Mrs Morrison's Hotel

The 100% personal official blog for Patricia Kennealy Morrison, author, Celtic priestess, retired rock critic, wife of Jim

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Location: New York, New York, United States

I was, wait, sorry, that's "David Copperfield". Anyway, I was born in Brooklyn, grew up on Long Island, went to school in upstate NY and came straight back to Manhattan to live. Never lived anywhere else. Never wanted to. Got a job as a rock journalist, in the course of which I met and married a rock star (yeah, yeah, conflict of interest, who cares). Became a priestess in a Celtic Pagan tradition, and (based on sheer longevity) one of the most senior Witches around. Began writing my Keltiad series. Wrote a memoir of my time with my beloved consort (Strange Days: My Life With and Without Jim Morrison). See Favorite Books below for a big announcement...The Rennie Stride Mysteries. "There is no trick or cunning, no art or recipe, by which you can have in your writing that which you do not possess in yourself." ---Walt Whitman (Also @ and

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

You Freakin' Donkeys!

The other day, I was reading my favorite commentator on the state of the universe, Mark Morford (who is truly a god that walks among us, and I strongly urge you to subscribe to his column at SF Gate).

Mark, if I may call him that, was going off brilliantly as usual on how George W. Bush is the worst president this benighted land has ever seen (and certainly the worst unelected one, I say!) and how we—or at least those among us capable of correct and rational thought—are just so numbed and wearied and bewildered by the endless Republican Bushite corruption and LIES and venality and LIES and stupidities and cynical cronyism and sellouts and betrayals and did I mention LIES perpetrated by him and his creatures that we’ve just put our heads down and pulled in our horns like little tired snails and hunkered down in our frail and besieged mollusk shells to patiently await the end of the unelected president’s goddamn swan song in American politics.

What got me wondering, though, as I have for lo these six years of Babylonian Captivity, is why the Democratic Party, the party I have been a lifelong member of and who mostly though not always espouses all my political values and positions, cannot get itself up off its collective ass, or indeed stop BEING collective asses, and FIND A DECENT CANDIDATE WHO CAN MAKE GOOD AND SUCCESSFUL USE OF THE REPUBLICAN VILENESS.

Yeesh! How hard can it BE? People! Democratic National Committee! They’re GIVING it to you! On a PLATE! And yet you don’t seem able to pull your heads out of your Democratic-donkey butts and DO anything about it. You dither and you temporize and you shilly-shally and you get into bed with corrosive potential Constitutional amendments pushed through by cheap hacks calculating to distract us with footwork from the REAL issues and you totally blow the shining, indeed the solid-gold, opportunity you are being handed to boot the bastards out at the mid-term elections. WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU???

I begin to think that inscribed over the entrances to every Capitol building in the world is the legend “All common sense abandon, ye who enter into political careers.” Judging on recent form, I have to say the people who are elected to make those buildings their workplace aren’t fit to run a sandbox, a playground, a day at the beach. They can’t, or won’t, see through the Emperor’s nonexistent new clothes, and if they do, they’re too chicken to say anything about it. Grow a spine, you fucking invertebrates!

Man! Where are the heroes to stand up and speak out and tell it like it is? We used to have such men and women. I remember them. I voted for them. I admired them. Today? Not so bloody freaking much. It’s all spin and reaction, not action. The only action that IS being taken is Republican, and it’s wrong and evil and vomitous. And yet the jellyfish Democrats still can’t seem to pull it together.

Maybe I should run for office. Everybody knows everything about me, so I couldn’t be blackmailed. My electorate would know exactly whom it was getting. I have no elective past history except for student council representative when I was a high-school senior, so I wouldn’t owe a thing to special interest groups. My agenda would be perfectly clear. And, if I do say so myself, I would bring common sense to the table. Not to mention rocknroll.

A delicious scenario. The problem is, I wouldn’t want to actually DO the job. I would want to be dictator and have my own way all the time, which would of course be the best and right and perfect way and anyone who thwarts me would be a moron, and it would never happen. I would use my powers only on the side of good, of course. But isn’t that what they all say at first? Even Gandalf and Galadriel refused the Ring…

Well then, perhaps a lottery to put folks in office. The only stipulation being that anyone who actually WANTS to be President shouldn’t be allowed to enter. In fact, anyone who actually wants to be President shouldn’t be allowed to be at ALL. Ever.

Except for Al Gore and John Kerrey, of course. Hillary, sorry, but you’re unelectable and I’m not so crazy about you lately anyway. Barack Obama, I think you’re terrific but the red-staters would probably shoot you (which of course gods forbid) or themselves (yay!) before they’d let you become prez—or at least throw all sorts of nasty stuff your way.

I feel certain that I am not the only person among my Democratic fellowship feeling this way. So take note, dear duly elected Democratic pols. We’re sick of your cluelessness, and we’re sick of your failing to seize the opportune moment (thank YOU, Captain Jack Sparrow!) and the blazingly obvious issues, and we’re sick of your lack of stones (male and female variety). Now get out there and sack up and DO something.


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