Radical Georgia Moderate

It was the same year I turned 21. At the time, I was smack in the middle of a three-month alcoholic stupor that caused all others before and since to pale by comparison. A handle of Jim Beam and two eighteen-packs of Icehouse were prerequisites for a given week during that stretch. Food Lion on Chapman Highway sold the almost-cases of cans for around $7.00 each, which was cheaper per ounce than anything anywhere at the time, including Natty, the Beast, and PBR.

Crossing the Chapman Highway bridge causes the pseudo-cosmopolitan veneer and burnt waffle odor lingering in the Knoxville air to rapidly give way to East Tennessee’s country white trash roots. Each passing quarter mile would feel like peeling a coat of paint off a rotting tool shed to someone who was inclined to look down their nose at white trash. I was middle class all the way, but I’m sure I participated in some subconscious snobbery.

Anyway, the 36 beers were used almost entirely as chasers for the cheap bourbon, which I often drank straight from the bottle in motions resembling the way one might tip a gas can into the opening of a lawnmower’s engine. Trekking to a third-rate white trash grocery store to load up on cheap booze made the process feel complete.

I had just started seeing two girls at the time, who happened to both be sorority girls (”sorostitutes” was the impolite colloquialism), though one was home in… whichever state she told me she was from. There was still the chance open the other might not have anything to do for New Year’s. We both were at our respective parents’ houses for Christmas, and she ended up calling me on the 26th or 27th. She asked me if I was doing anything New Year’s, and naturally, with me seeing two girls at once my arrogance meter was off the charts, I all but blow her off.

“Maybe I’ll be in town,” I told her.

“Okay, well, I’ll be in town…” she tells me in an impish, disappointed-sounding voice.

Long story short, I fucked that up and ended up hanging out with my friend Mike, who was a neighbor that year and would become a roommate the next year. There were a couple of bottles of champagne that probably were purchased in some sad hope the girl with two first names would have a change of heart and come crawling back to me, groveling and pleading imploringly for the pleasure of a few hours of my company. It’s obvious how that turned out.

Midnight rolled around, but there was no champagne to toast with, since Mike and I had motored through both bottles, as well as the ten or twelve beers remaining in the fridge from God-knows-when. And a lot of the liquor.

On a whim, we streaked around the entire apartment complex, me wearing nothing but a scarf, sunglasses, and a pair of gloves; and he a ski mask. The air was freezing, and the apartment complex we lived in mostly dead, so barely anyone could live vicariously through our gleeful drunken haze. We were almost too tired to run when we found a party to flash. We danced and jumped around like spider monkeys hopped up on speed, appendages that need not be mentioned moving in ways that need not be described, as a modest crowd of strangers cheered us on and feigned disgust.

We ran a while longer and found another party, drawing a similar reaction. Someone standing on the balcony photographed us. When I run for president one day, if what I write in this blog isn’t enough incriminating evidence, surely that photograph will surface.

Streaking lost its luster after the second party, so we returned to the apartment, put our clothes back on and wondered out loud, “What next?”

Of course, the natural thing to do was to return to one of the parties wearing our gym shorts, t-shirts, and flip flops in the skin-blistering cold. Mike offered a half-hearted pretense that he thought he knew someone there, which turned out to be bunk, of course. The joke of it was it turned out the guys hosting the party had planned a near-perfect one-to-one male-female ratio, which Mike and I shattered with our attention-sucking half-naked alcohol-fueled boisterousness. We instantly were the center of the universe with whatever drivel was spouting from the depths of our gullets, and caused exponentially-building resentment among the two fellas who were clearly the hosts.

I’d be lying if I said I’d have rather been doing that than getting laid that New Year’s, but it was still a hoot.

In just more than an hour, I’ll be off to a friend’s party. I doubt I’ll be doing any streaking, but if there’s anything worth photographing it might just show up here. No promises though. Feliz blah blah blah.

For parties at other people’s houses, free champagne tonight, and especially for free Checker Cabs in metro Atlanta on New Year’s, which I learned about on 11Alive:

If you have too much to drink New Year’s Eve, 11Alive News has a partnership with the Checker Cab Company and Team Georgia that will get you home for free. If you have too much alcohol, don’t even try to drive, instead, call (404) 351-1111 for a free ride home.

As I understand, something like 200 businesses and organizations chip in to pay for it, but since I saw it on 11Alive first I’ll give them the credit. I’ve already got it programmed in my cell.

