I gave her this prestigious award.  I’m such a giver!

Saint Coco once observed: “Luxury is not the opposite of poverty. It is the opposite of vulgarity.” Had Miss Chanel stuck around to witness recent town hall meetings in America, she would have emphatically concluded that this country is in desperate need of some luxury. Code Bleu! Honestly, such a shocking parade of nasty, angry, vulgar people! The very people who not only didn’t mind, but cheered, when our big government got even bigger by slapping several trillion dollars on a Chinese VISA card, all for a vanity war, are now seething over spending a fraction of that amount on the frivolity of keeping Americans alive.

Apparently, after consulting Jesus (“What would you do, say, if you thought all your own socialistic teachings were garbage, Lord?”), they realized it is more important to spend money we don’t have to keep foreigners dead than to keep Americans alive. Now, it’s not for me to question what Jesus told them because, well frankly, He says a lot of things, much of which He doesn’t even mean (one hopes), but I do know that He never told them dress like that!  In any event, an exasperated Jesus doodled the following graphic after several days of apoplectic prayers from His agitated, vulgar flock:

THEATER REVIEW:

“Healthscare!”  — A Republican Road Show

Yesterday, Jesus and I attended a performance of the dramatic sensation that is sweeping the nation: a theater-in-the-unfound production of “Healthscare!“  It’s a boisterous Republican-produced melodrama, currently in out-of-town tryouts, being performed at town hall meetings throughout America. As a parade of amateur actors dutifully recited their tortuous lines of sputtering outrage, performed as a geek chorus, more frenzied chants than coherent dialogue, I nudged my nodding-off Savior and muttered: “Honestly, if I’m going to be amused by such scenery chewing pathos, I’d rather see a sobbing Glenn Beck as Medea!”

During the tediously long review, choreographed crazies erupted on cue every time a politician opens his mouth to talk about healthcare. The dialogue and delivery were so over-wrought and under-thought, before the 67th encore, Jesus and I were reaching for our souvenir talking-points program and jealously eying the exits. Frankly, any corybantic catfight on The Real Housewives of Atlanta has more authenticity — and dignity — than the snarling cue card recitations of the Healthcare Industry Players.  And it’s not as if Jesus is put off by a little psychotic hysteria.  As you will recall, He was recently the first person since 1985 to say “no” to Michael Jackson.

But, speaking of entertainment that has passed its “BEST BY” date, when did American political drama’s plots become so predictable, its scripts so sloppy?  You will be able to predict every word that every character says once the first apoplectic actor has delivered his first angry monologue, so given to simple-minded repetition is the playwright.  According to the monotonous script, every single character hates every single word President Obama says, a dull contrivance that leeches every bit of dramatic suspense from each line, making for a rather dull afternoon of theater! And any hope for a better second act is quickly deflated once you realized that the cast will also hate every single thing the President says in every subsequent scene, no matter what it is he actually winds up saying.

Politics has always been theater. But when did its production values slide so precipitously into a self-indulgent, repetitive chorus that only skirts banality by hinting at insanity? Since our last socialist president, FDR, our ovations have drifted from civic acts to circus acts. When did we go from a president who pretends he can stand to a citizenry that pretends it can’t stand anything?

Now, don’t get us wrong: As American Christians, Jesus and I both believe that when a child gets healthcare, an angel loses its virginity — or, worse, its concealed weapon.  Redirecting dollars from arming bombs to vaccinating arms is clearly the work of a wicked, hateful Socialist Satan! (Or is that a Fascist Fallen Angel?  Honestly, as Republicans, we don’t get all liberal-elite,  fact-obsessed when it comes to what pejorative labels for unfashionable ideologies really mean!)

Nevertheless, this Republican road show of rage, with its cheap set, set script and unsettling cast, needs to close out of town before it reaches that big burlesque theater on Capitol Hill. After all, rednecks who hanker to become unglued in public so that rich people can make even more money off them will always have Dr. Phil! But this tedious traveling show has all the spontaneity of a Tom Cruise remark, the sincerity of a Bachelor or Bachelorette proposal and the restraint of a community theater production of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?  And just as with community theater, in this vanity production, it seems as if the only people having fun are the screaming hams hogging the stage.

