Dylan Cormack

I guess I’d had a bad feeling about the whole thing from the moment I’d seen the teletext on the airport flatscreen back in that September air: “Pelosi — we have a deal.” Jesus. That’s horrible to even think about in today’s climate.

Looking back on that scene is like looking at a crowd of idle jesters with a Metor careening over the skyline overhead. If you’d listened to the report CNN put out that day you would’ve thought that the vote itself was a mere glorious formality, and that our capitalism was all but fixed and saved. Then I read the thing.

Yeah, I read it. It had a dank stink to it that I couldn’t describe. There were no specifics, and there was no substance; a thing totally open to interpretation; an animal of no instinct or nature. Just cold politics with a hot breath on the public, a fine mist that hung over their eyes just long enough to let the creeps get away. An old joke on the people it was about to rape.

Fuck, I thought. The end is near.

Now, who-knows-how-many-billion dollars into the affair and so many other mad accusations thrown into this mess that I’ve had to buy two full-length books to wrap my mind around it and I’m still sorting through all the names. By the way, please note that in order to cover my expenses for these extra efforts, I will have to charge a small fee of $5, that can be payable by PayPal, even if you don’t have an account. The fee can be payed right after you finish reading the article…

What? No, sorry. That was a scam I ran into on craigslist the other day, but we won’t have any of that here. Those evil bastards could probably give the DOJ a run for their money, eh?

Anyway, the same senseless monsters that managed to get the economy from trillions in surplus to a full one-eighty in the red in just two administrations are now driving some of the efforts at opposing Obama’s massive relief efforts, spending projects, federal budget…whatever label you want to put on it. And all the crazy talk has dropped us off here, where the rubber meets the asphault, and the crazy meets the news. In a half-mad fury of head-turning craziness, Chris Matthews, of all the spinning, talking faces, refused to let that god-damned waterhead, Tom DeLay, get away with smooth talking nonsense about “fighting like a Texan”.

“You can’t se_CEED_ from the _UN_ion,” Matthews said, talking right over DeLay’s crap. “That’s the kind of talk we heard in 1861. Why are you talking like this, Tom?” He dropped his tone a bit, seemed disappointed. “Mr. DeLay, you know this isn’t a real conversation. This is not serious business.”

Which begs the question: what the hell happened to Chris Matthews that he suddenly decided to quit the machete game to become a journalist, eh? Did he just like Obama that much? Did he stop yelling long enough to discard the talking points from the White House and stand now where he belongs — between the executive and the legislative branches, shielding the people?

Well, once again, we’re back to that basic question, aren’t we? What side are you on?

Ain’t nothing rhetorical about it, kids. Get yourselves an answer.

https://facebook.com/dylan.cormack.1 Dylan Cormack

Dylan is our political correspondent, bold and fiery as his fuse is short. He is a well-read, on-location kind of writer and is no stranger to travel. Intimately familiar with many distant and dark corners of the Earth, Dylan brings a new kind of blood to his vicious style of journalism. He sends us his words, notes and effusive rants of observation, commentary and occasional judgement.

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