A Journal of Humor and Verbal Anarchy

 
Politicos

Words slip in and out of usage like neckties, consigned for decades to a forgotten corner of the language closet , only to be retrieved and matched improbably with some new outfit. The retrofit is often tenuous at best. Like a Gen Z'er showing up in public wearing a tie with a black, heavy metal Goth-style, death head t-shirt or whatever. You get the picture. Ez has no idea what Gen Z'ers wear.

Take for example the expression "populism" which has mysteriously crept back into vogue for the 2004 political season. Populism conjures up the America of the 1890's, William Jennings Bryan, free silver, the excitement of massive outdoor political gatherings. Read Vachel Lindsey's poem "Bryan" for a time machine trip back to a more innocent era before tv and the internet.

Ezra just doesn't see what the pundits are talking about when they describe a sharp-tongued, stiff-necked former pill pusher from Vermont as a populist. Or, for that matter, a well-coiffed, old money Senator from Mass who's been riding the congressional golf cart to and from lunches with lobbyists for 15 years Who's the populist? Dennis Kucinich - who looks rather uncomfortable and not a little wooden in that ill-fitting hair piece, hobnobbing with Shirley Maclaine and the California incense and Roll Royce set? Do you know why Kucinich won the Hawaii primary? Because all the old hippies who made a fortune peddling tofu pups or natural ice cream at Grateful Dead concerts moved there so they could smoke a little weed out on the beach as the big sun goes down over the Pacific Ocean. Kucinich is a Ben & Jerry Democrat and now he can be a force at the convention with his 8 Aloha delegates.

It takes $120 million to be prez of these United States and no populist could raise that much money without kissing 1.2 million babies or shaking the same amount of hands and ending up in a full body cast with a bad case of diaper rash or muscular dystrophy.

Let's face it, the term populist doesn't fit anymore. According to Francis Fukuyama, we're at the end of history. The Cold War is over, the titanic struggle between Marxism and Capitalism for the hearts and souls of the masses is finito benito, the little guy doesn't matter anymore and everyone is plugged into some kind of electronic interface or other to get their marching orders from Wall St. or Hollywood.

It doesn't matter who you vote for. The election has already been decided and, quite frankly, no cares what you think about the issues. Chances are that if you're 40 or even 50 now, you won't be able to count on Social Security, no - you're have to work as a security guard at Wal-mart until the day you croak, or worse, you'll be picking cans and bottles out of dumpsters to afford your heart medication, or even worse, they'll just let you die because in the great Malthusian scheme of things, access to health care is the great population reducer. Retirement is going to be a luxury in 20 years. You should enjoy life now while you're still working. Take longer coffee breaks. Slack off. Take the week off.

So, be Era's guest. Get out there on your street corners, Ithacans, waving your little signs and banners at motorists. The Democratic primary in NY is Tuesday. Make a difference.
Comments invited at: ezrakidder@gmail.com - Peace, Ezra at 6:28 AM