Friday, January 23, 2004

 

DON'T BELIEVE THE LIES THEY SHOWED YOU!

I have a friend who does security for two floors at ABC, and he told me that Diane Sawyer’s interview with Howard Dean was total bull. He provided me with a transcript of the real interview, before they fixed it up with computers. Because I’m so handsome, I pass it on to you.

THE REAL DIANE SAWYER-HOWARD DEAN INTERVIEW

Read The Lies Here

posted by Dan 1:37 PM
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Thursday, January 22, 2004

 

The Story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears That I Act Out Every Day With Teddy Bears and A Ballerina Rabbit Puppet, For the Benefit Of, and With Emendations By, My Two Year Old Daughter, Let’s Call Her Josie

Okay, do we have the porridge bowls? And the chairs, we need the...oh, that’s gonna be Mama Bear’s chair this time? Fine, and -- yes, you get to hold Baby Bear, Josie. Okay. Okay.

Once upon a time, there were Three Bears: The Poppa Bear -- hello Poppa Bear, The Mama Bear -- hello Mama Bear, and little Baby Bear -- yes, Josie kisses Baby Bear. Yes, I’ll kiss him too. Mwa. The Three Bears were sitting down to breakfast. Poppa Bear tasted the porridge...oh, Baby Bear ate all his porridge? But it was too hot, you see, so he burned his tongue. Yes, right, his tongue. Yes, that’s Josie’s tongue. What a long tongue you have. Okay, put your tongue back in your mouth, that’s gross.

So Mama Bear said, “I know what we’ll do, we’ll go for a...?” That’s right, a walk. A walk in the woods. So they put on their hats, their coats, and their boots...what? They put on their party shoes? I see that you have your party shoes on, but I don’t think red shiny Mary Janes are appropriate footwear for a hike in the...fine, they put on their red shiny party shoes. Even Poppa Bear. And they all went for a walk in the woods. Okay...okay, first Baby Bear knocked on the door to his own house, for reasons that still elude me. “C’mon Baby Bear!” said Mama Bear. And they sang their song as they walked:

[at the top of our lungs, marching around the dining room table:]

Here I go a-wandering, along the mountain track,
and as I go, I love to sing with a knapsack on my back!
Fal-da-reeeee, fal-da-raaaaaaa, fal-da-reeeeee, fal-da-
[prancing:]
ra-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
[marching again:]
Fal-da-ree, fal-da-raa, fal-da-ree, fal-da-
[mincing:]
ra-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaaaa...

So the Three Bears climbed to the top of a mountain, sat down, and looked at the beautiful view of the forest. Josie looks too, yes. And far below, they heard lovely singing, and who was singing? That’s right, Twyla the Ballerina Rabbit Puppet, who’s playing Goldilocks. Yes, I’ll put Twyla on you hand. Twyla -- I mean Goldilocks was hopping through the woods...hop-hop-hop..and she came to the Three Bears...hop-hop-hop, yes...and she came to the...yes, hop-hop-hop...and she...she was done with the hopping, and she knocked on the door. Very good, knock-knock! “Hellooo,” she called, “is anybody home?” But nobody was...what do you mean yes? Somebody’s home? Who’s home? The Three Bears? Aren’t they over on the mountain? No -- I mean, yes it’s the Three Bear’s home...this house is their home, but they aren’t home, meaning...look, it’s complicated. There’s nobody in the house, Goldilocks breaks in.

And there were three delicious looking bowls of porridge sitting on the table! So Goldilocks went to Poppa Bear’s bowl and...okay, she went straight to Baby Bear’s bowl, and his porridge tasted just right, but then for the heck of it she tried Poppa and Mama’s porridge...to hot, too cold, they suck, she’s gonna go with Baby Bear’s porridge. She ate it all up.

Goldilocks was full, so she looked for a chair to sit in. She sat down in Poppa Bear’s...okay, cut to sitting down in Baby Bear’s chair, and it was just right, and she started rocking, and she knocked over the chair -- careful! -- she knocked over the chair, and it broke. She broke it, yes. Yes, you can fix it. Not now, later.

Goldilocks was tired, so she went upstairs to look for a place to sleep. First she lay down in Poppa Bear’s bed...which -- okay -- is your bucket of blocks. But Poppa Bear’s bed was too hard...and pointy too, I guess. Then she lay down in Mama Bear’s bed...okay, the xylophone. Mama bear’s bed was too...musical. Then she lay down in Baby Bear’s bed, which is this nice blanket...not the blanket? The lunchbox? I don’t know where the lunchbox is. All right, hold on a sec...[rummage for a minute]...okay, here’s the lunchbox. She lay down in Baby Bear’s bed -- in the lunchbox -- and went to sleep. And Josie closed the lid on the lunchbox, shutting Goldilocks in a small metal container. Excelsior. To think I fought to keep your mom from letting you sleep in a drawer.

