Monday, December 21, 2009

Healthcare guest post

It's only appropriate that archy's first guest post should be Clever Wife telling me what I got wrong (see previous post).
John got one thing wrong. I am not for violent revolution; I'm for bloody revolution. Virtually identical in execution, but sounds far more viscerally satisfying. So as not to make "perfection the enemy of the good" I will settle for mass demonstrations of a slightly more peaceful nature. And I mean, SLIGHTLY. Of course, when I brought this up, John pointed out that mass demonstrations by liberals don't count and aren't covered by the press. With that in mind, I've come up with a few suggestions on how we can get more attention paid to our cause:

1) Everybody show up wearing guns strapped to their thighs, accompanied by big signs that say stupid things. Anything, really, but keep in mind that mangling the words of historical figures always seems to draw a camera or two. Yes, water pistols are acceptable. As are paintball and laser tag guns.

2) Hang something memorable and fairly preposterous from our hats and give ourselves a ludicrous, sexually suggestive name. I had several ideas involving lewd double entendres but am told that swearing admits defeat. So I'm leaning strongly in favor of hanging old-fashioned ballots (think hanging chads) from our hats and calling ourselves the primary voters party. What the name lacks in sexual innuendo, it makes up for in thinly veiled threat.

3) Invite the anarchists as a means of generating the kind of violence that just screams "film at eleven" coverage, while providing ourselves with plausible deniablity (ooh, those bad, bad anarchists. Liberals would never do anything so, you know, viscerally satisfying).

4) Finally, make noise. Make lots and lots of noise. Scream, throw things, play accordions. One of my more conservative friends said that he's sensing a lot of quiet apathy from the Left. I told him that's not quiet apathy he's sensing; it's quiet despair.

And it's the quiet part that's killing us.

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