Archive for January 24th, 2004

Gone But Not Forgotten – Dick Who?

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gephart

Spotted in Manchester today, cold, empty and abandoned.

Celebrity Shot of the Day

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hizzoner

Guess who was spotted schmoozing with the Dowbrigade outside the public men’s room at the Manchester, New Hampshire JK Kennedy hockey rink? Why, none other than Mayor Mumbles!

Figures on the ice included John Kerry, Cam Neely and Ray Bourke, and the entire escapade shall be blogged, but we are too beat after all that driving to produce anything but pap right now, Perhaps later tonight.

One Last Look

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The Dowbrigade is heading back up to New Hampshire today
for a final look at the field for the Democratic Presidential nomination.  We’d
like to see Dennis Kucinich, not becasue we think he has any real chance
or that he’s make a particularly competent president, but more due to
second hand respect.  Many people whose work we like have endorsed
Kucinich; Danny Glover, Willie Nelson, Linda Blaire and the guy we voted
for last time, John Hagelin, Phd. With a bunch of supporters like that
you many not win the election, but you could have one hell of a party.
Stay
tuned for a report later today….

 

A Friend in Need

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The Dowbrigade is worried about a
friend
, and wondering
if its time to start planning an intervention. This friend has lately
become obsessed and intoxicated by a highly addictive and ultimately
destructive activity
– American politics. He is losing his perspective, espousing kooky theories,
keeping strange hours, and running with a very disreputable crowd.  Those
of us who care about him are at our wit’s end.

This friend has just been recruited by the teetering Dean machine, to
try to take their internet operation to the next level and reinvigorate
the campaign with a jolt of energy from its cybernetic roots . His
crazy leap onto the sinking SS Dean has us convinced that one of
two theories must be true.  Either (theory one) our fiend’s exquisite
sense of timing in all things technological is mirrored by a previously
unseen
but equally abysmal sense of timing in things political, or (theory
two) the secret hidden cabal atop the major media conglomerates saw him
coming
aboard the Dean campaign and yelled "Yikes!" feeling so threatened that
they decided to pull the plug on the whole Dean phenomena quick, before
it was too
late.

My friend secretly
hopes to crack open the whole campaign from the inside out, to create
an information flow which will beget an energy flow, which will in turn
blow away
the crusty politics-as-usual asphyxiating the national political
consciousness and cutting it off from its lifeblood, the living electorate.
He wants to show the world the true potential of the internet to revolutionize
how the political
process can work in this country.

Alas, how charmingly naive.  As though the vested interests and
savage winners of the multigenerational dogfight for junkyard supremacy
who rule our outlaw empire are just going to roll over and fade away
when an idealist with shiny ideas appears on the scene. It is almost
touching
to see such a sophisticated man-about-the-blogosphere reduced
to
dewy-eyed
innocence.
Doesn’t he know that politics in America is a sick and vicious game,
fraught with treachery and hipocrisy, more often lose-lose than win-win?
Can’t he see that he is being used as a wild-card chip in a desperate
gambit
for
political
survival,
and
that whether the gamble succeeds or fails he will probably be discarded
in a heartbeat when his usefulness is perceived to be waning?

My
friend is normally a grounded and realistic fellow.  His instincts
and sense of timing in his chosen field are legendary, and the Dowbrigade
is in awe of his business acumen and highly developed bullshit detector.
Yet,
as we see him being led down the garden path of American politics with
stars
in
his
eyes
we want to yell, "Watch out, Buddy!"

Unfortunately, we doubt even a well-intentioned intervention would
help at this stage of the game.  He is too far gone, too in
love with the power and illusion of the statesmen’s platform. This
wizened, nearly
jaded
developer has become a virgin again, reborn in the world of national
politics, and who can blame him for being dazzled and charmed by these
master
mesmerizers.  And
yet, seeing so clearly that his heart is bound to be broken
in their soiled and sordid game, how can we stand by and do nothing?

We guess that all we can do is watch, and try to be the best friend
we know how, ready with a sympathetic shoulder and a bit of buck-up-manship
when
the
inevitable come-down hits.  And to assure him that having your
heart broken doesn’t mean you can never love again.  When The
One
shows up, we’ll all be virgins again.