So I Was Wrong [Sep 3, 2004]

As the dawn leaks slowly above the summit of Mount Winchester, causing the silver jumping fish of my beloved estuary to glint with the hope of promise forgotten, I sit on my balcony, aghast, chastened, morally defeated, and ashamed. What’s happened to the Republican Party I once cherished so? It’s hard for me to believe that the people who, until Monday, I trusted to launch American into a new kick-ass future, are the same people who just spent the last week equating an admittedly lame but basically harmless Democratic Senator with the Prince Of Darkness himself. And I don’t mean Karl Marx. I mean Satan. Beezelbub. The Horned One. He Who Shall Not Be Named.

Shudder.

That said, President Bush’s speech last night was a classic. I agreed with just about everything in it, particularly the stuff about dismantling our Social Security system and how bringing freedom to the world was a mission that had been handed to America by God. I could imagine the President’s deltoids rippling just below his undershirt. As always, he was a Hot-n-Sexy dish.

But nothing Bush said could undo the damage done by Zell Miller’s speech the previous night. It was an oratorical concoction so vile, so loathsome, so utterly slanderous and hate-filled, that it could only have been delivered by the leader of Lizard-People who have invaded our planet, causing us to surreptitiously spray-paint the letter V at midnight on warehouse doors. I simply can’t brook this cornpone fascism, even though I expressed nearly identical views three years ago, albeit in far loftier and pretentious language, calling those who criticized the early stages of our War On Terror “traitors worthy of imminent execution, especially Susan Sontag, that scum-sucking pus hag.”

Oh, Republicans! Oh, Republic! Whither has flown your integrity? I can no longer support that party that denies the right of marriage to some of its country’s best-looking men and sturdiest women. I can no longer support the party that intends to funnel billions of dollars into the coffers of crappy, hypocritical churches, the offshore bank accounts of arrogant plutocrats, and private armies that fight for no one’s interests but their own. And I can no longer support the party that refers to poor people as “girlie men.” Those of us who genuinely consider ourselves girlie men take umbrage at your implication, sir!

The war in Iraq isn’t going as poorly as its critics imply. After all, not everyone is dead yet. Also, there’s no doubt that the mullahs of Iran are doing everything they can to invite devastating airstrikes on their capital. Bang, bang. You’re dead. But good lord, people. It isn’t a crime to oppose the President, even one who climbs a pile of rubble to hug an old fireman, even one who “becomes who he is” after throwing out the first pitch of a World Series game.

Writing is always hard for me, because my writing is so good, but these words that I’m about to write are very hard for me. It’s with great sorrow and greater pity that I announce that I cannot support President Bush, whose image I have masturbated to countless times, this fall. If that statement contradicts some of what I’ve said in this essay thus far or everything I’ve said or written for the past four years, well, I can’t help it if I have a complicated and fascinating mind.

But neither can I support his challenger. Indeed, my faith in human events has been so shaken by the failures of the war in Iraq and by the bile of this Presidential campaign that I feel I can no longer go on.

Roger, hold my calls and alert the media. The ground below invites me to paint it with my brains. Goodbye, sweet world, and sweet Republican Party. This is the end, of my life and of America. I wish you luck, suckers.

And now, I die.