Like Oil On Velvet

Probably the thing I dread most about a big democratic win in November is the pitiful wailing and gnashing of teeth that will inevitably ensue once the fat lady sings. One might think that the incessant gloating of the right wing would actually be worse. But one quickly develops calluses to the blunt and exceedingly juvenile frat boy fist pumping at every purple finger corner we turn. And, after all, their running around screaming "loser, loser" is actually kind of comical because each and every time it turns out that their "victory" is actually a crude drawing of the word "victory" barely legibly scrawled on a napkin with the discarded stub of a crayon from the local preschool.

Well, that is, when their "victory" scrawl isn't drawn with the blood of American soldiers on a mosaic of $1,000,000,000 bills. But I digress.

So, while each and every one of their little superiority dances that they do on the graves of the dead they're responsible for grates like 200 grit sandpaper dragged across my eye balls, it's something that one unfortunately gets used to and can deal with by compartmentalization.

But the wailing and gnashing of the collective right when they've just been handed their sorry ass by the voting public - Jesus H. Christ on a Rubber Fucking Crutch. That sound that will echo across the land like someone placed a microphone in hell itself and piped it into every fricking mall, gym and doctor's waiting room on the planet. And as much as I really love to see the right eat itself alive in the attempt to blame each and every one else for the loss (everyone, except of course, themselves) and rationalize the obvious rejection of their policies, there's only so much that I can take of conservative self pity. Because, being supremely pompous bastards (see Trevino, Josh aka Tacitus), they can't just go about the dirty business of cleansing their ranks of the inner infidel in the dead of night using knives. Nope, they will instead try to pummel the infidel with blog posts, millions of column inches of shrill opinions, and harpy like screaming on the talk and news programs.

Ye gods.

Of course, the biggest whiner of all the harpies on the right will be none other than the chief petulant officer himself, George Bush. There's nothing that chaps his hide than people having the sheer audacity to give him the finger (if it ain't purple, then it ain't worthy of expression). Worse than a non purple finger extended in his direction will be the level of irrelevance that a lame duck president polling in the low 30's is relegated after the mid term elections. God almighty, Bush doesn't take the finger very well, but he takes irrelevance even worse. Already most of the saner conservatives have already written George off and are rooting for a democratic victory. Hell, even Bob "The Intestinal Parasite" Woodward has abandoned the decider. The man will be a leper.

Still, one must remember that this is all sheer fantasy. My delicate sensibilities are quite likely safe beyond all reasonable fear. After all, Diebold voting machines are still out there in large numbers in strategic districts. A party willing to torture, suspend habeas corpus, set up an archipelago of secret CIA prisons and god only knows what else is unlikely to see voting machine tampering as some insurmountable ethical barrier. And they probably don't need to even do that, seeing as how they pretty much drew the district boundaries (repeatedly, in Texas where if it's worth doing right, it's worth doing as many times as needed) which virtually guarantee them victory.

After all, Bush is in the low 30's. Congress - and in particular, Republican congressman - is polling somewhere below the Marianas trench. And as far as I can tell, it's still likely to be a narrow Republican victory.

Lucky me.