A NOTE FROM BETTY: Allow me to introduce Prophetess Debbie, who goes to my church, Landover Baptist. Frankly, I became so utterly vexed with my Savior (and that dreadful hick from Alaska) pestering me while I shopped at Neiman-Marcus (it was nothing short of salvation stalking!), I hired Prophetess Debbie to act as a go-between, at least until I’ve finished my holiday shopping. In this way, I will treat my Debbie as the Catholics treat their Mary, as a glorified gofer to take messages to the Lord. A word of warning: Prophetess Debbie tends to speak with unseemly candor. She fails to couch her Republican thoughts in the politically correct, focus-group tested phrases that more sophisticated, savvy right-wing Christians — me! — instinctively employ. In other words, she says thing publicly that are best left behind thick church doors. But please bear with me: There really isn’t a wide selection when it comes to Baptist prophetesses this late in the season!

Hey, you all! Now, darling, I know, in the wake of that sad little election we just had us, this is a time when our country is rightfully resentful of the usurpation of godly-ordained Republican power by Satan’s stooge, the Anti-Christ Barrack Hussein Muhammad Ali Baba Obama. In such a stressful (end) time, it is easy to concentrate on all the bad things dark people do. I would join you, but I simply don’t have that kind of time. But, good gravy, I’m not trying to stop you all from that very healthy, cathartic, truly Republican undertaking.

Instead, what I would like to do is to provide a little balance. You see, the Lord Jesus came to me while I was in the powder room at The Olive Garden (which, I assume, he confused for the Garden of Olives), and He reminded me that people “of color” are not always off color and are surprisingly capable of moments of Christian righteousness.  My stars, He made them sound almost like real, actual Christians!  LOL!!!!!

For example, Proposition 8, banning so-called “gay marriage” in California only passed thanks to the overwhelming support of colored Californians. The sad truth is that, if left to white people, homos in that state would still be free to pretend to be joined in their disgusting “marriages,” the very thought of which make me want to vomit up countless garlicky breadsticks.

To be honest, I was worried that, due to their supposed struggles (dear Lord, when will ever hear the end of that?), Negroes would be more susceptible to choosing so-called “civil rights” over Jewish law. (And, between us chickens, I was also a tish concerned that they would realize that scrupulously enforcing the rules of the Old Testament would open the door to going back to giving the Lord’s helpful hints on beating your slaves in Exodus another go!) Fortunately, I found that most Blacks (or whatever it is they like to be called this week! LOL!) are apt to only fuss over their own so-called “civil rights” and were happy to squash the so-called civil rights of homos, as Jesus would have commanded, had He gotten around to remembering how much He loathes them and everything!

So join me and Jesus in saying, “Thank you, you darling, precious people of colors for giving the homos what for!  But, just so we are clear: This still doesn’t make us even on the whole black president thing. OK?” 

Meet Tonya Jenkins. She died of shock this morning. You see, the poor thing had spent the past two years getting all of her information from Sean Hannity. She would then go to her favorite website, Free Republic, and read thousands and thousands and thousands of vitriolic posts, all containing no facts inconsistent with Mr. Hannity’s and no opinions that caused Tonya to rethink her own.  

Tonya went to bed last night with a tumbler of cold tequila and a head full of comfy knowledge. She knew that the Lord Jesus would answer her prayer to never let no colored Muslim communist terrorist be no durn president. She was certain she would wake up to find that sassy Sarah Palin and her running mate, a wonderfully mavericky war hero, had been elected instead. In her Christian heart, Tonya was confident that Americans were every bit as racist as Republicans hoped they’d turn out to be, as the much discussed, posted about and wished for “Bradley Effect” would work its reactionary magic at the polls. 

