VOGUE copyright Conde Nast
© 2022 h2omeloncholy@blogspot.com
© 2022 KM Fikes
One shares with ye an amusing as remotely advantageous exercise in reverse psychology: a proven effective strategy, equally on toddlers and/or 'freedom-loving' Mericans. Let us set absurdist ingenuity into motion with a call to Al Franken for President in 2024. Deploying the following proposed wisest of ruse - he might win.
Mericans are obsessed with certain tired tropes, endeared to the kid who tilts windmills, whilst escaping serious contemplation of the technology to save energy. The only pastime some deem more enjoyable than dragging a celebrity thru the mud, is hosing em down to note how the mud bath now makes their skin glow. Rehabilitation is generally welcome. Re-entry to boot. As long as the person is not of color, having served prison time for the crime of Mary Jane procurement - which is now, not only legal, yet spurs a new 'green' economy. After release, they are ironically disenfranchised because returning to society - as a responsible citizen - inexplicably excludes the vote. But certain othas? When priv peops rise from the ashes, scars of scandal sinking back into thicker skin, if their reemergence strikes 'us' as contrite enuf a posture, Mericans are inclined to give those kind a minute - not so much with the generosity of a second chance - but a brief window to entertain us with their efforts. Emphasis on entertainment. It had better be fun.
That's just the voter. Gets better.
Political operatives lean into a bent that aids our purpose here. Rare is the communal layer of residue that is the regret upon Franken's resignation. Behind closed doors and even some with blurred signage on their front lawn? Most admit the error they made with Al. They manage to proceed in that unique hushed tone of atoned humility. Few refute that the Dems lost one that they need today - minus the due process that they are sworn to uphold. With interior décor of an indelible chessboard, Franken's colleagues were pawns. Haunted by punting for Bill Clinton, confessional shrugs cannot rectify their oops of ill-placed piety. Oh, but sum'in can: a Franken Presidential run is the ideal remedy. Daresay? As flawless 'a fix' as occurs by bluest moons.
And pangs.
This progressive poet having to turn to the Dems is an act registering as worse than defeat. It seems the greater crime of a lack of imagination. Yet, please, bear with one. For there may indeed be a creative wrinkle within this un-'woke' stroke of reverse psychology.
Dems, dammit. The party who should no longer exploit donkeys and choose a mascot more aligned with their conscience: a jellyfish. Yet that insults jellyfish, who unlike Dems, never extracted their own spine. Because jellyfish never had a backbone to remove. Such could be evolutionary, however - as may apply, also - to any political party.
If under-the-sea symbols serve, one happens to be of the 'pearl' ilk: a speck of grain irritating the structural lining whilst becoming one's own jewel. One dreams of the absurd bubble bursting upon a two-party system that purchased 'the leading' nation. Each behemoths now, with their own television network as blowhole. Either is insufferable while inevitably, one holds one's nose, retching back vomit, to vote as a disgruntled default Dem. The sole dignity remains in one's vacuous title of 'Independent'. One cheers for The Squid Squad on most matters. Liz and/or Bernie too. One remains perplexed, however, as to why the spine of our lovable looney lefties hasn't stacked flesh, bone, and nerve to comprise a digit with knuckle and nail that raises its middle self at the Dems by forming a party reflective of the Dem-repellant Reformation.
We just don't have that time tho'.
Biden is...Joe. Harris? Black and South Asian. And not a man. And we? As evidenced by school-board-meeting attendance with lit torches and librarians in fetal positions under their desks, we, my gentlesoulfolk, find ourselves smack in the midst of The Backlash. Any Wonder that its songs are in the key of misogynoir*? If youth can no longer read Nobel Laureate, the late Toni Morrison, and the conceptualist/curator of the Pulitzer-Prized 1619 Project, Nikole Hannah-Jones, has 'that' much trouble with academic tenure? How the bleep can Kamala office it Oval? Next week, Supreme Court nominee, Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson, will weather her confirmation Inquisition - where GOP dog whistles are apt to turn a marbled hall into a poop-strewn park. In her second Georgia gubernatorial run, Stacey Abrams' cameo proves that she has learned the drill. As is custom in every execution of black ‘excellence’, Star Trek casts black women before any planetary constituency. Her children's book may be banned but Abrams' scripted role as POTUS 'POUE, President Of United Earth', will - streaming for Paramount Plus - "boldly go" forth.
