Wednesday, September 29, 2004

 

Guest Star Day III

Its time to retire the Jack-Ass!

by guest-blogger Matt Cody



Everyone is saying that we need a revolution within the Democratic party. In the wake of a machismo- fueled, neo-con GOP convention, we Democrats are scrambling to affirm our own butchness. In a post-911 world, the socially progressive pacifist politics of the far left are a poor shield against McCain and Conan the Destroyer.

Of course we tried. We even punched first, dammit America didn’t you see our convention? We saluted! We are running a decorated Vietnam Vet for president who is endorsed by a former NATO Supreme Allied Commander! Hell, just typing that sentence makes me feel like kicking ass with a combat boot. This is the Democrat’s dream. Serious military cred backing the not-so-good-at-sports party.

But alas, like Dukakis in a tank, we tanked. We threw down the gauntlet to the Republicans, we rode out to battle on Shining White Steeds to face the Grand Old Mastodons and what happened? When they pulled out THEIR big guns and smear machine and dropped ALL of their balloons what did we do?

Why, we hugged the nearest tree, closed our eyes and took it like a man. You know, its not the right wing sodomy I so much mind, it’s the running start.

But why is it this way? Why is it that whenever we try to match them on defense, on toughness, we get our asses handed right back to us? What is it about the identity of the Democratic Party that makes us so Charlie Brownish about being tough?

Well I think it’s the damn donkey. Really, I mean it. I’m being semi-serious here. Let me explain:

We live in a nation hard-wired to subliminal advertising. Television and magazines assail us with attractive spokespeople for even the most unattractive products. It’s gone so far that I am no longer afraid of erectile dysfunction, because I feel too homely to fall victim to it. Television has taught me that ED (as the cool kids call it) affects really good looking people in soft-lighting and hot tubs. And they seem very happy about having it. Apparently there are a lot of men with ED having a really good time and I am missing out on it.

So it figures that when people look at the two parties and they see our respective mascots, they react as they are trained to - On the one hand you have the elephant, not exactly a sexy animal, but certainly powerful. And it’s got plenty of positive connotations – noble, long-lived, good memories (no Reagan jokes here, please). Yeah, if the karmic wheel turned round and left me as an elephant, I’d be pretty pleased.

Then there is the donkey. The mule. The jack-ass. Also not sexy, (no West Virginia jokes here, please). And let’s examine the associative qualities, shall we? Loud. Stubborn. Funny-looking. Beast of burden. An annoying creature that carries shit for other people? Go Team!

Now before you history aficionados start lecturing me on the origins of each mascot, and how they emerged from the political cartoons of the 19th century and blah, blah, blah, I say this - so what? Just cause some muck-raking yellow journalists in stove-pipe hats assigned us a crappy mascot doesn’t mean we have to stick with it. This is America dammit! Let’s vote ourselves a real mascot, one that says, “We are democrats, and WE WOULD EAT BABIES IF IT MEANT KEEPING AMERICA SAFE!”

Now I recognize that there is a danger here, because obviously if we vote ourselves a cooler mascot, the Republicans will get hip to the scheme and do the same (anyone remember when WE were the compassionate party?) So yes, there is the risk of an animal arms race, a war of mascot escalation, if you will. We could vote in say, a wolf (cool huh?) and then the next week they could vote in a lion (d’oh!). But I’ve though long and hard on this and I have the solution is - we go straight for the jugular now. We begin by voting for the absolute coolest, cooler than yours by infinity plus one mascot of all. . . . .

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I hereby propose that the Democratic Party retire the Donkey and become the Party of the Dragon.

See? The Dragon! That’s fucking cool. Think about it. It’s 2008, and in the great convention hall are thousands of delegates waving around Styrofoam dragon claws. When our candidate ascends the dais we let out a mighty dragon roar in show of support. You want tough? Just watch us rain fiery death upon the opposition.

You wanna play Hardball Mr. Matthews? Fine, but you’re playing against the Dragon, baby!

* * *

Matt Cody is an actor and writer who lives in NYC with his lovely fiancee
and two cats. So far he has driven one of the cats to Prozac. The others
are sure to follow.

posted by Dan 11:21 AM
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