Fear and loathing in 2024

Miss Mia Sopaipilla mans (cats?) the National Affairs Desk in our bedroom.

It was not quite 4:30, and I was not quite up.

I was awake, rolled up in the blankets like a strip of bacon in a breakfast burrito. But I was in no rush to get unwrapped, gnawed on, and shat out by Election Day 2024.

My Gonzo pin, a gift from a friend during my own Gonzo period.

Like Mike’s bankruptcy in “The Sun Also Rises,” it has finally arrived: “Gradually and then suddenly.”

Don’t worry. I haven’t been reading Ernest Hemingway in the run-up to The Big Show. No, I’ve been wallowing in bits of this and that from Dr. Hunter S. Thompson.

The Good Doktor wrote madly about The Edge, until he finally stepped over it. Nineteen years later, dead by suicide, cremated, and shot from a cannon by Johnny Depp, he still has more class — albeit in a certain Hell’s Angels style — and gave more service to his country than many a president.

Writing about the Hell’s Angels in his book of the same name, HST described people like the ones Herself recently saw herding flamboyantly Trump-flagged pickups up and down Tramway, horns honking:

“They are out of the ball game and they know it, (so) they spitefully proclaim exactly where they stand … Instead of losing quietly, one by one, they have banded together with a mindless kind of loyalty and moved outside the (establishment) for good or ill. (That) gives them a power and a purpose that nothing else seems to offer.”

He may have been a bit premature with the second volume of his “Gonzo Papers,” titled “Generation of Swine: Tales of Shame and Degradation in the ’80s.” If he had kicked his dope-soaked alter ego Raoul Duke to the curb and survived to see this generation of swine — HST would be 87 today — he might have looked back on the ’80s with a certain fondness, even longing.

Describing the difference between the ’60s and the ’80s, between the Watergate and Iran-Contra scandals, he wrote:

The criminals in Watergate knew they were guilty and so did everybody else; and when the dust cleared the crooked president was gone and so were all the others. They were criminals and they had the same contempt for the whole concept of democracy that these cheap punks have been strutting every day. …”

Don’t you wonder what he’d have had to say about the 45th president — impeached twice, beaten in his bid for re-election, tried to reverse the defeat with violence and chicanery, obviously insane, declining hourly — and still within a whisker of winning a second term, going two for three? I know I do.

HST mentioned that guy only in passing, as far as I can recall. But he took note of Joe Biden’s first major presidential-election meltdown over a plagiarism scandal at law school in the ’60s. The candidate who hopes to succeed Biden, Vice President Kamala Harris, had won her first election — as San Francisco district attorney — just three years before HST died in 2005.

So, yeah. HST left the party too early for a change, and more’s the pity. He wasn’t always right, and sometimes wasn’t even readable. But when he was on his game the Good Doktor could walk with the King. Or savage him. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be reading right now as we all tiptoe toward The Edge once again.

Here he is again, quoting John Keats instead of his personal fave, the Book of Revelation:

“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,”—that is all
        Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”

Selah.

• Late update: Seems Charlie Pierce had HST on the brain today too.

Jason Isbell and The Honorables

I wonder whether Jason Isbell ever envisioned himself wearing a tux and singing this song to a bunch of Democrats at their national convention in Chicago.

We didn’t get to hear James Taylor perform — Sweet Baby James got the hook as various The Honorables ran long — but I think Jason pretty much got ’er done.

If I were to give anybody the hook so James could slip in a pertinent lyric or two it would’ve been Dick Durbin, who really phoned it in. Meanwhile, the Hilldebeast reminded us all that she will always be The Smartest Person in the Room, which for my money is one of the reasons why she topped out as secretary of state. But she had the room from jump, so what the hell do I know?

I certainly wouldn’t have cut Georgia Sen. Raphael Warnock, a Baptist pastor and reliable Bringer of the Fire. Not even for Sweet Baby James:

“We must choose between the promise of January 5th and the peril of January 6th, a nation that embraces all of us or just some of us.”

And speaking of fire-bringing, Texas Rep. Jasmine Crockett dropped a few well-placed rounds in you-know-how’s AO while discussing the differences between the two major-party candidates:

“One candidate worked at McDonald’s, while she was in college at an HBCU. The other was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and helped his daddy in the family business: housing discrimination. She became a career prosecutor, while he became a career criminal, with 34 felonies, two impeachments, and one porn star to prove it.”

“Kamala Harris has a résumé. Donald Trump has a rap sheet.”

We were up way past our bedtime watching night one of the DNC and we will not be doing that again. I figure to start paying attention again when Kamala Harris and Tim Walz take the stage as the real, sure-’nough nominees.

Joe Biden was up past his bedtime, too. Swear to Dog, at one point I thought he was talking like the top of the ticket again. But then the boisterous crowd knocked him off track a bit, he started to ramble, and we closed the iPad and called it a night.

Weird, huh?

Happy warriors?

OK, remember July? Everybody who thought we’d be here in August, raise your hands.

Herself and I watched Kamala Harris and Tim Walz rally the troops in Philly last night. I can’t say either of them can sing the old chin music Obama-style, but at this point I’m desperate for a ticket that’s younger than me, reasonably healthy, and joyously pugnacious.

Frankly, it was comforting to see a spark of snarky life in the creaky old Donk-O-Tron 9000™. And given the political realities — anyone been paying attention to what’s happened to other party progressives lately, like Cory Bush and Jamaal Bowman? — ol’ Coach looks like a pretty savvy choice.

I’m not even remotely complacent — we have 90 days to go before shit gets real — but they seem to have backfooted the blowhards for the moment, saving their name-calling for the candidates.

Weird? Creepy? You bet your ass they are, that and more. Say it often enough and maybe the Donks can keep a grip on any wobbly centrists, poach a few independents, and maybe even persuade that mythical handful of Republicans who retain some vestigal sense of shame that these creepy weirdos are not their friends.

Not broken, simply unfinished

Walk this way.

I don’t fly the flag a ton. I know where I live; sometimes I’m happy about it, and sometimes I’m not.

Today, right after Joe Biden’s hand came off the family Bible, I moseyed out front and planted two flags, one for Joe, and the other for Kamala Harris.

I wish I’d had a third one, for Amanda Gorman. But we can’t have everything, not even in a country that’s already better than the one we left at noon today. Another hill to climb.