Artist's Statement
I was back at my Undisclosed Location all
last week, happily deaf to the incessant twittering of
the media. I’ve returned to The Turret in New York
to learn that I didn’t miss much. The Republicans
have made history by nominating a woman to the powerless
symbolic position of the vice-presidency only a quarter-century
after Democrats did the same thing. Perhaps in 2032 they’ll
nominate a black man, too, and who knows?—maybe by
the year 3000 they’ll support civil unions for homosexuals.
A hurricane has not struck New Orleans. And O dear Lord,
a teenager is pregnant, sweet Jesus, let’s all drop
everything and pretend to have strong opinions about this
until something else happens. It’s enough to make
you long for another terrorist attack.
The turtle has not been returned. They will
rue the day.
In the middle of my pleasant media blackout
I actually went out to my local Cecil County bar to watch
Obama’s inauguration speech on television. I don’t
own a television and so do not participate in any mass
spectatorial experiences, which perhaps helps to account
for my idiosyncratic view of world events. (Reading and
listening are a lot more conducive to emotional detachment
and active critical engagement than watching.) The last
major real-life event I saw on television was the collapse
of the World Trade Centers on 9/11, which rendered me temporarily
insane. But I felt that the nomination of our nation’s
first black Presidential candidate by a major party was
worth watching on live TV. But all seventeen of the bar’s
TVs were showing football. So I walked out and bought a
moosetracks-flavored ice cream cone at a little summer
ice cream stand instead, and then went home and listened
to the speech on the radio.
It’s been a tempestuous relationship
with Obama--lot of ups and downs. I’ve written in
previous artist’s statements about my colleague Sarah’s
infatuation with Obama and my wistful jealousy of her genuine,
uncynical enthusiasm for a political candidate. I was literally
just about to send his campaign a check the day before
the FISA vote---I had even addressed the envelope--and
then suddenly I was like: wait, who is this guy
again? Matt Taibbi’s depressingly well-researched essay
on the Obama’s campaign donors dampened my initial
infatuation further, like learning that your excellent
new girlfriend is heavily into Ayn Rand or is also seeing
that asshole Marc who works down in marketing. The sorts
of sententious dullards who manufacture conventional wisdom
on op-ed pages like to affect a condescending bemusement
that Obama’s naïve young supporters are surprised
that he turns out to be just another politician--as though
maturer, more worldly types are comfortably used to being
lied to and spied on by the government and to no one being
held accountable for any of it ever. I myself would argue,
rather, Fuck that. So I didn’t send my check and
for a while Barack and were on the outs. It was sad. I
still saw his name and his face on T-shirts on the street
and I felt like I was no longer a part of it.
Then my friend Boyd, who also likes to
let me know important plot points of movies I haven’t
yet seen, informed me that McCain was even with Obama in
polls, and that some even showed him slightly ahead. It
beggared my imagination that anybody other than his immediate
family or the mentally retarded would vote for George Bush
in 2004; that anyone would vote Republican now,
after the last eight years, leaves me, for once, so boggled
as to find myself without comment. The stupidity of the
American voter is without limit; it is like perpetual motion,
like faster-than-light drive, freakish, impossible, an
affront to the laws of nature. Half the people in this
country apparently feel they haven’t been fucked
over quite enough yet. They are still optimistic that things
could be worse. But this seems like it might serve as the
text for next week’s cartoon, so I should probably
quit while I’m ahead.
Anyway, the nomination speech reminded me
why I got on board the Obama bandwagon in the first place.
Also persuasive--especially to repentant 2000 Nader voters
like myself--was Al Gore's stern "I told you so" speech,
pointing out that the last eight years would've been very
different if he had been president. John McCain is a likeable
guy in many ways, but I still can't think of a single issue
I agree with him on. He may not be anywhere near as wilfully
stupid and mean-spirited as George Bush, but he's still
a Republican, and, as Anne LaMott once wrote about the
nicest two-year-old she knew, "it's sort of like being
the nicest Nazi--he's still a Nazi." So okay: I will
glumly send the check. And I will urge all of you reading
this not to let well-deserved cynicism serve as an excuse
to sit this one out. I'll tell you right now I'm not drawing
another four years of political cartoons. Life is too short.
Thanks to Ellen, Berkeley, Boyd, and Dave,
for their ideas and to everyone else who politely tolerated
my working on this cartoon in the Adirondack chair at my
cabin this weekend instead of being an attentive host.
And thanks to Webmaster Dave for the mint juleps.
Do not forget our donation button, directly
below; and thanks again to everyone who's contributed so
generously.
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