A Journal of Humor and Verbal Anarchy

 
Your father's politics

Hey, man, what's to become with "Generation Dean" when the Doctor throws in the proverbial towel next week and goes back to making skads of cash, prescribing little purple pills? Hell, with his newly won name brand recognition, he'll be endorsing those little purple pills on tv, for christsakes. Maybe start a diet craze, manufacture dietetic donuts, sign a big fat contract with KFC to push Dr. Dean's heart-friendly chicken wings.

But what's to happen to all those college students who got suckered into believing for a brief shining momnet that they could actually 'take back the White House' or 'make a difference'? You know, cyberdemocracy, teen populism, rah,rah. They swarmed over Iowa and New Hampshire, made signs, attended rallies, worked the phones, e-mailed until their brains fell out, networking far into the wee hours of the morning. No time even for downloading MP3 files let alone for sex. They propelled the Doctor into front runner status, got him on the cover of Time, turned Dr, Dean into an instant American icon.

Suddenly, their father's politics roared out of the garage like a turbo-charged 2004
Cadillac DeVille. The big haired Democratic senator from Mass, swimming in a tidal wave of catsup money, flush with all the political credit earned from 18 years of smoozing with lobbyists, doing favors for insurance companies and corporate interests. Hell, look at the skyline of Boston. How many billions of dollars worth of bacon did Sen. Kerry bring back to his home state, transforming Bean Town into a yuppie Shang-ri-la? Compare that to the Doc's record as guv of the Ben & Jerry state. Signing the nation's first civil union legislation may have helped the justice of the peace industry, filled up some motel rooms now and again with honeymooners, but we're not talking about bringing home Big Macs with Bacon here. We're talking about a lousy pint of Rocky Road ice cream. The $40 million Doc Dean collected from small donors on the internet wouldn't even fill up one of the bathrooms in John Kerry's political mansion.

Hey, don't feel so bad. Generation Dean. Every generation gets lied to. All the new kids on the block start out by chasing cardboard heroes, pop icons, instant -whipped Messiahs from the Cracker Jack box of history. Look at the 60's generation, for christsakes. Your father's generation. They worshipped at the shrines of big haired millionaire Democats, muttering the mantras of 'ask not what your country can do for you.' and 'you can make a difference.' A couple of assassin's bullets later, they eventually did fall into line and accept the status quo. The guys who dominated the scene back then, during this period of so-called political adulthood, were all old fogies from their dads' generations - guys who had served in WW2, gone to Washington as political freshmen back in the McCarthy era, paid their dues in the CIA, or in Hollywood - you know, guys who had worked the ropes.

So, Generation Dean, Ez's advice is to go home, hit the books, get well-paying jobs and settle down until you can afford a real presidential candidate of your own.

Comments invited at: ezrakidder@gmail.com - Peace, Ezra at 7:52 AM