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I found this vidoe on the intertubes — good ole boys Bubba and Big’n giving their thoughts on the Socialist Problem.

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Who’d’a thunk that the political party more effectively capitalizing on the world wide internet’s auto-immune deficiency would be those stodgy ol’ Repubs – party of Sansabelt and MedicAlert, war and gasoline, glory hole shame and snake-handlin’ salvation. The party which arrived at this year’s electoral soiree flashing clean-shorn crotch like a tabloid debutante, looking to spread their cultural herpes with a meme so virulent that even after a double-dose of black market Mexican antibiotics it still drips from the urethra of the zeitgeist’s cold-sore-ridden member. I refer of course to Sarah Palin – the Repubs very own RickRoll – who just four weeks ago splattered across the Spiritus Mundi like placental shrapnel from a coat hanger abortion on a bus depot ladies’ room floor (no mere metaphor should Palin and her fellow Christ-a-Plenty glossolalists have their Roe V. Wade druthers).

Of course the joke was on me – and everyone like me – who underestimated the Republicans’ L337HAX0Rtude, scoffed at their Twitterness. Truth told the Republicans, thanks to Mike Steele’s goose-steppin’ GOPAC, are masters of the meme, which is why anyone rubber-neckin’ the party’s National Convention last month heard more soccer chants than in a stadium full of hooligans on “Free Guinness Day.” Just listen to the laboriously crafted catchphrases rolling off the Oxycotin-bloated tongues of the GOP’s AM radio pundits. Then peep as they’re regurgitated across innumerable blogs and message boards, where one finds more ugly American id than ever thought could be contained in the ever-expanding Interverse. The internet used to be the domain of the tech-savvy thinking class and many Dems, especially those still running Clinton-era mental operating systems, make the very wrong assumption that this is still the case. How naïve. How out of touch. Newsflash, 90’s dinosaurs: Cobain’s dead, the Spin Doctors ain’t getting spins no more, and the INTERNETZ is no longer reserved for Wired-reading dot-com start-uppers with greying soul patches and $500 plastic rims. It is now stomping grounds for he who Sarah Palin calls “Joe Sixpack” – the largely male, largely obese genus dumbass americanus who hides under the internet’s cloak of anonymity to spill hate-filled, ignorant, misspelled missives usually containing some variant of the word “FAGGIT.” The INTERNETZ done gone NASCAR on your ass. And the Repubs – being capitalists – are capitalizing on this fact, they possessing the wherewithal to recognize this ‘net thang as the post-industrial age’s most efficient propaganda machine.

So while much head-scratching has occurred care of the koan “just what the hell was McCain thinking?” vis-à-vis his selecting the aforementioned book-burner as his running mate rest assured that’s exactly the point. The Repubs needed sticky content and they found it up in yonder meth-lab-dotted hills of Alaska. But like one of those doll-within-a-dolls that are oh so popular with Palin’s hostile next-door neighbors, the LuvGuv’s not just the substance-free-substance but the vessel, the tweedle-dumb rural drawl to deliver the party line to those who can only comprehend what is said S-L-O-W-L-Y, succinctly, in as simple terms as possible.

Gotcha Journalism

No doubt intended to counter the multitude of Youtubes depicting Ms. Palin getting worked over by that insufferable hard-ass Katie Couric – and also as preemptive damage control had the VP debate spawned more of the same inbox-clutterin’ nuggets (alas it didn’t), McCain and Palin kicked off their week by unveiling GOPAC’s latest noggin-sticker:

Didn’t catch it? Don’t worry, they’ll say it again. And again. “Gotcha journalism” apparently refers to a tactic used by the MSM (GOPAC jargonese for “main stream media” – Repubs use more acronyms than the Church of Scientology) to catch a public figure in a moment of self-contradiction, backpedaling, or outright fibbing. Of course this used to be called just “journalism.” But add “gotcha” to the front end and you’ve got a MSG-saturated piece of brain-candy downloadin’ like a Lil’ Wayne ring-tone to the Boost Mobile Phone of the collective-consciousness.

Drill, Baby, Drill!

