Swept Away

There are times when I wish I had the skills to be a political cartoonist, and this is one of those times.

I am imagining a huge hurricane bearing down on the huddles of Republicans and Democrats, each hunched in conspiratorial circles around their own little campfires, plotting away about TV ads and televised speeches, while the lightening sears the electrical grid, huge ships get washed up on the streets of coastal cities, and homes are blasted and flattened. Those crazy strategists don’t even look up until the pouring rain puts out their fire, and by then the storm is on them and it’s too late to run and there’s nowhere to hide.

Reading the latest political blog from The New York Times “Caucus” column makes me feel sick.

Here comes a storm that may cost lives and billions in property damage, and all the brightest minds in Washington DC can think about is how best to play it politically?

If that is the way all threats to our wellbeing are treated by our politicians, it is no wonder that we’re in such trouble today.

I expect better from the Democrats, but as so many of my readers have insisted vociferously lately, maybe I need to take off my rose-colored glasses and see my party for what it is.

Just another political party whose main goal and raison d’etre is simply Power.  Politicians who try to play by more humanitarian rules don’t seem to get too far in Washington.  Once they get into the clutches of the political strategists, their lives and minds are not their own.

There must be another way.

I can take off my rose-colored glasses as regards what we have now, the players currently on the ground.  But I refuse to let go of my hope that the system can be better.

True, the Marxist experiment has not worked, and nothing has come along to offer another vision of a more ideal socio-political-economic system.

But there are some interesting ideas brewing on the margins now.  The Living Economies movement, the Green Party agenda, the whole ethos of sustainability as opposed to limitless growth.

Maybe the real end to that cartoon strip I’m imagining is what happens the day after the storm.

The Republicans and Democrats are standing on soapboxes making speeches about how much they care about the damage, but no one is listening to them. People are going about the business of clean-up with determination and good cheer, and it’s quite clear that they have no use at all for the out-of-touch pols.

Yes, those elected officials do control the purse strings of “disaster relief.”   But that’s our money they’re parsing out!  Our tax dollars, far too much of which goes to blowing things up in the military, rather than in constructing a solid, sustainable economy.

The question I am mulling over this morning is, what will it take to achieve fundamental political changes in our country?   Can we do it by reform, or is it going to take all out revolution?

Or will Mother Earth do it for us, sweeping it all away to make way for a new epoch?

Gale Force: A Republican Tragedy

It seems entirely appropriate to me that the Republican National Convention should coincide with a hurricane.

Those crazy libertarians are a gale force until themselves, threatening to blow the center right out of our democratic republic.

Let’s all spin out to an each-man-for-himself anarchy, they cackle with glee!

Who needs Medicaid, Medicare, food stamps, unemployment compensation, tax breaks for the middle class?

Just as long as the billions for the military keep pouring in unhindered, the right to bear arms remains unobstructed, women are kept pregnant and barefoot and gay marriage is outlawed, all will be well.

And let’s build a few more prisons while we’re at it, shall we?  Ryan might add dourly, echoing his more famous counterpart Scrooge.  Are there no workhouses?

While the hurricane rages outside the convention center, the GOP celebrants within will be feasting like vultures on the carrion remains of our once-noble country.

FDR will be rolling over in his grave as the New Deal goes up in smoke.

But the message of the wind and flooding outside is unmistakeable, and has been declaimed in tragic tones for many a century now:

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 


Creeps in this petty pace from day to day 


To the last syllable of recorded time, 


And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 


The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!


Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player 


That struts and frets his hour upon the stage 


And then is heard no more: it is a tale 


Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 


Signifying nothing.

How many heads will roll in the 21st century tragedy of our America?

Who will be left, Horatio-like, to tell the tale of woe?

Blow winds, blow!

I foresee that as in Shakespeare—or the Bible—it will take a storm of catastrophic magnitude to shake our rotten political timbers to their foundations, and pave the way for a new dawn.

Predicted path of Tropical Storm Isaac as of Aug. 25, 2012