Welcome to The Backlash. A reverse. Seeking psychology. Unless? We be crafty. Let us, counterclockwise, dip ladle and stir cauldron.
Think about Nancy. Pelosi has a vital role in our scheme of schemes. Yep, Al will 'seem' to present Nancy Pelosi, and other Dem establishment, with a bit of a pickle. They cannot publicly support a choice this common sensical. That very twisting will delight detractors. Get it now? This is the whole idea. If the other side thinks Al makes Nancy squirm? He's in. Let them cry 'hypocrite' until they go hoarse, turning their MAGA hats to the back.
The core of their alter-ethos is the given allowance to thumb their noses. Thus Al will be their guy.
Then there's Thumbelina Trumpalooza. Still. Further proof that entertaining Mericans supersedes leading them/us. Nixon likely won that debate with Kennedy but Dick sweated too much on camera. Reagan budget-cut his teeth in Hollywood. And there was this show on NBC called The Apprentice. Before that? Love Boat's 'Gopher' represented Iowa in the House for some stretch. A Californian recall feels practically quaint that could elect a Terminator. All Republicans. 'Official' theatrical chops of Democrats have yet to be put to the test so stealthily. Franken's bona fides bury all of the above. How many politicians plummet, not even hosting SNL, but attempting the opening skit? Franken was a lauded SNL writer, for years, who served in the US Senate, for years - absent incident. Until there was one. At the absolute inopportune juncture.
One was stumped by those who voted for Trump. Twice. And Obama. Twice. I repeat: there were/are Mericans with the spellbinding record of voting twice for both. One's dizzy spell broke once one could accept that some voters have not developed political conviction. They subscribe to no ideology, hence inhabiting a nebulous purpose, conveniently at the whim of interests oft deceptively against them. Which is the intended protocol although they pride themselves on being Palinian 'mavericks'. That is exactly how the system has designed itself to function - under the auspices of a rebellious 'liberty' that is basically reproducing repression. Theirs. Capitalists are supposed to obliviously consume. Ad nauseam with lil' rhyme nor reason. A more advanced ethic would disrupt Da Colonial Project. Keep believing the bull and buying bull's merch.
- White Republican women voted for Trump.
- White Democrat women would not support Kirsten Gillibrand, citing her cancellation of Franken.
- Bernie Bros won't even realize why they are drawn to rally round Franken.
We can likely count on the valuable innumerable with no trust in pollsters. Because they think they are him. They are not. No more Franken than they are Trump. Even bombing at an open mic, many manage to continue overestimating their own humor. Let us, then, not disturb their illusion that they can take to small club stages or local polls. A humor miscalculation is accompanied by their 'her' concerns. Inevitably, they have dissed women yet these offenses were/are too quotidian for them to recognize and too numbing for those afflicted to mention.
Franken was once their worst nightmare: he got caught - empty-handed - and lost his job for far less than they have done or said. But now? He's back, baby! And running for the tit tip-top job. Franken, thereby, morphs into their fantasy. They'll support him like bra pushing up boob. Some won't even know Franken at all - not his past nor his present. But they will take note of how his candidacy makes white feminists apoplectic and black women roll their eyes. That reaction is more than enough to garner their favor. For the record? Thy blogger is black, female, doesn't roll her eyes nor neck, and only snaps her fingers - whilst sporting shades indoors - as retro applause during poetry readings. However, one will commit to the practice elsewhere, throughout a Franken run, and impressively feign shock when caught on film doing so. As a patriot, one will revert to stereotype to stand snap to the (wink, wink) mission.