Those who watched last night’s VP debate witnessed the LuvGuv’s efforts to correct Joe Biden’s misappropriation of her party’s official NRC catchphrase: “It’s not ‘drill, drill, drill,’ Joe. It’s ‘drill – BABY — drill!’” The distinction being that the Repubs want actual babies to do the drilling. Perhaps retarded babies, to bring home the point that every little angel is part of God’s plan, even the retardeds, and that by scraping that critter out of your spitter you Pro-Choice heathen lezbos deplete much-needed babies from the oil industry’s labor pool.

Obviously “drill, baby, drill!” is a meme Republicans will not let go quietly into this good night, and for good reason: It is the crux of their energy policy, one which hinges on the precept that the only viable solution to America’s addiction to a poisonous, expensive, non-renewable energy source is to give Dick Cheney’s cronies free reign to prospect for more of it in public waters. That the potential upside would, in the best case scenario, be analogous to putting a band-aid on gangrene matters not: What matters is that we continue to line the coffers of American institutions such as Haliburton, ConocoPhillips and Mobil Exxon. Rock, flag and eagle, baby.

Maverick

From 1969 – 1977, one of the Ford Motor Company’s sales leaders was a sporty compact built on the rear-wheel drive platform of the Falcon, one boasting stylish yet inexpensive features to bridge the gap between muscle car enthusiasts and more frugal, budget-conscious consumers. The success of the Ford Maverick apparently made an impact on John McCain – oddly, as the candidate spent most of the model’s glory years in a POW camp several thousand miles removed from America’s consumer culture – enough that he’s appropriated its name as his chosen campaign allonym. The Repub’s VPBot drilled-drilled-drilled this baby into the ground like a good little automaton during last night’s debate, but ye Gods bless Joe Biden for taking her to task for it.

Indeed, John McCain no more resembles a sporty compact from the early 1970s than he does James Garner, who was twice-nominated for an Emmy in the titular role of ABC’s Maverick which aired from 1957 – 1962. McCain may well have been a maverick in the halcyon years of his political career, but he cashed in those chips when he inserted himself into the musty recesses of George W. Bush’s posterior some eight years ago. “Used to be” doesn’t mean “is now,” John McCain: circa 2008 you are no more a maverick than you are POW.

The Wink

More affectation than bona fide meme — or perhaps GOPAC’s most brilliant meme yet, as it contained no words and yet still conveyed their simple, easily-digestible message, which through ad naseum repetition Sarah Palin was to engrave on the public’s psyche. Sarah Palin winked no less than 4,000 times during the vice presidential debate, each time with the OCD precision of a veteran stripper who’d memorized the perfect rolling-of-tongue-over-pouted-lips with which to separate her crotch-engorged customers from their sweaty singles. To you women, it was meant to convey that you and LuvGuv Palin were on the same page; them Waaaarshington stuffed suits might not get it, but y’all were sharing the same menstrual cycle. To the men, it was the same wink you might receive from across the TGI Friday’s bar at the tail end of happy hour, letting you know that if you played your cards right – and buy her a mudslide or two — you might have yourself a hot lil’ Pentecostal hockey mom handling your snake tonight. Sure it lacked subtlety, but only to distinguish the wink from a nervous tic, which would’ve just been creepy.

Main Stream Media

Palin dropped only one MSM-bomb last night, but its message was clear: Don’t believe what your eyes and ears told you as you peeped those YouTubes of Palin spouting non-sequitur word salad like Katie Couric had caught her in the throes of a stoke – they were just part of the vast conspiracy perpetrated by the evil Main Stream Media (meaning any news outlet not owned by Rupert Murdoch) to undermine the Republican’s campaign. Why? And to what end? Simple answer: The Jews! See, Jews (who own the media, right?) are not Christians and thus hate America. And while Palin’s declarations of love for Israel last night might be misconstrued as a love for the Jews themselves, rest assured it is only because the real estate they’re sitting on is where Jesus was born, and where he’ll be born again come the pending Apocalypse. Don’t ever, ever, EVER underestimate a Pentecostal Christian’s steadfast belief that the end times are coming, and sooner rather than later: It colors their every action, and every aspect of their waking lives. We might not know much about Palin, but it is this factoid pertaining to her background that is most terrifying.

