Stop Me Before I Vote Again

Last night Hunter T appeared in my bedroom mirror again -- it's been awhile.

"Are you awake, Owen -- you piece of farm filth, you?"

As usual, not waiting for a response, he rattled on about my shakey grasp of "white sixpack America":.

"It's our only true calling, them and their conflicted doublecrossified 'who fuckin' stole my identity' politics!"

That and much else I quickly forgot, except this -- he ended, twisting a long stained index finger at me,

"I'll tell you one thing, I'm not moiged with that creepy Deli Lllllamer. You oughta know by now -- Fortunately, we can't co-hab with the living, you pinprick."

"Then it's George Meany you're brain-bubbling with these days, I take it?" -- since he sounded like the great plumber from New York while word-sculpting his group mug shot of male blue-collar America. He looked a little sheepish -- outed, y'know.

"True enough. Me and mouth are..." he trailed off. "But since you kinda brought it up anyhow -- free Tibet! Lama or no lama!"

-- and then, poof, he was gone.

I suspect he'd figured that last bit would rankle me, seeing as I'm soft on the PRC and all. But what the hell? Let 'em rebel their way to liberation -- period, end of subject. You gotta earn your national liberty. Clio's a hardass that way. All else is just using contradictions between your enemies, which brings in us softhearted pwogs.

Much as we might want all peoples to be equally free and self determining, we oughta keep our noses out of the Tibetans' heroic bidniss. All else is pure holier-than-thou self-indulgence. If you bother to put all the moving parts together, it's obvious all you can do is aid our dear Uncle Hegemon with his dirty great game play.