Quiet America

Dear George,

It looks like America is too broke to be scared into another Republican administration. You can’t complain, though, you got a good eight years and one reelection out of it. With only six days to go until the election, the chances of something breaking that would scare the shit out of the public are dim.

I blame bin Laden for this. Since 9/11 the guy has shilled for you and your neocons. Okay, he did come out and give McCain a rather tepid endorsement, but he didn’t back it up with any action. Hell, it wouldn’t have taken much—a well-placed pipe bomb would have done the trick.

The one bright spot in this dismal picture is Sarah. There’s some real potential there. She already has the meat-beating demographic tied up. All she needs is a little more crossover appeal and she’ll be a shoo-in in 2012. She’s the perfect candidate: great boobs, sexy smile and not an original thought is her well-coiffured head. She’ll be an easy sell in the land of the arrested adolescent.

I must say, though, her handlers bobbled it when they went on that $150,000 shopping spree in an effort to give her a well-dressed-candidate-of-the-people-whose-really-a-member-of-the-elite look. Put out a clip of her bargain-hunting in a Sears store for her “real” wardrobe.

I know some in your administration are worried about our hollowed out economy becoming a catalyst for social unrest. Not to worry. No red-blooded American is going to head for the barricades as long as an episode of “Dancing with the Stars” is airing. The flickering screens of tubes and computers have the public so fragmented and isolated that is it no longer a public. Rugged individualism has reached its final phase—total isolation and the inability of anyone to think of themselves as belonging to anything.

The chains that bind America are soft strands of multicolored gossamer that caress as they ensnare. The American psyche has been wiped clean of memory and history and is now a blank slate anxious to be inscribed with the runes of power and authority.

Congress is defanged; the left is fragmented and hobbled by the ideological prissiness of its assorted sects and factions. From whence shall the revolution come?

From nowhere, baby, and that’s the beauty of it all.

Your admirer,
Belacqua Jones