FOX NEWS 'man-on-the-street':
"Franken? Nah, I don't know what he stands for. But he's a good guy who the chicks just don't get. C'mon already, give the dude a chance to go back to Washington. Pretty funny too. 'We' could 'all' use a laugh. So why not, Al? 'We've' 'all' said 'our' share of crap. Doesn't mean 'we're' not good at 'our' 'job'. #Me Too ruined the good ones - like Tony Robbins said, until the feminists made him apologize. They've gone too far. Bringing back Al? Shows who's boss."
MSNBC 'man-on-the-street':
"Franken? He was a decent Senator...apparently. I liked watching him grill a guy. And the jokes too. What he did can't be defended. What, uh, was it, by the way? Whatever was so bad, he's no Jeffrey Epstein. I get why some women don't like him running when there hasn't been a woman President yet. They're right to be pissed. But he's a comedian. And a Jew. Like Zelensky. He's the 'West's' hero now. Ya know...maybe that's the trend. 'We' did the black thing - which made us wind up with Trump. Don't get me wrong. It was good to try that. But 'historic' doesn't make 'everyone' happy. With Franken? Hey, at least 'the room' will laugh."
Both of these men - on behalf of 'the whole' - will vote. For Franken.
Almost too easy. Da Great Reversal needs no rehearsal. Some U-turns are illegal. We chance the screech anyway. Why? To get where we need to go when time is of the essence.
Eve of spring, 2022. The midterms loom...in sure doom. Our maps are gerrymandered to the (fish) gills. Climate refugees rival those of conflict. Totalitarianism tends to view sovereign nations as its eventual cruise ship buffet. Eh, estimation. 'Over' for rugged individual humor. 'Under' for international appetite. The horror in Palestine, Somalia, Libya, Yemen Ukraine is matched by its honor - whilst its resistance is mute to the isolated ravenous. For Vlad, Ukraine may, most respectfully, only be breakfast. If so? Who is dinner? At world peril, do not forget dessert. Or borders. Where African students are forcibly delayed on the edge of noble Ukraine. Please, dear reader, mistake not one's use of "noble" as facetious. If not for the volatile urgency of exodus, their tactics nigh qualify as tepid. Ukraine, by kind comparison, is old school in denying a bus seat. C'mon, been there, done that, still got the boycott 'T': generational Trauma. Other borders up their ante in Lashin' Back: from horseback, whipping Haitians whilst those same borders cage Columbians fleeing made-in-Merica cartels. To quote VP Harris - born in Oakland to a father immigrating from Jamaica and a mother immigrating from India: "Don't come." Meantime? South Korea just elected a she-averse conservative that North Korea will undoubtedly 'test'. Cash is increasingly crypto (what the...) and COVID variants ain't hardly over. Neither is Trump's stranglehold. Roe (gulp) probably is.
An absurdist experiment - in the guise of a mental reversal - is no abandonment of 'the cause'. To be clear, Franken is no 'white savior' slip. The alleged choice - in appearance, reluctant as ridiculous - could be a clever 'representation' flip. This counterintuitive exercise buys us time - four to eight years - to wait out The Backlash. How else to face the hell stench-ed cataclysm in which we find our electoral health hanging by a burning thread? To woefully misquote MLK:
“The arc of the moral universe...bends...so much that it boomerangs all over the joint.” **
We are past due to get realistic about our survival. That 'our' is the priv populous; the marginalized sect never takes for granted the miracle that is our endurance in spite of rule derelict in humanity. If this is Empire's final lap? Franken's controversial lip? Al's got jokes. Maybe Rome was hedonistic - which can have its charms, when uncontested consent propels mutual pleasure. Rome's Fall, nevadaless, with lore titillating, lacked equity and hilarity.
