Just Another Girl On The IRT

Freestyle musings from a pseudo-intellectual hellcat in high heels with Huxtable aspirations in a ghetto fab world. Proudly sponsored by bouts of bitchy mood swings, one too many swigs of Turning Leaf, the letters F & U and the madness that is the Rotten Apple.

My Photo
Location: Brooklyn, New York, United States

Work in progress. Neurotic. Daydream believer. Bookworm. Addicted to the arts. Stubborn. Spoiled rotten. Lefty in more ways than one. Pop culture whore. Equal opportunity hater. Kid at heart.

Enter your email address below to subscribe to Just Another Girl On The IRT!

powered by Bloglet
Previous Posts The honor roll... Sidewalk talk... Gossip folks... Know the ledge... The writing's on the wall... Subscribe & syndicate... As the page turns... Recognize the real... Speak your piece... Credits...

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Purpose driven pandering

One of Team Obama's aces up the sleeve both during the campaign and now in the transition, was their meticulous attention to detail. Hardly any ends left to come undone. And when circumstance and coincidence went half on a baby, it produced flashes of brilliance like the majestic finale at Invesco Field on the 45th anniversary of "I Have A Dream," Secretary of Veterans Affairs-designate Eric Shinseki being announced on Pearl Harbor Day and the synchronization of a national call to service with the observance of MLK only 24 hours before taking that historic oath. Classy, creative, not a false note to be found.

However, the announcement of douchenozzle deluxe Rick Warren delivering the inaugural invocation makes me throw a flag on the play for excessive tone deafness.

I mean, Rick fucking Warren?

Do we have to relive the "cone of silence" duplicity at Saddleback all over again?

Was Prop 8 magically overturned and I slept through that news bulletin?

Just... ugh. Talk about the proverbial turd in the punch bowl.

Overtures to the rational wing of evangelicals is a strategy to bridge a gap Democrats haven't been able to narrow for decades. Reaching out to the other 46% of these divided states who didn't cast a ballot for you not only makes perfect sense, it's smart politics. Believe me, at more than a quarter of all registered American voters go, I get it. But at what point does reconciliation lose its privileges?

Why does keeping your enemies closer have to mean validating this bloated snake oil salesman? Seriously, olive branches should not be handed to people who are going to proceed to beat you about the head and shoulders with it.

Barry, take it from a card carrying fag hag. Part of the new job description in fine print is wielding clout to get fringe assholes to stop picking on the outsiders who don't sit at the cool kids table. If reciprocating an invite to the Negro Super Bowl after being welcomed (albeit tepidly) on away territory pushes the ball forward on repealing egregious stains from the era of Clinton like Don't Ask, Don't Tell & the Defense of Marriage Act as promised during the campaign, I'll gladly eat crow. But somehow the flashing neon danger signs surrounding this co-opt via compromise with the Religious Right give me serious pause. And a mild case of acid reflux. I'm hoping for the best while bracing for a shitstorm.

The sands in the patience hourglass is quickly dissipating before the Velvet Mafia revolts to ratchet up another media-assisted fusillade. Two words: Isaiah Washington. Protect your neck.

Labels: , , , ,

link | Shot from the lip by TriniPrincess at 8:32 AM |


Want to Post a Comment?