Later that same night...

I came home tonight and my girlfriend was watching last week's Republican National Convention coverage. The W speech. I was immediately revolted, and not because she was watching it. That part I understand. She's a certified information junkie. She's watching it because she watches everything especially if it's important. She can separate herself from her emotions, watch and listen without getting all carried away and feeling the need to scream at the television. I, on the other hand, cannot.
"What the fuck! I hate that cocksucker!"
She hits the pause button, rolls over, opens her arms.
"What the hell do these people expect this motherfucker to say? We know what he's going to say! Fucking asshole!"
She says nothing, beckons me into her embrace.
She's a good one, my girlfriend.
I continue to rant and rave until the speech ends. She patiently ignores me, listens to the whole speech, then puts on last night's Amazing Race. This makes me happy. I so want the Bowling Moms to win, and I'm ecstatic when those asshole twins get eliminated.

After the Race, I convince her to go get a beer with me. It was a good time. We had a couple of drinks, talked about life, love, family, politics. We still stand amazed that people can approach the election of the President of the United States of America with the same kind of blind fanaticism they usually reserve for their favorite sports teams. There is no discussion of the issues with these people, no discourse on who might actually be fit for the office -- they spend more time weighing the pros and cons of soap than they do deciding who might be the best choice as Leader of the Free World.
"Well, Tide does get those tough grass stains out but then again Cheer is a good bargain. What? Of course I'm voting for George W. Bush. He's a Republican."
I've lost all faith in the American people. Not to say I think they're inherently evil. Just stupid to a fault. We all get what we deserve on this one.

So now I'm here in my underwear, listening to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, chugging Coronas and wondering when the revolution might really begin. I have a dream to rival King's. I dream of a night in January when that smug dumb asshole takes the Oath for the second time and the first salvo is fired in the Second American Revolution. I dream of the dirty poor armed with recently un-banned assault weapons marching on the White House in a pogrom of destruction to rival the sacking of Phnom Penh. I dream of a burnished Marine General, fed up with feeding his troops into the global meat grinder, seizing simultaneous control of the military and burning public sentiment, leading his rebel army to the gates of the castle, public arrests at dawn in the shadow of the Washington Monument. A white, corn-fed, American Che with freedom on his lips and blood on his hands leading us into the light, ending forever our complacency and finally giving us the Third World fantasy we've been entertaining for the last four years.

But I guess that's just me.