Find Me Guilty

[Mythsaje]

So, we're talking about a national makeover. The chance to put the past several years behind us and return to a belief in actual diplomacy and abandoned the notion that we can change the world by the firm application of our collective boot up its backside. The chance to turn our sights inward for a little while and prop up our faltering economy and give a little love to the middle class rather than the elite class for a change. To make an attempt to raise people out of poverty and actually give them a place to settle.

Okay. No laughing. Really. It's not funny.

I'm guilty of wishful thinking. Of allowing hope to color my vision. And, no, I don't necessarily refer to the whole "hope and change" mantra. I'm a Democrat. I live on hope. And these days, that includes hope for change.

Look around. Yes, that means YOU, Uncle Fred, you Bush loving Nanderthal. Where's your faith in your erstwhile shit-kicking, brush-clearing near-messiah gotten you, eh? Remember when Clinton left office? Remember that great job you had? Remember how you got to drive all over the place and that twenty cents a mile they gave you for it seemed like a small fortune?

Got news. Gas is twice as expensive now and, well, I hate to say I told you so, but...well, no I don't. You need to hear "I told you so" as often as possible. Maybe it'll sink in past that six inches of bone that protects your walnut-sized brain.

And where's that great job you had, huh? Gone away. Hell, the whole company's gone away. Shipped out to Bangladesh or somethiing where they can pay some geeky kid a tenth of your salary to do your job over the internet and save all that gas money for themselves. Makes you proud, don't it?

Remember the run-up to the Iraq War, Fred? When I told you that he didn't have WMDs, and, even if he did have any left of the ones ol' Donny Rumsfeld acquired for him back during the Iran/Iraq war, the last thing he would've done was use them or give them away.

Oh, that's right. He sent them to Syria. So we could march in more or less unopposed, hunt him down, drag him out of a hole in the ground, put him on trial, and hang him in front of the whole world.

Fred, he was a dicator. Not a moron. If he had them, he would've used them.

Sometimes I think we should worry more about Mad Republican Disease--the possibility that some insidious virus has crawled inside your skulls and is eating away at the tiny fungal growth you mistakenly refer to as a brain. You think it's great that the richest people are shoveling money into their personal piggy banks with a bulldozer while you get by on Ramen and turnip greens? Enough that you're willing to vote for John McCain rather than someone who might, by some miracle, decide to do something different than George W. Dipshit?

Oh, wait. You won't vote for a woman or an African-American as President? Why doesn't that surprise me? You, who cheerfully voted for that fake cowboy, that pretend pig-farmer whose only contact with any sort of pig revolves around his friendship with oil company executives?

Pathetic.

I'll tell you, neither Hillary Clinton nor Barack Obama are my first choice for our next President either. But as crazy as it sounds, I think we need to get away from the batshit crazy policies hailed by this bourbon swilling baboon and his crazed and corrupt cronies and move toward a more rational, reasonable approach to foreign and domestic policy that doesn't involve burying our country up to its eyebrows in debt to communist China.

Even given every piece of evidence to the contrary, I can at least hope that one of the two Democrats up for the office will do something to help remedy the situation. The only thing we can expect from McCain is exactly what he's promised us--to carry on the same disastrous ideology and policies that have put us in this absurd situation to begin with.

If hoping for something different...something better...is a crime, Fred, well...find me guilty. At least me and those like me have something to cling to as the ship goes down. All you and your fellows have is someone who bears a remarkable resemblance, politically and diplomatically speaking, to a hundred pound anvil. If he's not guaranteed to take you, and the whole damn ship of state, for that matter, directly to the bottom, I don't know who is.

You're not fooling me, Fred. You'd vote for the neighbor's rabid pitbull 'Killer,' as long as he spouted the same tired rhetoric about tax relief before he started chowing down on your leg.

The only thing McCain has to offer is a veritable smorgasboard of potential disasters. But I suppose there's an upside for you. By the time he'd managed to screw up more than a couple of things, that virus eating what's left of your gray matter will have rendered you incapable of speech and anything approaching rational thought.

Good for you, I suppose, but really bad for the rest of us.

[Adsos Letter]

1. I find you GUILTY...of having a hopeful outlook...

better than tax-evasion, I suppose... :D