I imagined myself scrawling bits of genius on the back of an envelope or a napkin while surrounded by overflowing ashtrays and empty bottles while listening to Billie Holiday, or Karen Carpenter. Unfortunately, I don’t quite have the hang of it. First, I’m too anal-retentive to let that kind of righteous squalor accumulate. Also, I can only write at the computer–when I do scrawl notes, my penmanship is so godawful and the notes are so sparse that within an hour they become indecipherable to me (what did I mean by ‘elephant religion’?–I think that says ‘elephant’). And lastly, when I’m in hibernation mode, I just…tend to not feel like writing. I find that being in a funk takes up most of my time. So basically I become Charles Bukowski, but without the literary part, sitting in a very tidy apartment.

When I do commit to a couple of days of good old-fashioned angst, I watch a lot of tv, and since I no longer have cable, that means nine channels to choose between (compelling reason to learn Spanish–I’d have two more channels to watch). One classic moment this week was the much ballyhooed interview with the call girl from the Elliot Spitzer scandal. When she was asked whether she knew it was a governer she was ‘dating,’ she said she didn’t ‘conect the dots’ until she saw him on tv, and here’s the beauty part–Diane Sawyer says “You never knew who he was?…Hadn’t seen him in the paper?” Now maybe I’m making an unfair assumption here, but I just don’t see Kristin–sorry, Ashley–looking at her morning New York Times on a regular basis.

I never seem to brood for more than a couple of days–I eventually have to leave my apartment and interact with people, if only to buy more cigarettes. As I started to come out of my funk, I needed some tv that was mindless and upbeat, and that would be the exact description of “Don’t Forget The Lyrics,” hosted by Wayne Brady. Now, if it’s possible someone to have negative street cred, Wayne Brady would be one of those people. But I like to sing along with watered-down snippets of thirty-year-old songs as much as anyone, so I watched. And oddly enough, “Don’t Forget The Lyrics” brought me back. You see, when all you can see is your own shit, you need a little perspective. Well, the contestant on “Lyrics” said that she wanted to win so she could afford an operation because she was born with ONLY ONE EAR! It was then that I realized that not winning the Chicago Standup Comedy Showdown is pretty far down on the list of things about which to brood.

I think a good way to judge a new administration is by an equation I call the Contrition Differential Index. The CDI is a formula derived by dividing the number of announcements made by the number of apologies issued, then taking that number and multiplying it by the number of days since the election. Here’s an example:

Official Announcements From Team Obama: 15 (13 members of transition team, Chief of Staff Rahm Emmanuel, and some rules about lobbyists)

Apologies: 2 (Obama to Nancy Reagan for implying she held seances, Emmanuel to the American Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee for a comment his father made)

Days Since Election: 10

CDI= (15/2) x 10=75

Of course, since I just invented this concept, I’m not sure if a CDI of 75 is good or bad. I am sure that, in American politics, apologies are being issued for some pretty insignificant transgressions. Let’s look at the meae culpae from the past two weeks.

Granted, for some inexplicable reason, Nancy Reagan is adored by millions of Americans (who have apparently forgotten that for most of her term as First Lady she was widely seen as a shrewish Machiavellian horoscope-consulting whack-job). But the seance thing was…what’s it called?…A JOKE! Who exactly was wronged by this? Nancy Reagan? The widow of the man who, AS A JOKE, said “We begin bombing in five minutes”? Please.

The Emmanuel apology was for a comment his father made to an Israeli newspaper, and yeah, the comment was insensitive and narrow-minded, but he was hardly speaking on behalf of the administration! I realize this isn’t a particularly good time to piss off the Arab world, but I’m pretty sure most Arab-Americans are able separate what somebody’s dad said from offical policy. Hell, I think we all can remember things Dad said that made us cringe, and we basically said ‘that’s just Dad.’

