Desertscope

Musings from Southern New Mexico

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Beck’s Rubes

February 3, 2013 /

You may remember this bit from a few years back:

This was shocking to approximately no one. Then there was the uncomfortable silence as we all stood by watching Beck separate old fools from their money, whilst filling the coffers of his shady partner in not-quite-but-should-be crime. I mentioned a while back the Dollywood for Gun Nuts that was proposed by too-nuts-for-TV-crackpot-Jesus Glenn Beck.

While his audience of terrible people, ignorant people, and white supremacists/Christian nationalists (obviously, these groups are not mutually exclusive) were duped into driving the price of gold from less than $900 an ounce to over $1900 an ounce, they became equally invested in accepting his claimed worldview. In the same way that parishioner victims of a fraud-perpetrating clergyman (but I repeat myself) often defend him to the end, Beck’s rubes are unable to accept the obvious. In the same way that some women can’t ever be convinced that the sole reason right wing loons (RWLs) so assiduously strive to illegalize abortion is that forced childbirth is the single most important weapon in keeping women in their place, the Beck flock actively ignores every red flag.

… but I digress …

I’m not an advocate for advancing children ahead of their age-peers. One reason is that life is difficult for a child a full year behind his classmates in social maturity. Having become jaded by classmates taking advantage of my obvious naïveté, I turned a bit cynical as to the intentions of anyone trying to convince me to do anything. Over the years, this has proven advantageous in the presence of charlatans. Beck’s rubes don’t have that going for them. What I find odd is that they are willing to accept his buffoonish con at face value, while accepting his over-the-top stupid conspiracy theories even when they contradict other Beck-proffered conspiracy theories. I feel sad for the Beck rubes. They don’t even get that, as much as any Obamaphilic liberal on the planet, Beck himself is laughing at them.

The Mexican Immigrant Model

February 2, 2013 /

David Frum’s portion of the Daily Beast had a post up titled Limbaugh: Difference Between Cubans and Mexicans is… containing this Limbugh quote:

[T]he way the Republicans are looking at it is that they think that Hispanic immigrants are made-to-order conservatives. For some reason, culturally, they think that they’re invested in hard work. And using the Cuban exile model, they’re exactly right. But the Hispanic demographic, if you will, or population, has shifted. And the Cuban exile model is no longer the dominant model. The Mexican immigrant model is. And that — they arrive with an entirely different view of America. And I’m sorry if this is offensive, but it’s true.

You see, the Cubans’ embrace of the right wing is due to their work ethic. Unlike most “ethnics,” Cubans are not chronic layabouts. Look at any constructions site in New Mexico at lunchtime. The majority of these so-called “workers” will be of the “Mexican immigrant model.” There they sit, moochers and looters eating some vile ethnic fare, even as society’s producers like whites and Cubans toil away in air-conditioned office buildings.

I would hold that one can objectively claim that if you listen to Rush Limbaugh, you are a pox on the society in which you live.

Serious? Ly?

January 30, 2013 /

I’m sure I’m a bit late on commenting on the Dewar’s ad. I had to go in to work early this morning, and somehow the conversation turned to wines. I thought I would make it a little more low-brow, so I introduced Night Train. My interest was piqued, and when I got home, I sought more information on such oenophilic delights. As I have the attention span of a toddler, I followed a number of different paths until I ran into the aforementioned:

Dewar’s Scotch claims to be for “serious” drinkers. Maybe it’s the cynic in me, but I when I think of “serious” drinkers, the starting point of my Google soujourn is what comes to mind:

Ted Nugent, “Warrior”

January 28, 2013 /

If he isn’t already, Ted Nugent should be the poster child for all things right-wing-loon.

Assuming you don’t want to hear the obnoxious affectation of his vocal inflection that sounds far more like a speech impediment than how he probably thinks it sounds, here is the gist:

Barack Obama is

“… attempting to reimplement [sic] the tyranny of King George that we escaped from [sic] in 1776. And if you want another Concord Bridge, I got some buddies …”

He was available for service during a time when few volunteers were turned away. Somehow, despite him having claimed no infirmity or malady precluding service, he never did serve. To be fair, he had been declared unfit for service. How? According to a High Times interview, Mr. Nugent spent the days prior to his draft physical eschewing personal hygiene, to include defecating in his pants*.

But what I really don’t get is how an obvious dimwit with serious personal issues (which, oddly enough for his chosen profession, have nothing to do with controlled substances) has come to be accepted by seemingly sane people as an appropriate icon for their brand of politics.

A thing about tyranny is that is lends itself well to simple tests. Mr. Nugent is trying one of my favorites. If you suspect you are living under a tyrannical rule, you can verify it thus:

  1. Publicly accuse the suspected tyrant of being a tyrant.
  2. If you wake up unmolested in your own bed, your hypothesis failed.

*I was unable to verify anything, as all my research pointed to the same few sources. Snopes considered the story unverified. Since I am not a professional journalist, however, I will allow a vaguely sources story.

h/t Little Green Footballs

High School Dramas

January 26, 2013 /

It’s been around for a while, but the genre of television-delivered brain atrophy therapy known as the high school drama keeps intruding into commercials. Granted, my viewing of those commercials implies I am already undergoing a less potent form of the same therapy. Nevertheless, I am compelled to comment on that particular genre to my ones of readers.

I am reminded of the Bruce Springsteen song, Glory Days. It is an upbeat tune, but listening to the words is an exercise in depression.

I think I can make a general description of those people whose glory days occurred in high school: sad. I understand that there are exceptions. Many Olympic athletes certainly did attain a certain glory at that age, but for the most part the rest of us find it completely forgettable. I think we do our children a serious disservice by allowing them to believe that high school soap opera and sports will have any lasting interest for them later in life.

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