Unjustly, this surreal attempt - psychologically reversed - may not redeem Franken's reputation. Except for some solace in priv's penalty: a US Presidency. Franken, bright as issue-engaged, correctly calls the late Paul Wellstone his predecessor. On friendship and mentorship that legit, we can only pause. Peep Al's podcast - which is not hosted by a fellow who is even contemplating a run. Too, well, thoughtful in the targeted 'critical' sense, hence dangerously 'frank', set free to be nuanced in that manner avoided by most elected officials. Further, much of his policies were not far off the 'Dem' mark - whatever and wherever that mark may supposedly be these dire days. Issue-engagement is complicated by relativity - in the direct presence, distant suggestion, or complex complicity to a hostile atmosphere that is sexual harassment. One has no idea what personal psychic work followed his defrocking. One assumes, nonetheless, that he possesses a conscience with which the psychiatric community actually grappled to identify in 2016's Presidential victor. What one recalls the most is how one actually cannot recall if Franken's bow was more shame-faced swift or resolutely gracious. Franken was the anti-Cuomo, used to exiting stage left for SNL costume changes in seconds. Alas, this ain't about Al. Elections rarely are. We vote for or against our projections onto candidates.
Comedians manage to remain a culture's truth-tellers. Ruefully so when they are transphobic, or just cruel, or both. Even commodified, our exchange is somehow more honest than that transaction where a poll tax was supposed to be repealed. Plutocrats fancy themselves as 'court' yet their crowns - crooked - compare not to the heckling tomatoes of the hoi polloi. Charlatans to harlequins, only the elite touch crown jewels. Conversely, tomatoes, gone bad, are composted - as adept at yielding to human squeeze as worm crawl. Shakespeare, with royal benefactors, relied on this power impalance, habitually saving his best lines for the jester. Da Bard deployed Elizabethan reverse psychology wherein the crown clown delivers. Never in the position to drop entrenched systems, they twirl a mock scepter with alerting bells, before tossing it. To then juggle - in a distracting majesty - those otherwise mundane balls of Status Quo. Albeit satirized down to size, 'order' is kept up in air.
In addition to an astute as affable podcast, engaging with sophisticated thinkers, Al Franken is presently back on tour. Each audience is a crucial laboratory. The shrewdest succeed in the comedy profession by mastering the skill set of reading the zeitgeist - with scepter skewering those consensus of comfort in which 'we' foolishly rest. The mood remains in flux and the best stay one step ahead of the next subliminal trend in societal expression of 'our' existential angst. The sole predictability? Always tragic. Lone recourse? Laughter's reprieve. Thanks to Putin's latest stunt, 'strongmen' will soon be outta style; the everyman will once again be desirable.
The Reckoning was/is required. Its premier mistake was its tardiness. Or rather, 'attention', since Tarana Burke had long been on the case. Calm. The force of appropriated fury, shaking in a concealed coddled bottle, could only release past full throttle. Last line of Langston's REM poem warned ya'll about 'deferment'. Early on, The Reckoning's hot dam(n) broke. Too priv-ed to parse, she swallowed - in her 'wake' - Franken's right to defense. One cares not to google the percentage of lightning striking twice. Yet? Might 'our' fateful 'current' 'wash' a white ass ashore, buoyed by Blacklash, unwittingly proving to be the forthright but-t in one of 'our' most fickle moments?
Image Credit: Al Franken as 'Stuart Smalley' on NBC's SNL
With two years left - given the fraught state of our frayed union - it's Al, ya'll. From the Back. Lash. Franken, and his obligatory pale member, are charged with pleasing a fragile demos, keeping a patriarchy, innately perverse, in orgasmic stitches - raucously loud enough to ignore the quiet potential of substantive legislation.
In his own words - to his own mirror:
"...good enough, smart enough, and doggonit, people..." (might just) "...like..." (voting for) "...you."
* "misogynoir" coined by Dr. Moya Bailey
Stevie Wonder's arguable opus album, Songs in the Key of Life
** "The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
Til our next 'post', feast upon produce in season...
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