Perhaps what was most surprising about last night’s VP debate was that Palin’s head did not explode a la Scanners, spraying Gwen Ifill and the first three rows with bloody sinew. Indeed Palin met expectations (which were admittedly quite low) and succeeded in her assigned task of beating party talking-points into the ground and spreading those GOPAC memes. But perhaps, for those of us terrified at the thought of another eight years of governmental corruption and our continued slide toward economic fascism (and I use this term not hyperbolically but in the most literal sense), this was the best thing we could hope for. And it is here that I come back around to this essay’s title, and point out the lesson the now-quasi-defunct New Line Cinema learned the hard way in marketing their 2006 film Snakes on a Plane. Eight months prior to its release date, Snakes on a Plane was spread all over the zeitgeist like the Clorox-scented glaze on the face of a bukkake princess. On the YouTubes, on the 4Chans, at the watercooler and spilling from the lips of drunken frat boys, those snakes on the motherfuckin’ planes were motherfuckin’ inescapable. New Line, in an attempt to reign in something that had developed quite naturally, and organically, tried capitalizing on their film’s inexplicable place in popular culture by further beating the meme into the ground. Yet by the time the film bowed in theaters, the public had moved on, and the results were just short of disaster. Snakes on a Plane performed well below all industry expectations and proved once and for all that such calculated attempts to harness the collective consciousness were as fruitless as trying to fuck a volcano. With this in mind, it is quite possible that come election time the American public will similarly tire of Sarah Palin –- and her annoying yokel twang, her winks and fingernails-on-chalkboard white trash sorority girl mannerisms — and move on to the zeitgeist’s next hot piece o’ sticky content –- like a video of a monkey peeing on a dude, or a Fergie song’s titular euphemism for getting fisted by a midget. We can only hope.

These are literally the awesomest people to ever exist in the Universe, ever. And while she’s obviously drunk as shit, the woman does make a point. Obama’s name sucks.

Rep. Charles Rangel, D-N.Y

Boy howdy I don’t know if it’s due to the change of seasons, or because the presidential race is getting down to the wire with no clear front-runner, or if it’s merely due to the astrozoological crapola my meth-head sister Tina goes on and on about like how Venus is in retrograde with my anus or whatever — but political discourse has been hotter than my GMC pick-up’s V-block as of late, like trash-talk on a sizzle-reel hyping the latest Wrestlepalooza pay-per-view.

For example just last Friday Charles Rangel – New York Democrat, chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, negro-person – made what some construed as a major gaffe when he referred to the Republican party’s candidate for Vice President of the World, Sarah Palin, as being “disabled.”

Surprisingly, many took offense to the congressman’s comment. Not because they felt that he was demeaning Crips by putting them and “Tits” Palin in the same wheelbarrow, but because they felt the congressman’s use of the term “disabled” carried some negative connotation.

That’s just dumb. Obviously Rep. Rangel meant it as a compliment. But we’ll get back to that.

It’s not like Congressman Rangel and controversy ain’t been playing slap n’ tickle on the same musky futon. As a matter of fact Rangel’s currently under investigation for ethics violations due to a little matter of some black back taxes he owes the IRS. I can hardly fault the Congressman for not paying taxes. I ain’t ever paid taxes — partly because selling dope’s a cash business, and frankly I ain’t comfortable declaring such income on my 1040EZ — but mostly because taxes are unconstitutional, and oh yeah fuck the government. If they want my dope money they can pry it out of my cold dead hands along with my gun, my absinthe, my Mexican knock-off Viagra and my Burmese cobra Eddie Jr. I ain’t the sort of American who takes Liberty for granted and it appears neither is Charles Rangel, so God bless him for that.

Still, being that he is chairman of the Ways and Means committee — and the only thing I’m “chairman” of is the La-Z-boy I stole off my stupid neighbor’s front lawn (fuck it, ain’t like Darren was using it) — I understand why the congressman felt the need to backpedal a bit by issuing the following statement:

“Governor Palin is an obviously healthy person who in no way fits the description of disabled. I meant to say then, and I am saying now, that she entered the campaign with a disadvantage in the area of foreign policy.”

He went on to clarify that his statement was not alluding to the fact that Governor Palin’s tainted DNA had already brought at least one drool-cup-wearing retard-baby into the world when he added:

“Any inference that my words were in any connected to her son, Trig, who was born with Down syndrome, is a real stretch — and, I would have to think — a way to make political points out of my poor choice of words.”

