My next “blog” will be a community effort called, “The McCain Wars”. You’ll find it here: http://www.themccainwars.com/. Note that it is not ready yet.

This will be a Future Blog with stories about what life is like in 2009. Gas prices are $11.00/gallon, half of India is buried under nuclear ash because the U.S. attacked Iran and Pakistan picked a fight with Afghanistan, etc., etc. In other words, another president who didn’t understand the true consequences of war is elected.

If you have imagination and can imagine living in this horrific world, feel free to send me an email at chuckwh at hot mail, that’s hot, dot com, and maybe we’ll both decide you can help write this future blog.

Here’s an advance look at the very unfinished banner:

The McCain Wars

Right, Barack?

Or maybe he really thinks we do drink his Koolaid.

My optimist self says he’s doing the trojan horse thing. My pessimist self says he’s discovered Power.

I won’t say I had a terrible childhood, but it was pretty funky. My parents, like a lot of parents, I guess, were not real good role models. Luckily for me, instead of staying angry about it, I sort of moved on and figured it all out, and I’m doing okay these days, even under this economy.

But still, when I was a teenager, I didn’t have posters of anyone. Not even Farrah Fawcett. No sports stars, nobody. No posters. Period.

There are good reasons for this.

I was raised by racists.

I rejected them early. My own parents. I rejected them, and all their heroes. Ike, General Macarthur. Patton.

It was not easy. It still makes my stomach sick with acid when I think about it, but it’s all true. I mean, I knew my dad suffered madly when he saw “those nips” jump off the cliffs at Iwo Jima. It was hard for me to argue that maybe there was no correlation between his heroism and his prejudice.

I remember when I was about 12, I stood up during dinner and screamed at my mother about her racism. Her wooden spoon, which she had used previously to control me, no longer worked, and she was shocked at my disregard for her feelings.

“But the blackies beat me up when I went to school,” she would say.

To this day, I don’t know why I never bought into that story. I just knew, somehow, that there was another side to her tale.

When I was about 14 or 15, my best friend was a black kid named Walt who was about the size of a house, and my mother, when she first saw him, grabbed the kitchen counter to hold herself steady. It was obvious she was praying I didn’t know him in any way.

Me and Walt went to see the Exorcist:

I am pretty sure that Walt held me closer than I held him, but the bottom line is that it was my first foray into that terrible world of Black America, and it wasn’t the difference in our colors that scared the shit out of us. We became best friends for awhile.

After that, I had quite a few more encounters with African Americans. As time went on, and I got older, and drifted away from what little I knew of the African American experience, my little white mind came to a conclusion about black people that may not be PC. I discovered, along my piddling road shared with blacks, that a black man (and maybe woman but I don’t know that personally) is the best friend you can ever have.

It may not be PC to say this, but a black dude, once he trusts you, loves you unconditionally. When you betray him in some way, the hurt on his face ripples across the universe. You can see, in his eyes, the betrayal skip across the stars as if you have insulted the universe itself.

I learned that early, and black people have taught me much. They’ve taught me not to get scared when stupid things in my stupid white collar job go wrong. They’ve taught me to dance, and sing, and to think, mostly, mostly, to think.

I have never had a hero. I am almost 50 years old.

I finally have a hero.

I’m just a stupid white man, who has fallen in love with a black man. It’s not about guilt. It’s about something that black men can give me that I can’t give to myself.

You think Obama is cool for being the first African American presidential nominee representing a major American party? He ain’t got nothing on John McCain, who, if elected, would be the first zombie to be elected President of the United States.

There is growing evidence that McCain, who claims to be 71 years old, actually is deceased, and was brought back to life by genetic researchers based in South San Francisco. This is no internet rumor, the evidence is right here:

It also helps explain McCain’s perplexing inability to remember the facts from one day to the next, a trait that seems to go far beyond what Altzheimer’s can do.

King Abdullah: Welcome my friend. Have you
seen the wondrous cities your policies have created?

Bush: I don’t get out much these days.

King Abdullah: What a shame. Dubai, which is in one of our sister nations
here on the peninsula, is a work of modern art unequalled in Western Civilization.
Have you seen its many wonders?

Bush (looking alarmed): We’re on the Peninsula? I hate the San Francisco
Bay Area!

King Abdullah: You are on the Arabian Peninsula, my little friend.”

Bush: Oh yeah, the land of the Pharoahs. Cool.

King Abdullah (looking pained): We have many incredible structures on
the peninsula, and many great cities are arising from the ashes of your
empire. We are very grateful. There
is Tabouk, and many others. The original Tabouk, as you know, was the
scene of a historical battle during the great times of Mohammed. We employ
many people from impoverished lands, and treat them accordingly.

Bush (thinking he was goosed, smiles): Thank you for that, your highness.

King Abdullah: You are welcome my silly little friend.

