Cliven Bundy & my last Klan rally

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For reasons pertaining to the preservation of my sanity, I’ve pretty much ditched watching either of the opinion news networks on the right or the left. I’m convinced the only way they thrive is to keep their viewers angry and stupid.

Stupid I can do all on my own. In fact, what’s truly surprising is that I’m not by now my own cable network. There’s an enormous appetite for televised stupidity and I’ve for years been at it 24/7

And I have no desire to import disruptive anger. So I don’t need Sean Hannity nor Rachel Maddow to nourish my outrages. But I do my best to remain aware of national news and whatever is causing the minds of the political extremes to fester.

That’s how I became aware of Cliven Bundy’s desert defiance of the federal government. He’s become a right wing darling for, in effect, putting his own Tea Party spin on what Woody Guthrie said nearly 70 years ago when he so joyfully proclaimed, “This land is your land! This land is my land!”

For purposes of grazing his cattle for free on federal lands upon which his neighbors willingly pay taxes, Bundy seized on just the second half of the couplet and sang, “This land is my land! This land is my land!” and kept repeating it over and over until Fox and the lunatic right began to hum along.

We should have seen what happened next when it was reported that Bundy is from Bunkerville, Nevada.

More like Archie Bunkerville.

Because weeks after Hannity, Rand Paul, Rick Perry and other leading Republicans feted Bundy for his embrace of liberty, Bundy revealed he’s a bit picky about to whom he extends those God-given liberties he so reveres.

He said “the Negro” should be returned to slavery again. For their own good!

Oh, boy, I’d pay to watch Fox News if they’d sponsor a town hall meeting of Bundy making those remarks on any street corner in South Central L.A.

The GOP is struggling to connect with blacks. Who would have thought some of their members think applying stout shackles are the wisest way to do so? In fact, Bundy said he often wonders if African Americans were better off picking cotton and enjoying simple down home plantation family life.

I think if Fox were really interested in extending the reach of Rupert Murdoch’s favorite party it would give its hardcore viewers an opportunity to watch all of Alex Haley’s “Roots” for a fresh perspective.

Bundy has drawn militia patriots who enjoy Ted Nugent music for reasons that have nothing to do with melody or lyrical cleverness and who often exceed Bundy in their zeal to “help” blacks, Mexicans, Jews, Catholics and other non-rednecks find their place in America. 

Hint: it ain’t no where near America.

They are the faces of hate.

It’s a face I most vividly recall from being about an inch from mine back in, I think, 1987, when I was covering my last Klan rally. That was back when I was a reporter for the once-great, now-gone Nashville Banner.

I’ll never forget asking this great big, robed Bubba if he’d answer some questions about why he was there.

He wheeled on me like a rabid Rottweiler. He got right in my face and just began screaming profane hatred at me.

I remember thinking, man, this dude must be color-blind. I mean, hey, I was white!

Still am!

Maybe he thought I was a Jewboy. Or maybe he insightfully sensed I’d one day years later write about happy little book advocating using all the crayons when if I cared at all about racial purity my book would be called, “F••• All Those Other Colors! Just Use The White Crayon!”

It was very disturbing. It wasn’t even because I was a nosy reporter.

I think it was just because he knew I wasn’t one of them.

Of course, the faces of hatred aren’t all that rare and that’s not why I remember his so well.

I remember this particular Klansman because mere moments later I saw on him the face of pure rapture.

The transformation was stunning. You’d think he’d have just seen Jesus wink at him. But, no, it was all because he was hearing the Grand Dragon amplify his hatreds to the crowd. He was just overjoyed, beaming, to hear someone talk the kind of talk we this week heard from Bundy. He looked as happy as any man I’ve ever seen.

I remember thinking, man, I’ll bet I don’t look that happy when I have a ready erection and a nearby woman who might give the thing some attention.

I do not dispute that men like him and Bundy share a genuine love for America, but men like them will never be able to temper what is in essence a love-hate relationship.

They do indeed love America.

