Once in a blue moon I stumble across an essay by Mark Morford and, as always, I am automatically compelled to share it with other Progressives. For better or worse, Morford has a style you don’t easily forget. He can make you laugh and cry all in the same sentence.
Evil overlords to flaccid clowns in the blink of Jesus’ eye. Adorable!
This much we know: Hand evil a big, sticky gob of power, and it quickly becomes a feral monster, dangerous and cruel and willing to sell its own shriveled heart and the heart of its very remorseful mother for a shot at everlasting infamy, even more power and maybe some fresh, raw kitten blood, intravenously, just for the hell of it.
Oh, but take that same vile leviathan and suddenly strip away all its power and influence and capacity for wickedness, and watch it deflate like a wheezing circus tent, quickly turning into a trembling caricature of its former self, a tiny, elfin thing small enough to fit into a shoebox of panic and pathos and residual Godspit.
But weep not for Miss California, who’s happy as a Prozac clam to take on the title as the new face of Republican hetero marriage. Isn’t she lovely? A skinny, fake-breasted blonde mouthful of air who does exactly as she’s told and never questions her scary Bible and doesn’t really like sex and you want to stick that thing where? Ewww! She’s perfect.