I probably shouldn't do this. But it's my blog and I can cry if I want to. Actually, I'm not going to cry, I'm going to post something from Liberalstein, a self published satirical novel I wrote four years ago. It's that book over there in the left column. You can still buy it from iUniverse, but I'm not trying to hawk the book here. As a matter of fact, if you're a regular reader of my blog, I'll send you one free if you want it. I've got 4 or 5 extra copies of my own that are collecting dust. Just let me know by email where to send them.
Why post anything from the book now? Well, here's the deal. I'm no political prognosticator or anything, but a lot of what I wrote in 2006 has happened. Don't get me wrong. I made plenty of mistaken predictions. For example, I had the Hillary candidacy defused by offering her VP on the ticket. But I got a lot right too.
The book originated in my speculations about the kind of candidate this generation of Democrats would pick in 2008. Anyone who looked at the past history of this current crop of libDems (they got their first taste of power and came of age in the turbulent 60's and early 70's) would have easily been able to make the same prediction.
I think many people also knew that such a candidate like Obama would turn out to be a disaster. An extreme liberal socialist monster. Anyway, I took this speculation based on history, fictionalized it, and used the famous Mary Shelley Frankenstein story as a framework.
The main character in the book is a mad liberal scientist named Victor Liberalstein. He's hired by Howard Steam (yuk!) chair of the DNC to clone the perfect candidate so the Dems can capture the White House in 2008. Victor has been busy in lab for a few months trying to activate a clone and to give it the genetic makeup he knows will be the kind of candidate Steam and all Dems will love.
As he waited on Albore to bring the wine, Victor walked slowly down the aisle between the lab’s ten top secret hyper-genesis tanks. The stainless steel containers with partial plexiglass lids each contained a single dummy clone which floated in a glowing green activation solution. He paused momentarily to examine the blank clone labeled X-1, which, like the others in the X series, was custom designed to accept multiple donor genes. Staring into the clone’s dead, lifeless pupils, Victor shook his head in dismay. Still no signs of elemental biological activity.
As a lightning flash illuminated the dimly lit lab, Victor glanced at the shelf above X-1. His keen eyes scanned the display case containing his esoteric collection of sixties and seventies liberal memorabilia. He smiled. Even in the worst times, looking at his collection always made him feel better. To him, the items represented the origin, the source waters of the mighty river of modern day liberalism. He switched on the small display lamp, removed the case lid and looked at his treasures – personal items from four liberal icons of the sixties and seventies.
13 LSD laced brownies baked by Timothy Bleary in 1964
12 vomit spattered ties owned by gay poet and pederasty supporter Allen Ginsbugger (worn while he delivered marijuana fueled howls to the Yippies at the 1968 Democratic convention)
25 twisty hairs from the Afro of black activist Demona Davis in 1970 when she was a Communist and on the FBI’s most wanted list
A locked, hand carved mahogany box containing Victor’s most coveted possession...
He turned the key on the box, slid open the top, and stared in awe at ten pairs of panties worn by Jane Fondue during her trip to Hanoi in 1972.
The sacred underwear was in varied colors: red, pink, black, green, white, silver. And Victor’s tests had later confirmed what the souvenir salesman had claimed – Ho Chi Minh’s DNA was on all the panties as well as Jane’s and Tom’s. Victor held up a single pair of the panties, a green bikini style confection. He sniffed the silk. After all these years, there was still a faint whiff of perfume.
As he carefully laid the panties back in the box, Victor rubbed his finger tips lightly over the silk. The pleasurable tactile sensation triggered his favorite fantasy, winging him all the way back to those golden days – that exciting and chaotic time at the dawning of Postmodern Liberalism, a wild time of uninhibited self indulgence and total rejection of all authority.
Woodstock. Free Love. Flower Power. Black Power. Dope Power. Sex Power. Student Power. The Viet Cong. 1972. Hanoi. Jane and Tom. He gave himself over now, losing himself in the dream. He was in a Russian airliner beside Jane, flying to visit the wartime enemies of the US. Tom for some unforseen reason had been unable to make the trip and Victor had been selected as his last minute replacement. As the plane touched down in Hanoi, Jane leaned into him to help with his seatbelt and he felt her hair on his face and smelled her perfume. “You’re replacing Tom,” she whispered huskily, “in matters sexual as well as political....”
A bolt of lightning and a loud crash of thunder startled Victor out of his reverie.
Okay. That's enough. What do you think? Am I right about those symbolic items I used to represent what Victor calls "the source waters of the might river of modern day liberalism? Here are those items stripped of their symbolism, straight up, no ice:
*radicalize the culture by legitimizing drugs, destigmatizing gays, etc.(Bleary, Ginsbugger),
*introduce identity politics portraying blacks and other minorities as victims of oppression (Davis),
*popularize socialist/marxist ideas among young Americans (Davis, Fondue),
*glamorize pro communist, anti-war and anti-American activities (Davis, Fondue).
By the way, can you guess what will happen to those memorabilia items positioned just over the hypergenesis tanks?