Bush: So, oh and thank you for the kiss, too. It was nice. So, as you
know, the American people are mad at me.

King Abdullah (nudges Bush with his elbow with a smile): And they don’t
even know you’re drinking again.

Bush (looking a little embarrassed): I think they’re catching on.

King Abdullah: Well my simple little friend, your family and mine, we
go back a very far way. I remember fondly the bin Ladens telling me how
they were watching TV with your dad when that plane hit one of your buildings. Your dad is said to have been quite impressed with our amateur pilots.

Bush (giggling stupidly): Yeah, eh, so impressed we sold you guys a bunch
more F-15Es.

King Abdullah: Of course, of course. And we are duly pleased. We would
never of course, use them against Israel.

Bush: Oh, I know that. You guys have been my bestest friends since I came
to Washington. Can we kiss again?

King Abdullah: I’m afraid not. You see, I have some bad news.

Bush: Oh. Okay. Well, that’s fine. I’m used to it. Let ‘er rip.

King Abdullah: I’m afraid we have reached the limit of our capacity.

Bush: Hmm. But you seem like such a smart fellow.

King Abdullah: Our oil fields are pumping out as much oil as they can.

Bush: You mean they decide?

King Abdullah: Yes, of course. We have used your magnificent computers
and outsourced several hundred thousand Indian software engineers to create
an AI for our oil fields.

Bush: Wow, that’s neat.

King Abdullah: The oil fields have come to the conclusion that they are
maxed out. But not only that. The earth is dying, and you and China and
the other huge oil consumers will need to figure out how to divvy up what
we are giving you. We could pump more oil till our hair was blonde, but
it wouldn’t stop the inexcorable slide into massive pollution, global warming,
and extinction.

Bush: You’ve always been like a father figure to me, Your Hindness.

King Abdullah (looking down behind him, and at his butt): Don’t do that,
George.

Bush: Sorry. I really learn a lot of things when I talk to you. And the
American people are grateful for your efforts.

King Abdullah (patting Bush on the head): Of course, of course. You’re
a good little man, George. We are very happy for America, too. We are very
happy that you deflected the American public from the truth of how many
of our families here were involved in that terrible accident in New York.

Bush: Whew. It wasn’t easy. I had to invade Iraq.

King Abdullah: You are a very brave little man.

Bush: I like to think so. My dad doesn’t think so. He thinks I’m a dope.

King Abdullah: Your dad is very wise. Here, we have a saying. Follow your
father’s wisdom, and you will understand your heart.

Bush: Wow, that’s pretty cool. What’s it mean?

King Abdullah: In time, my puny little friend, you will learn.

Bush: Thank you master Abdullah.

There is a lot of talk these days of appeasement. But what is lost in the discussion is how Iran was “lost” in the first place. Iran was governed by an extremely unpopular dictator, the Shah (remember the old joke, “‘Iran, Iran’, said the Shah). Iran’s population was upended by the extreme nature of the Shah’s modernization efforts, and it was in full revolution mode when the Shah was forced into exile. In 1953 the United States played a significant role in orchestrating the overthrow of Iran’s popular Prime Minister, Mohammed Massadegh. This effort was led, as you might suspect, by a Republican administration.

It is possible, in fact, probable, that if Republican administrations had kept their noses out of Iran’s internal issues Iran would be a governed by a much more aggreeable regime than it is today.

I guess Obama will end up losing this battle for the nomination.

I really think Hillary is gonna pull this out.

For me, and milliions of Americans, it will destroy what was left of what we call hope.

That town in Arkansas, the town that gave birth to Bill Clinton and Mike Huckleberry, is gonna be the only “hope” that ends up mattering in this election. It’s ironic in a sick, twisted way. Hope, Arkansas, is all the hope we will all ever know, after this election.

It’s tempting to blame Hillary for this, but, just as I blamed the American people for choosing Dubya not once, but, twice, I blame the American people for this obsession over Reverend Rite®.

Americans have always had a weird, twisted relationship with African Americans. Most of the immigrants who helped built America on their backs never got to know the people who really built America. On their backs. It’s a weird thing, that the people who are killing Obama in the polling are the same people who would have loved him 60 years ago, who would have loved his people sweating, building their country.

You would think they would love, and understand, the stuff Reverend Wright was talking about. But instead, they’ve turned against him. The working class said, to the real working, slave class: we have no appreciation what you did for our country, and we hate you for your efforts.

So, they are saying, your punishment is just. You have finally found an idol who is not a sports star. And we will make sure you fight each other forever. And we will destroy him.

That’s the karma going right now. I know *I* can’t make it right. Can you?

