An Opinion Column by Pauline Chandler
Last month, while I was hiking in the Adirondacks, I came across an injured bear. He was large, with big snarling teeth and claws that could more than likely shred me limb from limb. But while I was face to face with him and his irretrievably crippled leg, I simply laughed. That bear could no more harm me than I could harm a mountain.
Why? Because I have a brain that thinks. He is merely an animal. Where he has instinct to protect his little bear family and make his little bear leg work again, I have thougtful reason and cunning. Where he submits to volatile fire-breathing anger and backwards, cave-dwelling fear, I have informed consent over my emotions. I am superior to him just as I am superior to most of you.
Anger is a potent weapon, and fear is a crusted old motivator, as aged and refined as the wine in my 54 degree chilling cellar. And fear, like wine, tastes lovely in one's political adversaries. But that is only when there's not an election coming up where those in fear get to speak their seldom used minds.
Vote-casting by the unwashed masses is a relic of the 18th century, when that folly-laden gaggle of inbreds entrusted themselves with creating the world's most universally hated country, of which I am alternately very proud and not proud at all to be a part.
Proud on a night when we elected the endearing orator, the ocean-healer and healthcare-saver, Mr. President Barack Obama. And not proud at all in a few short weeks when the so-called "electorate" will put its panic-stricken ursine qualities to paper, and alter the course of human progress, setting all of his hard work back perhaps centuries.
That is why, last Monday, when I got a behind-the-scenes sneak preview of the new logo the Democrats have unveiled - a block letter D inside a circle, sublime in its simplicity, parboiled in its pluperfection - I began to feel things I have rarely felt before. What's more, something deep inside was telling me to act on those feelings. Since then, I have celebrated with not one or two, but with seven different men, one for each night that has passed since the Logo was revealed to me. I am a woman. Not whorish or slutty, but empowered.
When I see the blue D, I am at once entranced and transfixed, taken to a higher level of sexual consciousness. It's the 60's once again and I am tripping on acid and rolling in the mud somewhere in New York while a war that nobody wants rages in a country far, far away. I am liberated.
You see, while the vast declassed fixate blindly on the Logo's masterful design, their social betters are gathered in Washington, constructing pages upon pages of new progressive law. This law will be passed, one way or another, while the sheep sleep in the Logo's perfect light blue hypnosis, to take us all to a place of social justice and transformation, of fairness and true equality. That is what I see when I see the Logo, and it excites me in very special ways.
There was a lady yesterday, at a televised town hall meeting, and she asked the President why he has not done enough to make her life easier. She is struggling mightily, you see, even though she voted for him. She claims, quizzically, that her family is living on mere hot dogs and beans. She does not understand why things are not better for her yet.
Well, when you voted for President Obama, Missy, his promise was not to accompany your "franks and beans" with spoonfuls of dijon mustard, but rather to make things fairer for everyone the world over. That is why it is not up to Obama to "feel" your pain, but rather to "create" a little bit more of it. When you fracture a bone, as the failed policies of the last eight years fractured this country, often times the only fix is for the good doctor to break the bone all the way through, before the healing can truly begin.
So right now, it is Dr. Obama's job to break the bear's bones, to immobilize it in a cast of 100% political silence, while he and the rest of the elected superiors set about fixing things the right way. It is time, and not too late I might add, for our elections to cease, and the world to thoroughly transform. Only then, when the system has been reconstructed, can the cast truly come off. Any sooner and the pain will surely be excruciating. That is by design, I assure you. And with this, I am drenched in anticipation for the future of this country.
So, Miss Obama Supporter, when you emerge from your voiceless hole which you yourself clearly admit that you willingly and smartly voted into power, if you don't recognize the world you are in anymore, do not get angry like some pugnacious, degenerate bear fearfully defending its young and trying to fix its still mangled leg.
Do not swipe at the air with your clipped claws, because that sort of behavior is not becoming of a lady. Rather, be like me. Sit back in your study, use your brain a little bit more, and then have some wine. I recommend a 1945 Chateau Mouton-Rothschild. I picked one up at Sotheby's yesterday and it was delicious.
Pauline Chandler is an independent Nobel Laureate who writes for The Mega Independent.
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