We, as a nation, need to adopt a new motto: ‘Let It Go’. Put it right on the coins, instead of ‘In God We Trust’ (I haven’t seen a Zogby poll on this, but I’m thinking there’s a lot fewer people who trust God now than there were in 1956 anyway). The problem with every aggrieved group demanding an apology for a perceived slight is that apologies are at risk of becoming meaningless. You flood a market with something, that something gets devalued.

I’m all for contrition, but let’s save it for the big stuff. Like this, after a recent air strike in Afghanistan:

“We do not know all the facts at this time but we will investigate this situation to get to the truth,” said Col. Greg Julian, the chief U.S. military spokesman in Afghanistan. “If we find that innocent people were killed in this incident, we apologize…”

Putting aside my pacifistic instinct to point out that fewer innocent people will be killed if we stop firing missiles at places where innocent people live, this at least is an apology for something significant. Not sure how well received it was by the families involved, but it’s a nice gesture.

I suppose I should start sending formal apologies:

Dear T-Mobile–

I offer my heartfelt apologies if I gave the impression I would be able to pay my phone bill last month. I deeply regret any harm I have caused your company.

I feel better already. And if I’ve hurt anyone’s feelings, I am truly sorry.

I mentioned yesterday that at the Obama transition website, you can actually apply for a job with the administration online. The more I think of it, this may not be a good idea. As much as I dig the fact that the highest level of government is now internet-savvy (finally catching up to….most eighth-graders), I’m thinking that jobs within a president’s administration should be filled in a more traditional way–maybe they should be filled by people the president is already familiar with. Sure, there might be some undiscovered policy genius who sends in an app (“Hmmm…I already applied at Kinko’s, but in case I don’t get that I should also apply for that job working with the president,”), but I’d be worried that some clerical error in the screening process would allow a bunch of unemployed Gap clerks to end up as undersecretaries of something-or-other (“Mom–great news–I finally got a job–yeah I’m gonna be in charge of something called Infrastructure…no, I’m not sure what I’ll be doing but I start in January”).

It has been mentioned that yesterday’s meeting between Bush and Obama was the earliest such post-election meeting in history. If I were George, I’d be in a hurry to wrap things up too.

“Well, Barack, there’s the red phone…you know where the Rose Garden is…hmmmm…what else?….oh, yeah we’re in two unwinnable wars that the public doesn’t support and the banking system is essentially broken and the auto industry is pretty much bankrupt and unemployment is at a five year high and we’ve got no clue where Bin Laden is and…well, anyhoo, I gotta get outta here–I got me a library to build.”

Thankfully, taxpayers won’t have to pay too much for a George W. Bush Presidential Library–hell, we could probably get by with a Presidential Bookmobile for this guy.

Taking a stand against the corrupt influence of corporations, the new administration has announced that lobbyists cannot work in the federal government. Well, in the field in which they lobbied. Well, if they lobbied within the last year. Looks like we’re already gonna need a Department of Disclaimers. And speaking trying to have it both ways, Joe Lieberman (Traitor-CT) will probably be allowed to caucus with the Democrats, a decision based primarily on Lieberman’s irrelevance

One of the mantras of this transition has been “We only have one president at a time.” I’d argue that we have maybe half a president, and I really think that this artificial seventy-some day period before the new guy gets to move in is just an unnecessary throwback to an era when it took a long time for people in the new administration to get to the Capitol from different parts of the country. I say we give the president who’s leaving two weeks notice. Give him time to have one last press conference, send out some resumes, call a few buddies, and clean out his desk. Like I mentioned earlier, Bush would probably just as soon get out of town now, although I’m pretty sure it’s gonna take the jaws of life to pry Cheney’s hands off the levers of power.