Jeesh, why don’t you just commandeer her limo, Morgan Freeman. Anyone with half a non-Down-Syndrome-afflicted brain could see that referring to Sarah Palin as “disabled” was anything but an insult. Quite the contrary.

See, by likening Palin to a waterhead, Rangel suggests that perhaps the Governor’s jaw-dropping ignorance is something beyond her own control. After all, an able-minded adult in the 21st century should be able to understand that merely being in close proximity to another country – even if you’ve never been to it or interacted with its leaders – does not make you an expert on foreign policy. For example, on a clear day I can see Mexico from my RV; doesn’t make me qualified to pick tomatoes, nor would I list “stealing hubcaps” amongst the skills on my resume. Likewise, an able-minded adult would be able recognize that some jobs – like oh, say, Leader of the First World – might be beyond the scope of their qualifications. However Palin takes no issue with the fact that her job experience barely qualifies her to manage a self-serve car wash, never mind Vice Prez or heaven forbid, El Presidente. And yeah, I realize she’s governor of Alaska. That might seem like a big deal if you’ve never been to Alaska. But if you have then you realize that Alaska — literally and figuratively the armpit of America — is little more than a trailer park with polar bears. Don’t get me wrong; it’s a big, beautiful place full of wondrous creatures and delightful indigenous tribesmen who make sport of clubbing baby seals. But as soon as you hear one of the locals slacken their jaws you’ll be wondering what the Inuit word is for “Deliverance.” There are only two reasons for a non-Eskimo to live in Alaska: 1) Because they’re wanted for a felony in the lower 48 or 2) because they’re a lonely, attention-deprived female who’s perversely attracted to fugitive felons. Guess which category Sarah Palin fits in?

One could also infer from the congressman’s comments that Sarah Palin, despite her lack of qualifications and properly firing synapses, might rise to the occasion and work her elliptical-machine-sculpted-honeybuns off once the Vice Presidential sash and tiara are placed upon her person. As anyone who’s ever been to a Burger King can tell you, NO ONE works harder or takes greater pride in their job than the gimptards the fast foodery hires for the federal tax breaks. As a matter of fact when I go to a Burger King and there’s a zitty teenager working register A, a Mexican on register B, and a perma-smiling handi-capable gunning register C – which line do you think I’m getting in? At least the retard has a 75% chance of getting my order right. Mentally disabled folks work hard and do the best damn job they can, but when they make mistakes as they sometimes do (they are retarded after all), they at least have the humility and common decency to admit it, and apologize for it.

But humility and common decency are apparently outmoded concepts to the Republican Party circa 2008, along with “freedom,” “balanced budgets” and “survival of the human species.” And don’t ever expect an apology out of those assholes. You’ll sooner be seeing speed-limit signs in metric than you’ll be seeing George W. Bush step up to the podium like a MAN and apologize for killing our babies in an oil-profiteering war, or ruining our economy while his Yale limp-biscuited circle jerk buddies are raking in “now I can buy my way out of anything” money. And George W’s about as close as one can get to an actual retard without actually being one. But I guess as it goes with horseshoes and hand grenades, so it goes with retards.

And if Palin herself had any humility, common decency, or a fraction of an actual retard person’s work ethic, you’d think she’d have at least prepared herself for the VP candidate role by boning up on her party’s policies (apparently she was too busy “boning up” her hubby’s ex business partner). Ain’t like preparedness is absent from Palin’s skillset. After all, preparedness is what inspired the Luv-Guv to drag out her “horny librarian” Halloween costume two months early (I guess Spencer Gifts was already sold out of their “sexy nurse” and “slutty police woman” costumes).

But it’s obvious Palin’s bid for vice presidency has nothing to do with civic duty — or for serving the people of the nation she supposedly (as she’s wont to tell you over and over and over and over) loves just a little bit more than Jesus — or even guaranteeing a better life for the Jolie-sized stable of libido-enhanced whelps she and her Skidoo-racing, sex-offender-looking husband have been half-assedly rearing up in yonder Alaskan wilds. However it does seem to have everything to do with ego, glory and personal aggrandizement. This is Palin’s American Idol, and damned if she’s gonna let a tin-ear and half-octave range get in the way of her going all the way. Fuck it; she’ll just blow Randy Jackson.

If ONLY the Republicans had put a boner-fide mongoloid on their ticket. I might actually be able to sleep at night.