Meanwhile, the Three Bears came back. They came down from the mountain. Josie, come get Baby Bear...oh...oh I see. All right. Meanwhile Josie the FixIt Girl came to the Three Bear’s house to do some work on the water heater, and she saw that Baby Bear’s chair was broken, so she fixed it. When the Three Bears came home, they said, “Thank you, Josie, for fixing the chair!” Baby Bear said, “Thank you, Josie.” Yes, and he gave her a kiss. Yes, and I gave him a kiss. Mwa. “But Josie,” said Poppa Bear, “who broke the chair?” Who broke it, Josie? Yes, I know you fixed it. Thank you. But who broke it? Was it Goldilocks? No, huh? Okay, I don’t know why you’re covering for her...then Momma Bear saw that the something was wrong with their breakfast. “Somebody’s been eating my porridge!” said Mamma...all right, and Josie took some of Mamma Bear’s porridge, and some of Poppa Bear’s porridge, and put it in Baby Bear’s bowl, and Baby Bear ate it all up, and he never knew that somebody had been eating his porridge. No, it wasn’t too hot. No, he didn’t burn his tongue. Yes, I see your tongue.

Then, from upstairs, they heard snoring. Poppa Bear said, “Let’s go investigate!” So they tiptoed up the stairs and Poppa Bear looked in his bead and said “Somebody’s been sleeping in my bed” and Mamma Bear looked in her bed and said “Somebody’s been sleeping in my bed” and Baby Bear looked in his bed and said “Somebody’s been sleeping in my bed and THERE SHE IS!” [gasp for breath] And then Mamma Bear said...okay, and then Josie took Goldilocks out of the lunchbox, and put Baby Bear in. And closed the lid. Good night, Baby Bear. And then Mamma Bear said...okay, and then Josie woke Baby Bear up, and took him out of the lunchbox. And then Mamma Bear said...okay, and then Baby Bear and Goldilocks hopped away. Hop-hop-hop-hop-hop...I guess Mamma and Poppa Bear were cool with the whole breaking-and-entering thing.

The End

posted by Dan 12:46 PM
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Tuesday, January 20, 2004

 

Tuesday Morning Quarterback

It’s a theory I’ve held privately for a few years. Shared it with some close friends. Tinkered with it to pass the time waiting for the subway. I think it’s time to unveil it to the public, now, in light of last night’s caucus. Lord knows, the world would plunge into Australian 426-hemi anarchy without the benefit of my wisdom. Here’s the pearl:

The man who wins the presidency is the man who the swing voters would rather have at the barbecue.

Call it the Grill Factor.

Platforms don’t matter. Endorsements don’t matter. Debates only matter in that they allow the swing voters to imagine the podiums are gas grills, and the candidates are competitively charring sirloin. If your ideas aren’t too loony and your scandals aren’t too shocking, you’re in if you seem at home on the family patio.

The barbecue setting is important because the barbecue is both a great American pleasure unto itself, and the ideal nation-state in miniature (I’ll assume you agree, because if you don’t, there’s something deeply wrong with you, and you should go live in a cave, surviving on bat guano). A great barbecue guest has the same qualities as a great president. They’re both respectful and comfortable with your home (domestic policy); able to hold a conversation with any of the other guests and willing to help with the drunks (foreign policy); and they can turn a pile of lumps into a furnace for the divine (relations with the legislature). Happy is the ‘cue with such a guest, happy the state with such a leader. Of course, no guest ever achieves this Aristotelian ideal, nor does any hopeful to the Oval Office. So, the voters imagine the guys aren’t in front of flags, but behind the Coleman, and they pick whoever looks closest to perfection.

I’ll demonstrate how this applies to Iowa, but first I want to crack the 20th-Century history book. I’m cracking the 20th-Century history book because I never opened it, because none of my history classes ever made it past the assassination of James Garfield. This included my course in All The Stuff After Garfield Caught One In The Breadbasket 402.

Start with the 1960 election, and move forward. 1960 was big because it featured the first televised debate. That meant Americans could watch their candidates in action. No trooping down to the tracks to watch some waving guy blow through on his whistle-stop campaign. Joe and Jane Swingvoter (not their real names) could imagine the candidates in their house, interacting with their children, cranking their Percy Faith. Important questions could be answered, like "If candidate X sprays a little wide from the bowl, does he/she wipe the seat?" At last, America could picture candidates peeing, without the benefit of ‘ludes.

It’s important to remember this, because Kennedy didn’t win because he was cuter, contrary to what they teach in Kennedy Was Cuter 212. Kennedy won because he seemed like the nicer guy. Nixon was the old weirdo at whom the dog barked anxiously. Kennedy would flip the patties while you went inside for the bottle of A-1 sauce. He’d also try to nail someone’s wife, but that’s our Jack!

