Of course there are liberal nerds too, but …
Conservatives must poke fun at liberals. I mean, all those California jokes, along the lines of “Q: How many Californians does it take to screw in a light bulb? A: Five — one to screw the bulb in, and four to share in the experience.” Knee-slappers, every one of them. And who can forget all the jokes about “Governor Moonbeam”?
Being somewhat of liberal temperament, I think conservatives can be real knee-slappers, too. Sarah Palin only has to open her mouth, and I start laughing. And I get major yokkage out of lots of other conservative pols, too, like Rand Paul. Even though I can remember a time when conservatives seemed quite grounded and sane, even though I may not have agreed with their positions, ever since the sainted Ronald Reagan, and then bomb-throwers like Newt Gingrich and ruling-class clowns like Rush Limbaugh, it seems that mental illness, irrational beliefs and impaired logical faculties may be prerequisites for conservative marquee status. And, speaking of bugnuts crazy, don’t even get me started on Glenn Beck, who’s probably going to find his own set of golden plates inscribed in “reformed Egyptian” buried in his backyard once his current denomination catches wise and gives him a well-deserved bum’s rush.
Then, there are the pols who speak without thinking. Like Virginia senatorial shoo-in George Allen, who learned a few years ago that if you’re going to poke fun at someone extemporaneously or tell a joke in the age of YouTube, make sure that it doesn’t turn into a macaca moment that sinks your campaign. And even if you’re going to use media less active, like e-mail, make sure it isn’t something that people can beat you over the head with later, like Virginia Republican official David Bartholomew learned when he passed around the following comedy classic:
“I went down this morning to sign up my Dog for welfare. At first the lady said, ‘Dogs are not eligible to draw welfare.’ So I explained to her that my Dog is black, unemployed, lazy, can’t speak English and has no frigging clue who his Daddy is. So she looked in her policy book to see what it takes to qualify… My Dog gets his first check Friday. Is this a great country or what?”
Naturally, the doggie poop hit the whirling blade once it started making the rounds. Loved the responses on Gawker:
“So I went down this morning to sign up my dog for the Republican nomination. At first the lady said, ‘Dogs are not eligible to be Republicans.’ So I explained to her that my dog is white, functionally and technologically illiterate, aggressive, and threatens other male dogs while mounting them in private. So she looked in her policy book to see what it takes to qualify… My dog gets his first check from Karl Rove on Friday. Is this a great country or what?”
And: “I went down this morning to sign up my cat for the GOP primaries. At first the lady said, ‘Cats are not eligible to help run the United States.’ So I explained to her that my Cat is white, crazy, arrogant, doesn’t give a shit about humanity as long as he gets fed, can’t speak English and has no frigging clue what the First Amendment says. So she looked in her policy book to see what it takes to qualify… My cat is on the ballot for November 2nd. Is this a great country or what?”
Is this a great country or what? Meanwhile, in the great state of California, apparently there was some kind of a kerfluffle over Jerry Brown not hanging up his iPhone properly, and someone he was talking to calling his opponent Meg Whitman a “whore,” which Ms. Whitman, or more accurately Mrs. Harsh, tried to beat Mr. Brown senseless with a metaphorical dildo, or Lead Pipe, in the Study, while Professor Plum and Miss Scarlet were en flagrante delicto in an adjacent boudoir, but again I digress as usual. Anyway, were I a political consultant working for Mr. Brown, I would have suggested the following debate response: “Ms. Whitman, I erred in agreeing with the person who called you a ‘whore.’ Given the context of this election, I would say that your role more accurately would be that of a ‘john,’ and the whores would be the people who co-sign your bullshit and vote for you on November 2.”
Which, of course, is why I’m not employed in politics. —Jackson Griffith