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I would have posted sooner, but I’ve been recovering from an election hangover. When I woke up Wednesday, I had to check online to make sure the Repugnicans hadn’t found some creative way to send this election into limbo (”Fox News reports that the Supreme Court has ruled that Ohio is not actually a state”).  Since I didn’t have a ticket to Obamapalooza in Grant Park, I watched the results with some friends at a gay bar. Talk about a conflicted vibe–”Obama’s won California!” “California hates us!” Watching an election in a gay bar wasn’t any different than watching it in any other kind of bar, except for that one priceless moment as Michelle and Barack walked onstage, and everyone in the bar was hushed, until one queen in the back said “What were you thinking with that dress, honey? Michelle needs more gay friends!”

Today the Bushes are hosting the Obamas at the White House, and I like to imagine Barack messing with W.’s head when they’re alone in the Oval Office. You know, just…making shit up. “So, George, I was thinking now that I’m here, would you mind helping me move that desk so I can face Mecca?” Or maybe, in the privacy of that moment, Georgie comes clean–”You know, B-Man, I realize it’s pronounced ‘nu-cle-ar,’ but I like to sound stupid to piss off my dad.”

Now that talk has turned to the transition, you’ll be interested to know that you can apply for a job in the new administration online, at this link. The more I think of it, this may not be a good idea. As much as I dig the fact that the highest level of government is now internet-savvy (finally catching up to….most eighth-graders), I’m thinking that jobs within a president’s administration should be filled in a more traditional way–maybe they should be filled by people the president is already familiar with. Sure, there might be some undiscovered policy genius who sends in an app (”Hmmm…I already applied at Kinko’s, but in case I don’t get that I should also apply for that job working with the president,”), but I’d be worried that some clerical error in the screening process would allow a bunch of unemployed Gap clerks to end up as undersecretaries of something-or-other (”Mom–great news–I finally got a job–yeah I’m gonna be in charge of something called Infrastructure…no, I’m not sure what I’ll be doing but I start in January”).

There is one position I think I could fill in the new administration, but it doesn’t exist yet. I see myself in a new Cabinet positon–Secretary of Humor. Any time the global political situation got really tense, I would come out and do a quick ten minute standup routine, just to loosen everyone up. I would also be in charge of executive -level snark. I truly believe that sometimes it’s not enough to stand up to enemies, you need to mock them. I could convene a special subcommittee to determine exactly which world leaders are the most ridiculous.

Like most people, I was inspired by Obama’s grand oratorical skills. But there on the home page of the transition website, the goal of the new administration is stated as “making sure the world we leave our children is just a little bit better than the one we inhabit today.” Just a little bit better? Talk about lowering expectations…jeez, take a risk, you guys! Apparently we’ve gone from the sweeping pronouncement ‘Yes We Can!’ to ‘We Might Be Able To In A Small Incremental Way.’ Not quite as catchy.

It has been mentioned that yesterday’s meeting between Bush and Obama was the earliest such post-election meeting in history. If I were George, I’d be in a hurry to wrap things up too.

“Well, Barack, there’s the red phone…you know where the Rose Garden is…hmmmm…what else?….oh, yeah we’re in two unwinnable wars that the public doesn’t support and the banking system is essentially broken and the auto industry is pretty much bankrupt and unemployment is at a five year high and we’ve got no clue where Bin Laden is and…well, anyhoo, I gotta get outta here–I got me a library to build.”

Thankfully, taxpayers won’t have to pay too much for a George W. Bush Presidential Library–hell, we could probably get by with a Presidential Bookmobile for this guy.

Taking a stand against the corrupt influence of corporations, the new administration has announced that lobbyists cannot work in the federal government. Well, in the field in which they lobbied. Well, if they lobbied within the last year. Looks like we’re already gonna need a Department of Disclaimers. And speaking trying to have it both ways, Joe Lieberman (Traitor-CT) will probably be allowed to caucus with the Democrats, a decision based primarily on Lieberman’s irrelevance

One of the mantras of this transition has been “We only have one president at a time.” I’d argue that we have maybe half a president, and I really think that this artificial seventy-some day period before the new guy gets to move in is just an unnecessary throwback to an era when it took a long time for people in the new administration to get to the Capitol from different parts of the country. I say we give the president who’s leaving two weeks notice. Give him time to have one last press conference, send out some resumes, call a few buddies, and clean out his desk. Like I mentioned earlier, Bush would probably just as soon get out of town now, although I’m pretty sure it’s gonna take the jaws of life to pry Cheney’s hands off the levers of power.

