Can I get a witness?
Ladies and gentlemen, Ms. ZZ Packer, a better writer than I'll ever be, which, admittedly, isn't saying much. But the above-linked piece hits on a theme that has bogged me down since the election, preventing me from effectively writing my novel about the time-travelling robot. She understands our current political predicament far better than the "Fuck The South" crowd, who are surprisingly numerous, ever will. Money quote:
"The more progressive religious-minded folk understand that stating that the Democrats are “for abortion” is like saying every gun owner is “for homicide,” and we all know that’s just not the case. The progressive and moderately religious are, by and large, for real solutions, and rather than foolhardily trying to legislate all sexual behavior, they advocate sex education, birth control and the morning-after pill to reduce unwanted pregnancies. These people know how to talk to the red states and swing states because, more often than not, they live in them. But if we continue shipping in the Prada and Birkenstock crowd to talk about abortion, gay marriage and Iraq to the small-town Main Streeters on their way to Home Depot, we’re toast."
Joshuah Bearman follows along those same lines. There is a way to overcome the fundies, my friends! Let this site serve as a beacon light of hope.
You would think that indicting certain evil Dominionist leaders would slow them down, but not in today's Washington. It's always cute when Josh Marshall eats his Wonkies, the nutritious cereal for wonks. He's got Tom DeLay pinned to the wall. I can't imagine the Hammer is exactly trembling at the sight of Marshall's coffee-deprived blog puss, but Talking Points Memo is the place to go right now if you're a Congressional corruption fetishist.
What else? Oh, yes. I wrote this piece for the Stranger. It's a better-edited version of the stuff I was posting here last week, with some amusing anecdotes about my recent book tour added. The article concludes that being a writer is kind of humiliating. There are definitely some perks, but it's still kind of humiliating. And the food description paragraph alone should pretty much put to rest the stupid regular-guy persona I briefly adopted last week.
I have no working-class credentials, and won't falsely claim them. I grew up in a suburb of Phoenix. My dad owned a bus company and my mom was a schoolteacher. Nope. I'm just another non-fishing, non-hunting big-mouthed middle-class Jew. But you can trust my opinion.
This is a no-spin zone.