I don’t profess to be some political pundit. I’m just an ordinary disgruntled Midwesterner who does NOT happen to own a gun yet quite robbed of an appropriate candidate in the Democratic primary. Yeah, yeah, I know….solidarity and all that mess. Bleh.
I’d like to return to the seventies, thank you very much. When men feared women who spoke up, spoke out, voiced ideas, real, concrete establishment-shattering progressiveness. Why? Because I’m tired of living in the alleged contemporary time period when men are no longer supposed to feel threatened by women’s success. I mean, we live in the Age of Aquarius, for God’s sake, and not to sound cliché, but the Neolithic forehead brow is more pronounced on some of the more vocal public figures in the male population than ever anticipated. Oh, yes, examples. I have a great one.
It’s not bad enough that the Democratic Party sold itself to the highest chad bidder during the 2009 primaries around the country, but the very conservatives who embraced her as opposition to John McCain have collared her for one of the absolute dirtiest dog fights possibly in political history. The GOP realizes, don’t they, that he time is not all consumed by actually running the White House? That she can and will defend herself as the “female dog” they believe her to be?
In case this tidbit has escaped you, once the in-house insult of the Democratic Party allowing independents to backdoor her with Obama had settled and the task of putting to right 8 long years of absolute economic wrong-doing had begun, the GOP unleashed its newest three-headed Cerberus-- Hillary: The Movie. Though the GOP professes it’s not campaign-related, just “documentary,” the Supreme Court will rule on this one finally after many months. Original exposure was cut short due to the unsportsmanlike conduct of the GOP in the first place. How unexpected for them.
I’m not sure how this will all shake out for Michael Moore’s celluloid future, but it seems that David Bossie might begin his next “documentary” with a lesson in tact from Moore first. Who needs dour-looking old farts in long black robes at the next Hollywood premiere, after all?
