Obey, and Dance

The above Obey images were taken at the Folsom parade by a friend of my friend and former, roommate, Sammy.

The day after the election brought me an intense high. For eight years, I’d been suffering from political depression. Eight years ago, the last civil conversation I had with my mother was truncated by a fight over Bush’s theft of the presidency. “I don’t see what there is to get so upset about,” she said of the Supreme Court decision to my intense annoyance. For years, I’ve been cherishing a fantasy of humiliating revenge against the Republican party for their crimes. 9/11 only made that worse, as they hijacked the country in a wave of “who the hell are you?” patriotism and an undertow of nationally sanctioned violence. For years, I shared Roger D. Hodge’s eloquently phrased disdain of the Democratic machine for refusing to fight dirty — to fight back at all — against our emerging tyranny.

That depression was palpable all around me. I feel it’s the reason I ended up in an incredibly destructive relationship with Michael. His soft leftyism couldn’t stand up against the system. Rather, it expressed itself in Human Rights mumbo jumbo and a brief fling with Arab fetishism. I ended up being an experiment, a dalliance, that could never last. Political desire doesn’t have longevity. I kept telling him to stop donating to the Gay Human Rights fund. I would have made better use of that money — and it would have lasted longer than our love anyway. This was true Socialism on my part. An investment bank paid him from their ill-gotten gains, he would give me the money, and I, a Communist, would spend it on books.

Election night brought me incredible, unheard of, levels of satisfaction. As states kept tumbling Obama’s way, I felt one long spiritual orgasm after another. I’d given my tacit support to that bitch, Hillary, only because I believed a defeat of the Republicans at her hands would have given me the most satisfaction. I was fine with choosing Obama’s neo-liberalism over the neo-con imperialism of the past eight years only because I feel deep down that Obama was cloned four years ago — specifically designed right before the 2004 DNC to crush the current Republican regime. He was a weapon of the unconscious — the return of the real — that would shatter the psychotic subjectivity that had overtaken our nation. I have no interest in his policies. In fact, I find them rather distasteful. But, like all politicians, he’s a blank screen. He’ll say whatever his advisers project onto him. They already seem like an efficient, effective, bunch.

For all my cynicism, however, I can’t ignore the cultlike, subjective, effects of his victory. People are truly happy. I can see it all over the southside, Chicago, neighborhood where I live. The black people here are teary-eyed and overjoyed. This really means a lot to them. People look at the little black boys and are clearly thinking, “he could be president some day.” I see shoppers buying up copies of every newspaper they can. A friend who works at a frame store tells me that people are pouring in to get their Obama images framed. One woman came up and hugged me. While, I am immune from the optimism, I can see that it’s real for others.

For me, the main effect is that the day after the election I forgot to take my anti-depressant. It was unnecessary. My body felt like I’d already taken it. Not only had the enemy been defeated, but it wasn’t by some guy named John Kerry. It was by a guy with a Muslim name. Irony only made the victory seem sweeter.

I ask all readers to write in to me with their suggestion for the perfect Obama inauguration dance music. Reader, Zed, suggests Chocolate City. “God bless Chocolate City, and its Vanilla Suburbs.” But I’d like a multitude of suggestions to pass onto my musical consultant, Josef, before we decide for Obama.

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4 Responses to “Obey, and Dance”

  1. Christopher O Says:

    The Republicans don’t feel like dancing. No, sir, no dancing today. However, I dance with relief and cautious optimism.I also dance with enjoyment of your particular brand of cynical eloquence.Or is that eloquent cynicism?

  2. Mi Kyung Says:

    I can relate to a lot of this. I’ve alternated between depression and rage over the last 8 yrs. I’ve never felt this elated over an election. At the same time, I don’t care for the adoration impulse, whether it’s the messianic welcome of Obama or the over-identification with Palin. Speaking of Palin, how absolutely freaking beautiful is it that she’s sowing what she reaped right now? And that all the dirt is being aired by McCain’s own people, on Fox?

  3. darknessatnoon Says:

    Miky, Palin is the convenient scapegoat. They intrinsically blame her for their loss when they really should be blaming McCain for choosing the advisers that recommended her in the first place. Power is all about wise delegation, and they failed in that. It’s more of that Death to the Slut dynamic. Then again, when you’re chosen as a token and choose to profit from tokenism, you have no right to complain when you’re finally dispensed with.

  4. Eurhythmaniac Says:

    A Sly and the Family Stone tune for inauguration song: Thank you for Letting Me be Myself again; or I want to Take you Higher.

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