There was almost no line when I got to my polling place today,although there was a woman in front of me who didn’t realize she had to register before she could vote–not sure she should have a say in what happens if she’s that unclear on the process. I thought I’d take this opportunity to walk you through the Illinois ballot and why I voted the way I did.

First, a referendum to call a new constitutional convention. I voted yes, because I’m hoping if they have one, the people writing the new constitution will be wearing powdered wigs. Then it was time for the presidential race. These people have no sense of dramatic structure–that should have obviously been last on the ballot. And I really wish I had done more research. I knew that in addition to Obama and McCain, there would be Cynthia McKinney from the Green Party and the Three Grumpy Men on the fringe (Ralph, Ron, Bob–pretty sure you’re gonna just miss the cut, guys), but I had no idea there was a Constitution Party candidate (on every issue, he’s basically opposed to abortion), and my new hero is New Party candidate John J. Polachek.

In a classic case of Illinois political weirdness, although 25,000 signatures are required for a new party to appear on the ballot, and Polachek collected exactly zero, if nobody contests the petition you file, the state puts you on the ballot. Nobody contested, so there he was. Here’s what we know about Mr. Polachek. He’s a fifty-one year old taxi driver living in Rogers Park. Period. In an era where we are drowning in minutiae, I find it refreshing that we don’t know anything about this guy. Oh–and we know he did not select a running-mate…the ballot actually said ‘None Listed,’ which tells me he thought to himself–’Don’t worry–I got this.’ And his only policy statement was, according to the State Board of Elections, a handwritten note that said ninety-five percent of his passengers agreed with his ideas. Good enough for me, and I hope he runs again.

A quick wikipedia check shows five other parties with a presidential candidate on more than one state ballot. You know, I’m not sure we should get all parliamentarian and give credence to every fringe party like Israel does–I think there is such a thing as too much democracy. In Israel, my Facebook friends and I would actually have to be included in a coalition government. But maybe we could elect two presidents, one from the two main parties and one from all the others–we’d call that person the Fringe President, and the FP would be allowed to vote on things like ceremonial days, and naming buildings.

This is how unaware McCain is–he spent all that effort trying to label Obama a socialist, when ,there are actually three different REAL socialists running for president. It gets a little confusing, because there’s a Socialist Party, a Socialist Workers party, and a Socialism and Liberation Party (maybe these people should get together, sort of a strength in numbers thing). The S&L Party website says they got on the ballot in Rhode Island, so they’ve got momentum, while the SW Party has a small problem in that its candidate (Roger Calero) is constitutionally ineligible to serve, as a resident alien with a felony conviction for selling marijuana. The best of the bunch is the old-school Socialist Party, which has actually announced it’s cabinet (Jeremiah Wright as UN Ambassador–that oughta shake things up).

Now for the fringiest of the fringe. There is a Prohibition Party candidate , and as a bonus, on his website you can see some of his paintings, which is cool. There is a new Boston Tea Party,  which certainly has the simplest platform and for inspiration quotes lyrics from “Les Miserables.”  And lastly, the Objectivist Party (and where was coverage of their convention?) is based entirely on the writings of Ayn Rand, which, based on the thirty or so pages of ‘The Fountainhead’ I was able to get through in college, might limit their appeal.

For U.S. Senator, I voted for the incumbent, because though I admire the Green Party platform, I would be worried that someone who’s that far outside the Beltway might actually miss a lot of votes just by getting lost in the Senate building. Besides, they would be called a ‘freshman’ senator, and that makes me think there would be all kinds of hazing.