It’s just that simultaneously hate the part of America that stipulates they must share it with lousy bastards like you and me who disagree with them and their mangled interpretations of what it all really means.

Related . . .

ObamaCare will cure “sick” Tea Party

I Pledge Allegiance to the Pledge of Alligiance

Don’t call them Patriots

GOP blows whistle on Clint’s halftime

Sarah Palin & the zombies

Farewell, Sarah, America’s flirt

17 topics, 1 post, zero money: Scattergun bloggin'

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I probably have about a dozen potential topics sprouting in today’s idea garden. That’d be a very fruitful day if writing even one blog earned me so much as a dime. It rarely does. So today I’m going to post a jiffy little round-up of ideas and move onto other projects that, I’m sure, won’t wind up paying me a dime either. But the exercise will fulfill some ethereal self-imposed obligation to daily blog so here we go.

• One of the ideas I was going to write about it is how compelling our national manhunts have become. I’m convinced some day there will be a reality network that negotiates a deal with the prison system to free one worthy felon whose sentence will be vacated if he or she can elude capture for, say, two weeks of a national dragnet. The stickiest logistic will be finding a felon trustworthy enough to pinky promise not to hurt anyone or break anything during the manhunt.

• I wonder how many centuries it’s been since a dragnet involved the actual dragging of a net.

• Many of the people who were ridiculing CNN for heat-of-the-moment manhunt reporting errors were the same people who spent the last decade nodding vigorously anytime Fox News assured them the Iraq War was a really swell idea and that today Mitt Romney would be getting his mail in the White House.

• Speaking of manhunts, today marks the 148th anniversary of the conclusion of the most epic one in American history. Yes, today was the day in 1865 that Boston Corbett, America’s greatest eunuch slew Lincoln assassin John Wilkes Booth. Not familiar with Corbett? Check out the Boston Corbett link below. The story contains nearly a dozen fascinating brain barnacles that will forever enliven any conversation about the man who killed the man who killed Lincoln. It’s the second most viewed story I’ve ever posted.

• I’ve decided a while ago against embedding links within posts in favor of grouping them at the end. I’m trying to avoid losing readers right in the middle of what I’m trying to say. It’s a stupid form of self-interruption.

• Want a tip on when it’s a good idea to skip one of my posts? How about anytime I file it after 5 p.m.? It’s like I’m trying to sneak it past readers without anyone noticing. I was so displeased with yesterday’s pro-booze-and-driving post I nearly took it down. Instead I’ve put a little italicized disclaimer on top apologizing and saying, gee, on second thought, I don’t really think we need more drunk drivers. The problem was yesterday was terribly disjointed. It usually takes me about 90 uninterrupted minutes to write, proof and post these. But that never works if I only have precisely 90 minutes. I wrote yesterday’s in three chunks and never had a chance to think it clear through. 

• I caught myself there before writing that yesterday was a terrible day. It was not. Sure, I was in the car for four hours driving my mother back and forth so she could attend a school event and still sleep in her own bed. Sure, I felt beaten down by failure and frustration. Maybe you did, too. It happens. But yesterday, our 12-year-old had one of just two speaking roles in the Baggaley Elementary School spring choral program. She was poised. She was vibrant. She was magnificent. Bad day? No. One of the best.

• And I got a good haircut yesterday, too, and that’s got to count for something.

• Reese Witherspoon will be forgiven for her diva moment. She’s still perfectly cool in my book. For what it’s worth, I’d never advise anyone to play the “do-you-know-who-I am?” celebrity card. I believe loudly reminding the arresting officer that you pay their salary is more persuasive.

• I think some people suspect my moaning about always being broke is some sort of schtick. It is not. I dream of a day when I can change the name of my blog to, “Eight Days To 1 %,” even as I understand the loss in catchiness and street cred that would represent.

• The more I blog, the more people demand I blog, the less time I devote to things that might earn actual coin. I had a friend recently say he was at work with some time to kill and was pissed because I hadn’t taken the time to write anything fresh that day. On the irony scale, that scenario almost equals a coyote devouring a vegetarian.