You may be a seasoned veteran of carving sneaky paths through neighborhood back roads after tying a few on, but keep in mind that New Year’s is when all the amateurs emerge from their basements to get their once-or-twice-yearly drink on. As such, look at calling a cab as not wanting to risk some dumb fucking soccer mom tipsy off two glasses of Korbel plowing into your car. Let the cab company take that risk. Plus, the cops will be all over the fuckin’ place, and one drink might be enough to get you a DUI with Officer Hardass on the case sniffing for the slightest hint of that sweet, sweet sauce.

UPDATE: Also, hurrah for Spam Karma, which has zapped close to 100 spam comments in the past 24 hours without letting a single one through. Jeebus.

Many political observers note that Democrats have become the “mommy” party and Republicans the “daddy” party. This phenomenon started after the 1960s, when the anti-Vietnam crowd took over the Democratic Party. Previous to that, the question of what it meant to be a Republican versus what it meant to be a Democrat was one simply of large government versus small government. Over the span of just one generation, Republicans co-opted nearly everything that made the old Democratic Party great and perverted it (ex: Democrats, as the party of large government, also used to be the party of national security and a strong military, but that didn’t mean jingoism as it does to the Republicans).

With roots planted firmly in images of cattle drivers and gold panners from the Western frontier, American society has always preferred the spirit of independence to that of rule by committee. Since that spirit of independence is generally associated with masculinity while communal values are associated with femininity, when Americans are presented with a choice between a “mommy” politician and a “daddy” politician, they’re more prone to choose a daddy politician. Bill Clinton was successful in part because he understood that American character trait, even going so far (in an interview with Time Magazine when his autobiography was released that is no longer online) as to use the words “mommy traits” and “daddy traits” when discussing what it takes for a politician to be successful.

In the wake of yet another catastrophic election for Democrats, and the realization that two-thirds of the country is rapidly slipping out of their grasp, they must do something to shake this “mommy” mentality and promote itself instead as a two-parent household.

• The daddy way: A state dedicated solely to protecting its interests is one that will eventually collapse from neglecting to maintain it interests
• The mommy way: A state dedicated solely to maintaining its interests is one that will eventually collapse from neglecting to protect its interests

The question is one of pragmatism versus radicalism. Applying a broad ideology to all problems, regardless of the practicality of the solution, is radicalism. Both parties are guilty of this, but when confronted with one brand of radical versus another, Americans are likely to choose the masculine radical, as evidenced by the last thirty years of presidential elections (Jimmy Carter being the obvious exception, due to a backlash against Vietnam, Nixon’s corruption and fatigue from his Law and Order State, and Gerald Ford being perceived as a dolt).

Of course, it’s all much more complicated than just the daddy vs. mommy metaphor, but that’s one of many areas for Democrats to generally look at from a promotion standpoint. I’m probably just unconsciously rehashing something someone else has already written, but this was what was going through my head this morning.

Jesus. This tsunami is the worst disaster I’ve ever heard of. I guess I’m so desensitized and jaded it’s nearly impossible for me to form any emotional attachment to the victims (see also: Mark’s post). That’s despite all the pictures, footage, and factoids like this on the World Health Organization website:

[B]etween 3 to 5 million people throughout the region are unable to get the basic requirements that they need to survive and cope.

So, I did the American thing and threw some money at it through Amazon’s website. They’ve collected more than $4 million for the Red Cross as of when I’m writing this. Any little bit can help.

A day after Shirley Franklin said the city of Atlanta will fine Druid Hills Golf Club up to $90K for denying gay members spousal benefits, Republican Rep. Earl Ehrhart of Powder Springs came to the club’s defense. As quoted by the AJC (login), Ehrhart sounded like a basketball player who had trained for months in preparation for the big opening day game, only to have the other team forfeit because its bus wrecked on the way to the arena:

A powerful Republican legislator said Tuesday that he will submit legislation that would block Atlanta from penalizing Druid Hills Golf Club for denying spousal benefits to partners of gay members.

“The city is going to pursue its route, and I have to pursue mine,” said Rep. Earl Ehrhart (R-Powder Springs), who is in line to become chairman of the House Rules Committee, which decides which bills are actually debated on the House floor.

I did find Franklin’s response to be bizarre though:

“I certainly wouldn’t comment on what things the state Legislature may do.” But she said later that if the General Assembly passed such a bill, “the city would follow the laws of the state.”