Then the ballot got a little strange, because for State senate and the House about fifteen candidates in a row ran unopposed, which made it feel a little like voting in Soviet Russia.

Now I always thought judges were appointed, but at least in Illinois, we have to vote for them. Every freaking one of them. For some, there was an actual race between two people I hadn’t heard of, and for about a hundred and fifty, you were just supposed to decide whether or not to ‘retain’ them. Nobody I know who voted knew anything about these judges, and the only information I found in the voter guide was that they all were deemed ‘qualified.’ So, since I wasn’t about to give up my right to vote on anything, I had to come up with a system. This was my system:

1. In a race between a man and a woman, I chose the woman. I just think they’re more nurturing, and if I ever have to face a judge, I want a nurturing one. Likewise, I voted to ‘retain’ all female judges, with the exceptions noted below.
2. I have may Irish friends in Chicago, and I mean no disrespect to the good men and women of the Emerald Isle, but I think it’s safe to say the Irish are fairly well represented in Chicago politics. So, I generally voted against people with Irish surnames. Just in the interest of balance.
3. Also in the interest of balance, I voted for people with non-Irish names, like Otaka and Wojkowski.
4. I voted to not retain Edmund Ponce de Leon, because of that whole ‘fountain of youth’ thing.
5. I voted against a guy named Nixon, just instinctively.
6. I voted against anyone who, in quotation marks, was listed by a nickname that any idiot could figure out without the quotation marks. I think we know that James Williamson can also be called ‘Jim’.
7. I voted against Katherine ‘Kitty’ McCarthy, because ‘Kitty’ sounds more like a stripper than a judge, and if she’s choosing to be listed on the ballot as ‘Kitty,’ her judgement is questionable.
8. I voted against John Thomas Doody for entirely sophomoric reasons. Seriously–Judge Doody?

There you have it–my voting experience. Now I’m going to Crispy Creme, proud to live in a nation in which my reward for voting is a glazed hunk of dough.

A seldom reported consequence of this week’s election will be an inevitable spike in unemployment figures, as thousands of tv commentators, campaign strategtists, and bloggers become suddenly irrelevant. There’s a whole new economic class of people whose job description consists of talking about things that happened, but who make nothing happen themselves. This year, and certainly for the last month, it’s been as if the election consisted entirely of commentary about commentary, while discerning voters (all eighteen of us) have had to strip off layer upon layer of analysis to get to the actual candidates. It’s what I imagine it must have been like to finally be alone with a  woman in the Victorian era–by the time you’ve stripped off the dress, the petticoats, the girdle and the bloomers, the passion’s gone and you’re just wondering what you were after in the first place.

“Meet The Press” is a great example of this tail-chasing dog. This venerable show elegant in it’s simplicity–someone in the press talking to someone in the news. Now we get to watch some regional campaign strategist from one side arguing with someone else’s deputy campaign chairman about a video clip of a senior campaign advisor reacting to…something–by that point I’ve forgotten who I’m voting for.

Other victims of this imminent politico-depression will be the companies that make the high-tech polling/tracking gadgets. Now I think red state-blue state maps of the United States are as cool as the next guy, but how will we retool them to be useful until the next election. Maybe, since Americans are dunderheads about geography, the nightly news can have a segment where the anchor simply points at a state with his telestrator and asks viewers if they can call in to identify it (“43 percent of you correctly guessed North Dakota”).

The whole ‘red state’/'blue state’ paradigm has started to sound a little too Dr. Seuss for my tastes. Red State, Blue State, Old State, New State. It reminds me too much of USA Today, with it’s colors, and pie charts, and simple upbeat headlines. If a nuclear bomb killed millions of people in this country, I imagine their headline would be “Lots of Us Still Left–And We’re Shopping More!” Their masthead should say “Not Too Much News At One Time.”