But this morning at work, Tonya got sloppy. Maybe she was tired. Maybe just a bit hungover. Whatever the cause for her lapse, she became infected by the Liberal Elite Mainstream Media. As she carelessly bused her table, she inadvertently glanced at a New York Times a suspiciously informed dinner had mischievously left behind. Sensing danger, she tried to look away, but it was too late. She’d already read the headline. Before she could blindfold herself with the rag she was using to wipe the table and repeat her “la la la la MR. FACTS I DON’T HEAR YOU!  la la ” incantation, inconvenient information had already burrowed into her head like anthrax spores. Poor Tonya’s bitter heart just couldn’t take the shock: The America of FoxNews and her favorite right wing website wasn’t the America she was walking and breathing in. Before I could call out “But Florida and California still hate the homos!” to revive her, she was gone.

WARNING: Viewing this video can cause people with even negligible intelligence and civility to experience an overdose of self-respect.

Unretouched photo of John McCain at the end of last night’s debate, apparently possessed by demons!

Last night, we saw what happens when you have perpetually peeved fans given to screaming insults and slander. And, no, I’m not talking about the fools who paid money to see Janet Jackson lip-synch, only to find out at the last minute Miss Jackson went on a nasty bender and cancelled the concert. Well, on second thought, maybe she had the right idea. In sad contrast, John McCain would have been wise to cancel, too. Instead, he went on his nasty bender on air!

Under increasing goading from his bloodthirsty and increasingly frenzied “base,” McCain was determined to go on the attack. He played offense, but it played out as offensive. That is because it is dangerous for McCain to tap into his reservoirs of sarcastic anger. That unreserved reserve may be as flammable as our nation’s natural gas, but McCain’s reserves don’t appear to be finite. If only we had the technology to tap this angry energy, we could go back to driving Hummers!

By most accounts, McCain is a nasty piece of work, short tempered, rude and, more than his poseur “pit bull” running mate, close enough to the genuine article that any lipstick would go unnoticed. With his split-screen snarls, he may have thrown some red meat to the his base, clamoring for insults and rudeness. But the problem with acting like those people is that they scare most Americans.

What Would Joe the Plumber Do?

Let’s be honest, the smarmy, canned, patronizing references to “Joe the Plumber” were just irritating. But nevertheless rather telling. Notice how McCain sarcastically sneered, “Congratulations, Joe, you’re rich!”? McCain’s mocking was rooted in a big-time gigolo’s distain for the notion that anyone making $250,000 could be thought of as “rich.” Most Americans might feel otherwise. But, then again, they don’t spend that amount annually on servants, as do John and his android wife. What’s funny is that someone can gain notoriety as “Joe the Plumber” when he isn’t even a licensed plumber.   But he is, however, skinhead enough to make a “tap dances like Sammy Davis, Jr.” remark about Barrack Obama. Oh, dear. No wonder McCain plucked Joe out from all of America for some unseemly pandering! Joe sounds like John’s base!

Join me, won’t you?  Meet John McCain’s base: 

 

I’m fascinated by the rebranding of products that goes on in this ever-resourceful, credulous, crumbling America of ours.  John McCain, a selfish, spoiled, name-dropping chatterbox, who simply couldn’t stop yapping to the North Vietnamese, is rebranded a selfless hero.  Sarah Palin, a lying pathological narcissist, is improbably rebranded as, well, sane. And Barrack Obama, someone who made his start being kind to the poor, is rebranded an anti-Jesus terrorist!  Well, honestly, if we Republicans can successfully rebrand Jesus himself as a bellicose materialist, is anyone truly safe from an inventive Madison Avenue make-over?

What is most entertaining about John McCain and Sarah Palin is that they don’t wait for someone else to rebrand them; they are too busy marketing themselves. And they prefer their slogans as vivid as they are simple.  Barracuda!  Hero!  Pit-bull! Maverick!  It’s a conceited — and cynical — undertaking. It is also a patronizing acknowledgement of a rather base base, which prefers a good story to a real one.

In the desperate throes of ineptitude and the toxic backwash of the frenzied hatred and racism they have coyly set in motion, Palin/McCain [sic.] have turned their hobby of repackaging on their opponent. And it’s getting rather uncomfortable to watch.  And if you think what they say in public is unseemly and shocking, just wait until you see the stuff they didn’t release, on an exclusive copy of their campaign attack ad bloopers: