As a regular guy, I am bored with the presidential race at this stage. Maybe that's because at this stage the race hasn't begun. Or maybe it's because I already know that no matter what happens electorally and infotainingly-wise, little to nothing will change as a result of the ballot box. The US system is designed for slow, inexorable change with its chief feature being outright gridlock.
I want Bernie Sanders to win. Yet Bernie has not evolved. He was born into this race with a certain message and he has stuck with that message. Don't get me wong. It's a great message, the correct message for the times, a leading edge message (at least as far as Washington, DC dipshitism is concerned).
But he is not only being defined by his message, I am afraid that is what he is: a message. The Amerikkkan sheeple will not elect a message to the White House. They want a flesh and blood dynamo, particularly one who will kick ass on all those Muslim-Mexicans lurking beneath their virginal angelic white granddaughters' boudoirs.
Yes, Bernie has fallen into a dogmatic slumber. He is all message all the time. He might a well be that Lincoln robotic figure at Disneyland. You really can't tell the difference.
OTOH, the sheeple demand a better puppet show, and preferably an infotaining one.
We don't get that with the Bern. With the Bern we get all message all the time.
I still say Bernie is 50-50 for the Demotardic nomination. Nothing will change that opinion before the Iowa caucuses and New Hampshire primaries take place. My colleague here states that the polls are obsolete. Maybe. Maybe not. Time will tell. What we do know for certain is that polls are meaningless at this stage. Especially national polls.
And readings of polls are clearly meaningless but some are more infotaining than others.
This one, from my favourite infotainment site, 538, is interesting and timely because it colours an internal debate raging here at DFQ2: what qualities exactly make a guy a "regular guy."
The esteemed social theorist Leonardo Doritos enjoys referring to himself (and me too on the occasions when I am not a "DLC plant" or a garden variety pedophiliac "paid fake") as a "regular guy."
Now, I am old school. I came of age in the 60s working class milieu of Southern Californiadise.
In my day a "regular guy" swung a hammer or a paint brush. He maybe mowed a rich guy's lawn or fucked the rich guy's wife while the rich guy was at work making more money than the regular guy even dreamed of earning.
Unfortunately, that was my dad doing the fucking, not me. But I learned by watching and understanding more than by hearing about his exploits from the old man.
He was a regular guy. Regular guys kept their mouths shut. I grew into one of those hippie types, peace/love/smoke-it. We definitely did not consider ourselves "regular guys."
Some of us went to college, many of us being the first in our family trees to do so. We were "smarty pants faggots" to our dads. Not regular guys. Some of us dodged the draft. We were "anonymous cowards." Not regular guys.
In our world, a guy with two masters degrees in social theory by definition could not be considered a "regular guy" no matter how hard he worked at being one.
Regular guys back in the day became the "silent generation". They took over politics in 1968 and their dear leaders were Nixon, then Reagan. Now fast forward to the present.
For all intents and purposes, blue collar unions are dead. The "silent generation" is gasping it's final breaths through ventilators and oxygen tanks strapped to their elderly behinds.
These are the Trump supporters.
Today there is no good job available unless you have a college degree and increasingly even that degree is worthless unless it is in a hard science for which "regular guys" of the Caucasoid persuasion need not apply. We are too dumb and/or wasted too much precious time infotaining ourselves and forgot to get an A in calculus.
To be perfectly frank, I'm not even sure what calculus entails. Do they even teach calculus anymore?
I cheated my way through high school algebra and my science electives in college were Human Sexuality and Astronomy. Alternately, this means I had my head buried in some girl's ass or in the stars or in the stars in some girl's ass. Yes, I turned on, tuned in and dropped out. (Ed. Note - Tale eventually graduated by going to night school).
Ultimately, all experiences are unsatisfying (sayeth the preacher) but thanks for the mammaries, ladeez!
I realize this piece is a mailed-in series of Socratic-wannabe digressions hoisted atop other digressions. We are not Worthy.
The point is, or maybe it's the most vital question during this election Season in Hell: what defines a "regular guy" in the second decade of the 21st Century?
Enquiring minds want to know.