The ripple effect of the upcoming post-election economy will be tragic. Late night monologues gutted…MSNBC going off the air entirely, with Keith Olbermann calling ESPN to get his SportsCenter job back and Chris Matthews left to just yell at random people on the street…C-SPAN running eight-hour marathons of ‘Booknotes’…We can’t let this happen, people, so l suggest we make this election best three out of five, and on November 5th, start ‘Campaign ‘09–The Rematch.’ Do it all over again. Have another round of primaries, and this time let Ralph Nader and Ron Paul start with three or four hundred delegates. And more debates–one every couple days.

There’s been a lot of talk about the ‘Bradley effect,’ which describes how some people will tell pollsters that they’re comfortable voting for an African-American and then when they step inside the voting booth it turns into a time machine and suddenly it’s 1958 and they realize that they’re rednecks. There are of course other ‘effects’ that could cost Obama the election.

THE KEGGER EFFECT: in which thousands of newly registered young voters sleep late on Election Day, and by the time they’ve finished uploading videos of their favorite band to their MySpace pages, the polls have already closed

THE SNL EFFECT: in which voters decide that since ‘Saturday Night Live’ hasn’t been really funny since 1982, the country will be better off if the show can keep bringing back Tina Fey to do her Sarah Palin impression

THE 7-11 EFFECT: in which people believe that the cup they choose for their coffee actually counts as a vote

I plan on spending the days before the election deciding which country to move to if McCain wins. After some preliminary research, I’ve narrowed it down to Canada (easy to get to), the Netherlands (great art and architecture–oh, who am I kidding…marijuana is legal there) and the Kingdom of Tonga. Although I’m pretty sure if I moved to the Kingdom of Tonga it would be even harder for me to find a day job than it is now.

It’s not news that this country has gotten dumber. What’s frightening to me is how we’ve become a country that embraces dumb. I think most people would agree that a country is best judged by its tv game shows, and today, the three most popular are “Wheel of Fortune,” “Deal or No Deal,” and “Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader?”. The last one gives out huge sums of cash to adults who have to prove they know more than eleven-year olds. They’ve got it backwards–”Fifth Grader” should in fact punish the grownups who don’t win–if you’re not smarter than a fifth grader, you should be put in an internment camp so we can isolate the dullards and prevent them from breeding.

Throughout this election year, much has been made of the ‘average’ American. As if that’s the group upon which we should be building our future. Let me tell you something–the ‘average’ American is an idiot. We should be aiming for the top, and by definition, ‘average’ means somewhere in the flabby middle. The average American is that guy working at Target who is baffled by any question that doesn’t involve the particular section of the store for which he’s been trained. The average American is the woman on the bus who doesn’t understand that by standing in the front of the bus, she’s actually preventing other people from getting on the bus. The average American is that person who sees a ‘push’ sign on a door–because it’s at freaking eye level–and proceeds to pull the door…not once, but twice.

This naive notion that our country would be better off if the average American were running things, or that our elected officials should explain things in terms the average American can understand, is why we will someday be ranked somewhere between Sri Lanka and Chad on the list of world powers. Not that the average American would know where Sri Lanka or Chad are. I sorta think the people in charge of the dumb people should be smarter than the dumb people, but maybe that’s just my elitism talking.

It’s too bad a candidate for elected office can’t say things like “My opponent is a good person with a beautiful family, but the fact is I AM MUCH SMARTER THAN HE IS.” Or, “I’m not worried about attacks from my opponent, because THEY’RE STUPID.” Read the speeches of great leaders from the past–they didn’t speak like the average Americans of their time. They used nuanced concepts, polished turns of phrase, and really big words. Lincoln never felt the need to sprinkle in some ‘you betcha’s and ‘darn right’s just to connect with people who are ‘average.’ Not to offend any dactylonomists reading this, but this country needs to start celebrating smart people. Why do we think it’s good to be average? In game show terms, that’s the $64,000 Question. To paraphrase Barry Goldwater, elitism in the defense of intelligence is no vice, and commonality in the defense of mediocrity is no virtue.