Obama, Save Me From Your Followers!

As much as I love, you know, to see nuns get their comeuppance, I have to ask: were the twelve nuns who were denied the opportunity to vote in the Indiana primary a very small part of a larger attempt by the Obama campaign to stymie the Catholic vote, which did not show well for him in Pennsylvania?

Alay, the howling for Clinton’s inevitable dropout increased in decibel level this week and it still sounds the same as it has since February; an activist media conjoined with a blind, faith-based fever squad of followers at once angry and frightened that someone, a woman, is keeping from them what they’ve perceived is theirs by divine right. I am reminded of the documentary Capturing the Friedmans in the scene where television reporters have descended on the pedophile’s home for the first time and the family is in the yard, one son donning his own tighty-whiteys over his head and yelling delirously in order to distract from the horrible discovery. And no, mes bon amis, I am not linking the Senator to some exotic child porn ring; rather it is the followers, the pundits, and certain terrified Democratic Party leaders who shriek and cry for fear it might be discovered that the party’s primary system is as decrepit and unsafe as a loose-bolt roller coaster. Their multi-grain blend of caucuses, primaries, and superdelegates is some Montessori nightmare game where everybody gets to tally their own points and cry when they aren’t declared the winner after all.

Though late in the game, I suppose it was I who was naïve when I encountered a music writer and friend of artist Shepard Fairey and ran against that still dumb and twinkly eyed glow which perceived me as, not being a native, working class white person (I am, as you know, a stunning Quebecour and standard bearer of tangy journalism and Canadian Hip-Hop!), surely in the Obama camp. He blissfully regaled me of the beauty of the impending change would only the monster leave the room, and my queries as to what that actually meant, policy-wise were met with ranting about crossing of the aisle. When I suggested that Obama had really yet to demonstrate the ability to cross party lines, he looked at me like I was an out of order ATM, withdrew his card and walked away.

I, for one, will be happy to know that at the very least, an Obama presidency would change the way millions of children think with regard to the wells of possibility from which they may draw in their lifetime, but am mortified that the road upon which that is laid is so populated by reeling fanatics unable to grasp the political realities of backing an unseasoned candidate.