• I’m glad I live in a country that believes in forgiving guys like that nervous wreck, profanity-spewing rookie North Dakota broadcaster. So good for you, A.J. Clemente. It looks like you’re getting a second chance. Now don’t, er, mess it up.

• I’m becoming convinced God won’t let it happen because me enjoying any success would send a terrible message to the impressionable youth of America.

• Okay, that’s enough goofing off for one day. Time for one of us to get back to work. I just can’t decide whether that means you or me.

Related . . .

Boston Corbett: America’s Greatest Eunuch

Just the facts: My interview with Harry Morgan

GOP blows whistle on Clint's halftime

If it’s halftime in America, we’d all better brace ourselves for plenty of flushing and farting.

As a veteran of more than 200 Pittsburgh Steeler home games, that’s what halftime means to me. It doesn’t mean hoped for comebacks. The Steelers are usually favored and protecting a lead.

This may come as a surprise to women, but the men’s rooms in Heinz Field where the Steelers play don’t have individual porcelain urinals, but have instead those stainless steel troughs that stretch for about 50 feet of knee-high wall space. That means those standing at the low end of the slope can expect a communal splashing that ought to have them racing to the nearest laundromat the second the final whistle blows.

The lack of privacy is unsettling to some dainty men. I try and help by telling them the custom at Heinz Field is to put your arms around the strangers to your right and left and offer friendly encouragement.

Anyone who dabbles in public musings knows it’s unwise to say anything nice about President Obama or hint just maybe he made a gutsy call on things like killing bin Laden.

You can count on the conservative backlash to be fierce.

That’s what one of our greatest Americans is finding out.

I’m talking about Clint Eastwood.

Even though he’s never fought for our country, solved a national crisis or found a cure for something itchy, I do consider him one of our greatest Americans.

He’s for more than 50 years made great movies that entertain and help define America. He’s perfectly cool.

Unlike me, he’s never voted for a Democrat presidential candidate and looks at every issue from a conservative point of view.

I have many friends like that. We’d never let politics get in the way of our friendship.

They think about politics, but they aren’t political. There’s a big difference. They are tolerant of my liberal opinions and are open-minded in a political discussion.

And we all love Clint.

They saw the same now-controversial ad featuring Eastwood -- and if his voice gets any more gravelly it ought to be quarried -- saying of Detroit, “They almost lost everything. But we all pulled together. Now Motor City is fighting again.”

None of them reported thinking, “Son of a bitch! The outlaw Josie Wales is shilling for that Muslim tourist in the White House. That’s it. My next pickup is gonna be built in Japan!”

No, they thought, “Cool! Clint’s talking about American auto workers, guys who are as red neck and blue collar as me. Man, I’m glad we’re still making cars in Detroit. USA! USA!”

They saw no political intent. They discerned no pro-Obama messages.

They are not Karl Rove.

“I was, frankly, offended by it,” he told Fox News. Yes, to a conservative an American icon saying something obvious and positive about an American success that happened because of Obama is offensive.

Picking a fight with Clint Eastwood is the clearest sign the national GOP is completely unhinged. They are mired in a dismal primary season being contested by candidates who each have something disqualifying about their record or personality. And that’s disqualifying just to fellow conservatives. With the economy strengthening and adding jobs and foreign policy off the table, they fear they are facing an historic electoral debacle.

Those fears are justified.

Attacking Clint Eastwood might work on Fox News, but it won’t work in an America where anyone with any sense is happy they’re making money and better vehicles in Motor City.

Most Americans are smart enough to recognize when a good thing is a good thing.

Eastwood, who is on record as being opposed to bailouts, has already come out and said the ad is not meant to boost Obama and is intended “to be a message about job growth and the spirit of America,” something he thinks all politicians should embrace.

It’s halftime in America. What are you going to do?

For me, I’ll continue to try and avoid the partisan squabbles that so agitate the petty minds of people like Karl Rove.

Instead, I’ll put my arms around those to the left and the right of me and I will encourage them.