Ehrhart already proposed this bill last year, but it died in the Democratic House. So it was all but inevitable he would reintroduce it this year with a Republican House. As Joseph and Sid have noted in the comments, Franklin was going to have to cave to the pressure from her gay constituency eventually on this (stupid) issue.

Unsubstantiated speculation time: By bringing this to the forefront now rather than later, Franklin can keep appearances of having done the “right thing” with her substantial gay constituency. Thus, she isn’t blamed by the gays when the legislation almost inevitably passes. The golf club wins because the mayor’s sanctions will mean nothing (not that $500 per day means much to a club that charges a $40K membership fee). Meanwhile, Ehrhart gains political capital among his GOP brethren for appearing to take the “queer-loving” mayor on — and winning. It works out almost well enough to have been planned that way. The primary question remaining is what will this cost Dems outside Atlanta? Did Mayor Franklin sell them out to save her own ass?

Steve Huff has a new blog dedicated to true crime posts. Check it out.

Reflecting back on 2004, I can only remember reading six or seven books total. Maybe there were more, maybe not. While I do take in a pretty insane load of magazine and newspaper articles (and I did co-write a screenplay with Reggie as well as keep up a near-daily blogging pace), it’s not the same thing as sitting down and reading a book. So, my New Year’s Resolution is to read at least 24 books next year. That’s two per month. Shouldn’t be too hard.

UPDATE: Dylan is in on this one too. Anyone else feel like they’re not reading enough? The tentative plan is to write mini-reviews of each book on our respective blogs, and for there to be nagging if at least two don’t show up each month.

UPDATE 2: Awesome, Brian is in too.

I‘m feeling sick again today, having failed to shake the cold I caught God-only-knows how many weeks ago. So, sorry for not jumping back in the discussion down there, responding to other comments, etc. Here’s some more food for thought, as you might have read by now on Sid’s blog or Blog for Democracy. Mark Taylor spokesman Rick Dent on the Cathy Cox announcement:

“Now we will see if Mark Taylor’s experience, his record on schools, jobs and protecting families and his moderate views on the issues can beat a liberal like Cox in a Democratic primary.”

Opening shot across the bow in the 2006 race… It will be interesting to see if Taylor’s strategy of dropping L-bombs to frame Cox as left of Lenin works out in the coming two years. I cringed when I read the quote, but it’s basically what I’ve been asking for (get down in the mud with the Republicans), so I can’t really complain.

What you may or may not have read (I hadn’t yesterday) was Cox’s response (login):

“It’s very amusing this is the game, once again, the good ol’ boys want to play.”

Ha! Spoken like she’s an outsider. She only works across the hall from the governor. I like it though, because she managed to stay somewhat above the fray while still getting her jab in.

Atlanta Mayor Shirley Franklin fined the Druid Hills Golf Club $90,000 today (login) for violating the city’s “human rights ordinance” since it won’t extend spousal benefits to gay members. Joseph has already covered why burning these arguments on a private golf club is a bad idea.

First of all, let me say that anyone who is a member of a country club—particularly Druid Hills—is an asshole. The reason people join these places is so they can exclude others (it costs $40,000 to join this club, and $475 a month in dues—at the very least they’re excluding anyone who’s not rich), so I am not sure why people are surprised when this place doesn’t treat gay people as equal members. That’s the game and if you don’t like it, don’t fucking play! The people who filed this lawsuit in the first place are privileged gay assholes who are annoyed because the straight assholes aren’t being nice to them. I say fuck them all.

And Sid has already covered why Democrats are generally pursuing a bonehead strategy when it comes to all things gay, referring in this particular case to the ACLU vocally challenging the Republicans’ bigoted state constitution amendment 1.

Let’s out think and in effect preempt the bastards, and deprive them of another sure victory.

Rushing to court and having amendment #1 declared unconstitutional (because of the multi-topic issue that does make it unconstitutional under Georgia law in my opinion), could help, as noted in the title to my 10-28-04 post, Sonny Boy to lose the battle (in court) and win the war (a second term as Governor).

Why on earth give the GOP more ammunition when they’ll likely be able to recycle the marriage amendment for 2006? Especially on behalf of “privileged gay assholes who are annoyed because the straight assholes aren’t being nice to them”? Christ. This isn’t a fight that can be won right now, but can be later if more Dems are elected to office. More strategy, less principles please.