Summaries of the following elections, according to Grill Factor:

1964 - JOHNSON vs. GOLDWATER: I’ve done a lot of research on Johnson, made up of repeated viewings of his cameo in “The Right Stuff.” It is both my own educated opinion and the accepted wisdom of historians that he was a Grade A-hole. That whole War on Poverty thing didn’t come off as an altruistic crusade. In barbecue terms, it was some guy haranguing you for not giving money to The March Of Dimes. However, Johnson won, so why doesn’t this sink the theory? Because the candidate doesn’t have to be a good barbecue guest, just better than the other guy. In this case, the other guy was Barry Goldwater. Goldwater didn’t bug you about the MofD, but he did suggest that someone torch the lawn of that dirty foreign family that let their grass get so long. Several times. Not in an evil-jokey way, either. There are certain things you don’t say aloud at a barbecue, never mind that everyone’s thinking them. Nuking those cheeky Vietnamese is one.

1968 - HUMPHREY vs. NIXON: Here’s another example illustrating my point that it’s not who’s the perfect guest, it’s who’s the better guest. Nixon made the dog bark, but the dog bit Humphrey with impunity. Why? There was something fundamentally soft about Humphrey. He seemed smart. You wanted him to be a man, but he didn’t act like one. Earlier in the ‘cue, Johnson drank too many Buds and started pouring kerosene on that foreign family’s lawn. Humphrey didn’t help stuff him into the cab until the fool was halfway inside. Soft.

1972 - McGOVERN vs. NIXON: Once again, Dick got a by due to his opponent being such a mess. It’s important to note that the Grill Factor doesn’t necessarily win you the primary. It plays a part, but it’s not the deciding feature. Any lucky, charismatic nutbar can win a primary. McGovern was like that guy your friend tells you to invite: “Dude, you gotta have this guy over! He’s the most!” So you invited him, and he ended up sitting in the corner and not saying much, or hovering over the shrimp, eating twelve before someone else got a chance. He may have been Gandhi, but he Does Not Play Well With Others. Nixon at least tried to tell a joke, even if it was about Bob the Swimming Quad. Plus, he was tough on that foreign family and their damn lawn.

1976 - CARTER vs. FORD: This may have seemed like a Lilliputian skirmish, but it was in fact the Clash of Titans. The closeness of the vote reflected this. Forget the Chevy Chase non-impression, forget the buck-toothed editorial caricatures, both of them were fellas from up the street. So John and Jane Swingvoter (their real names) split their vote, leaving Cindy Stupidname (my great aunt) to cast for Carter.

1980 - CARTER vs. REAGAN: So what happened to the fella from up the street? Well, given the choice, who would you rather have at the barbecue: the nice fella, or the movie star? Don’t lie to me. Go live in the cave, bat guano, &c.

1984 - MONDALE vs. REAGAN: This was the first election I ever participated in. Though I was too young to vote, I passed leaflets for Jesse Jackson in the primaries, and then for Mondale in the general election. I hated Reagan like he was God’s gift to Hitler. As with all silly young people, I saw the defining issue as issues, not image. I was therefore unable to see that I was stumping for a man with the personality of a desk calendar. Plus, Reagan was a movie star. After the election, I developed a taste for guano.

1988 - DUKAKIS vs. BUSH: You know that friend who’s perfectly nice, but talks a little too full of himself, makes stupid jokes, seems wimpy, and just generally embarrasses themselves, and, by association, you? People gave you looks when you mentioned inviting him to the ‘cue. Maybe you should have lost his number. You hope to God he didn't do something stupid, like pose for photos in a military vehicle. Anyway, that’s Bush. Dukakis, on the other hand, wanted to give Willie Horton the keys to your new Miatta. That’s what Bush said, anyway.

1992 - CLINTON vs. BUSH: There he was, the barbecue guest par excellence. Funny, goofily charming, obviously loves him some red meat. No contest to the swing voter. He nailed somebody’s daughter, but that’s our Bubba!

1996 - CLINTON vs. DOLE: Again with the creepy old man upsetting the dog. The Republicans need to put a dog next to each candidate during the primaries. It’d save them a lot of trouble.

2000 - GORE vs. BUSH: Another Clash of the Titans, and the most exciting election night I’ve ever experienced. Their supposed flaws were not what cinched it in the end. Sure, Gore was a know-it-all, but how much of a Poindexter can be he, lurching around in that Frankenstein body of his? Bush was a poor-little-rich-boy, but he seems like a guy who finally straightened himself out. In this campaign, what did in Gore was that horrible kiss with Tipper. Making out with your wife at a barbecue? Dude, that is such an act.

This brings me, in my signature long-winded style, to the Iowa caucus. Dean was coming off as a hothead in the Johnson mold, and Kerry and especially Edwards were able to capitalize. Kerry would lend you his truck, and Edwards would too, plus he’s cute, according to the new Barbara Tuchman book "Edwards The Hottie." It’s a long campaign though, and Brian provides historical perspective. Dean could still win the nomination, but last night the grill factor played large. Use it in November to back the winning horse. Then butcher the horse, light the coals, and call me.

posted by Dan 1:44 PM
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