KABUL, Afghanistan (CNN) — Taliban militants opened fire at a military ceremony in the capital Sunday morning. A lawmaker, tribal leader and 10-year-old child were killed, but President Hamid Karzai escaped unhurt, according to an official and a statement from Karzai’s office. Hillary Clinton’s claim that she was there has been unconfirmed, although campaign aides were said to be scrambling to find a way to say she was.

Last we heard, he said, “Ahm gettin’ the hell outta heayuh, Hill.”

satired from an article written by Politico’s AMIE PARNES

Text Size:

Look mom! No reporters! Photo: AP

In Philadelphia Monday night for a final rally before the must-win Pennsylvania primary, Chelsea Clinton told a packed crowd that she and her father are having an “implicit competition about who is, like, duh, more normal.”

Bill Clinton is the master of retail politicking, widely acknowledged to have few peers as a campaigner. But ever since the red nosed beacon of 21st century racism began making an utter fool of himself, there’s a case to be made that his 28-year-old daughter is the more valuable advocate for Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton.  After all, she is allowed to speak in front of thousands, but the Clintons won’t let her speak to journalists. Smart move, considering the family’s sordid past. The question really becomes, though, why is the media giving her a free pass? Why are they afraid to ask her questions? Is she still a child?

Meanwhile, the former president has stumbled badly at times, veering wildly off message, picking fights with reporters and making ill-considered comments that have caused his wife’s campaign to relegate him to out-of-the-way locales and made even progressives consider the nickname “Bubba” legitimate fodder. The once-and-maybe-future first daughter, on the other hand, has loosened up and eased into her role as a surrogate, hitting her stride just when her mother needed it most, and done a marvelous job of keeping at arms length from reporters. Sites like Politico unabashedly sing her praises, partly out of fear that the Clintons may somehow still wrest the nomination from Obama and not have access to whatever they think they’ll need access to as journalists, perhaps, or maybe somehow too ashamed to ask why a major political figure like Chelsea will not talk to the press.

And, a major political figure is exactly what Chelsea has become.

Despite the fact that she is now a major figure on the Hillary campaign stump, she will not talk to reporters, and even spurned a child reporter in a now famous diss.

In the last three and a half months alone, Chelsea Clinton has traveled to 37 states, logging more than 75,000 miles on commercial airlines, speaking at more than 115 college campuses and answering more than 1,500 questions in total, said Philippe Reines, a senior aide to the campaign.

“She’s definitely her mom’s secret weapon,” said Erika Alexander, an actress who has appeared on the stump with Chelsea. “[Hillary Clinton] has no better messenger. But if you are a journalist, she’s like a scorpion. Good luck getting near her.”

Chelsea also has helped take some of the burden off her mother by reaching out to undecided superdelegates and placing as many as 80 thank-you calls a day to organizers of fundraisers and other events. The thank-you’s have even included the many vendors that are owed huge sums of money by the Clintons.

Earlier this month, when a small printing press in Pennsylvania sent a bill to the Clintons for a $300,000 printing job, it was Chelsea who called and told them to back off.

And, even earlier this month, when Minnesota superdelegate Nancy Larson decided to endorse Sen. Barack Obama, it was Chelsea Clinton who picked up the phone to find out why.

Larson told The New York Times that the conversation was “heartbreaking” because Chelsea was a “delightful young woman who loves her mother very much. I mean, I could almost hear the suckling still from her pursed little lips, and I now understand why the Clintons are reluctant to expose her to the mass media.” The incident stood in stark contrast to media accounts of Bill Clinton’s private discussion with uncommitted California superdelegates several weeks earlier, in which the superdelegates reported being stunned by his angry response when one of them broached the subject of New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson’s endorsement of Obama.

Asked if Chelsea was proving to be a more effective surrogate than her father, Reines said, “Sen. Clinton is lucky to have two fantastic surrogates who know her best and how great a president she’d be, working tirelessly on her behalf. Well, I mean, I’m not sure Bill would be comfortable being called a surrogate, since he’s used so many surrogates in his marriage, but, well, you know what I mean. ”

So far, then, it is Chelsea who has handled delicate situations with aplomb, and it is Chelsea who has emerged unscratched from public events where her family’s most sensitive issues — such as the Monica Lewinsky scandal — were suddenly and unexpectedly thrust upon her by questioners.

Only once has she drawn unfavorable public notice — and that for an absurdly disciplined approach that led her to refuse an interview request from a 9-year-old student journalist. Since then, the press has gotten smart, and has been afraid to challenge the notion that she should be asked questions on the stump.

Bill Clinton, by contrast, has appeared volatile and contentious at times as he careens from controversy to controversy, seemingly unable to grasp the realities of a new political environment where every statement is captured on audio or video and can be immediately vetted for accuracy.

However, that hasn’t stopped the press from its relentless pursuit of Obama’s relationship with a pastor. The question of this campaign hasn’t been, “How do you control your husband?” It’s been, “how do you control your pastor?”