This won’t make me popular in some neurotic circles, but my Hebrew name means “The Bringer of Light” so I am going to illuminate the obvious for you: Hanukkah is bullshit and Christmas is awesome. When it comes to winter holiday enchantment, our Festival of Lights doesn’t hold a candle to the Festival of Christ.  There are many reasons why Christmas kicks the royal tar out of Hanukkah, but I didn’t fully comprehend them until a few years ago. Unlike many Jewish kids who pine to celebrate the yuletide, I was never ashamed of Hanukkah-I actually took pride in our lackluster, knockoff celebration-and thus remained woefully ignorant of Christmas’s manifest superiority. My gentile classmates got to make cookies shaped like trees and Santa hats, but I busied myself in the back of the room with an activity book of Hanukkah-themed crosswords, mazes and connect-the-dots. As the only Jew in my class, growing up in Alaska, I was special! I got to do my own thing! I didn’t need Christmas!

(Fun Fact: There are not many Jews in Alaska, mostly because Sarah Palin hunts us from her helicopter.)

The bells and whistles of Christmas seemed worthless because I had menorahs, dreidels, latkes and gelt-chocolate coins that Jews use to teach our young children about the glories of compound interest-to occupy my time; they were just as good, right? (Correct Answer: no, they were not.) As the years passed, I evolved from a child to a college student-my central vice evolved from toys to liquor, although my behavior was still “childish” according to various ignorant females-and Hanukkah became more of a joyless obligation: a holiday marked with a shrug instead of celebratory anticipation. It existed, much like homeless people and God, but was not something I bothered to think about, if I could help it, much like homeless people and God. And then my shikse girlfriend’s parents invited me to celebrate Christmas in New England, which changed everything.

At first I nervously turned down their request; I would feel like I were visiting a foreign country without any knowledge of the local customs, such as how to open an advent calendar, or the best way to sit on an old bearded man’s lap as I tell him my deepest desires. (Just kidding, I was already familiar with the latter custom… intimately familiar.) My shikse‘s parents changed my mind, however, when they promised to stifle any discussion of Jesus the Super-Powered Baby, mostly because they are atheists. And guess what? Christmas is FUCKING AMAZING! My family never drank at Hanukkah-everyone knows that Jews can’t drink-but Christmas is a friggin’ booze-fueled bacchanalia: egg nog spiked with whiskey, apple cider flavored with rum (my girlfriend’s grandmother’s recipe-you rock my world, Nana!), and wine by the litre/megalitre/gigalitre/tetralitre/yottalitre. Yes, there is such a thing as a yottalitre, and it will get you fucked up.

I loved the multicolored lights (which become even lovelier as I got hammered on Nana’s apple cider)… the stockings filled with goodies (tiny bottles of Bailey’s Irish Crème)… the communal delight of placing time-treasured ornaments on the tree (none of them Jesus-related)… the warmth of the crackling fire (naked)… scrumptious nutty fudge (the best diarrhea ever)… and the sweaters! Oh my Christ, I even love those horrible scratchy argyle sweaters! And here’s the best part: you get all the gifts on the same day! Gentiles envy Jews for our “eight days of presents,” as if we score eight times as much booty, but in reality we simply ration them over the course of a week, which causes inevitable disappointment. Not every gift is a winner; Day One and Day Two are big scores, but you’re getting useless junk by Day Five… it is more anticlimactic than getting a blow job that ends the moment before you… uh… climax. This rationing takes away the cathartic, overwhelming joy of receiving all the gifts in one amazing primal burst of acquisition. You wake up first thing in the morning-no waiting until sunset, no no no!-and then rip open the wrapping paper in a crazed fit of Luscious Greed and Instant Gratification. It was an orgy! An orgy of presents! An orgy of accrual! An orgy with my girlfriend’s family! (WHAT???) Jesus! Look at all these wonderful goddamned things! All for me! All at once! All right now! OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyChrist!

Still don’t believe me that Christmas is fucking awesome? I’ll prove it. Go listen to “Jingle Bell Rock.” Does that song kick ass or what? Jingle bell time is a swell time! How could you possibly be sad while listening to this masterpiece of pure sonic joy? It’s like an angel’s voice, whispering into your ear, or the soothing sound of an abortion machine sucking fetuses down to hell (“vvvvvvvvv-vroooooooooooooooooom“). Now go listen to that goofy, obnoxious turd “I Have a Little Dreidel.” What a sick fucking joke. “Then dreidel I shall play”? FAIL. (By the way, I received an instant message from a friend today: “my SIRIUS radio has four holiday stations right now, and one of them is ‘Hanukkah.’ What the hell is Hanukkah music? ‘Money’ by Pink Floyd?” For some reason he did not want his name revealed in this column.)

Here is something else that annoys me: I’ve typed Hanukah/Chanukah/Hanukkah/Hannukkkakahahahaakahaakaaha a trillion different ways while writing this column-despite my commitment toward consistency in everything that I attempt, which normally comes effortlessly-because the goddamned spellchecker accepts all of them. Also: the date of Hanukkah changes dates every fucking year because Jews insist on using the lunar calendar, which the rest of the human race chucked like twenty million years ago. Aren’t we supposed to be smarter than everyone else? What the fuck is wrong with us? How did we get all those Nobel prizes-and control of the mainstream media, Wall Street, Hollywood, the American government, etc. (just kidding about that last one!)-when we can’t settle on one spelling and one date for our most famous fucking holiday? It’s easy to forget the date of Hanukkah, but nobody will ever forget the 25th of December-glorious, blissful Christmas-which is not historically out of place for American Jews. According to David Greenberg at Slate: “Around 1900, millions of eastern European Jews … adopted American traditions, including the newly secularized Christmas. … Jews installed Christmas trees in their homes and thought nothing of the carols their children sang in the public schools.” In other words, “Chrismukkah” is already part of our tradition.

Not to sound like Bill O’Reilly-whom I am sending a handle of Jameson Irish Whiskey for Christmas; we all know that it’s his favorite breakfast snack-but when hysterical Jewish parents (are there any other kind?) protest secular mentions of Christmas in the public square, I want to shove mistletoe down their Grinchy throats. For example, earlier this month a Jewish mother temporarily convinced a North Carolina elementary school to ban “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” from its kindergarten concert because the song contains a lyric about Santa, but local Christians went crazy and basically threatened a Second Holocaust; the administrators caved, which is fine by me because Christmas is awesome. Church and State must be separated, of course, but it’s more important to keep Young Earth creationists out of the classroom than Frosty the Snow Man. (Bonus Culture War Victory: Frosty will make impressionable students far more tolerant of homosexuality.)

By the way, this hysterical Jewish mother is probably unaware that a Jew wrote “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” In fact, Jews are behind such secular holiday classics as “The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire),” “Holly Jolly Christmas,” “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” “Silver Bells,” “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” “Sleigh Ride,” “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,” “Let It Snow! Let it Snow! Let It Snow!” and “White Christmas,” the perennial favorite of Neo-Nazis around the world. I don’t feel guilty for loving Christmas, mostly because Jews pretty much created Christmas, or at least the contemporary/superior version. (And considering that Jesus popped out of Mary’s untainted Semitic vagina, we gave the world the religious version too.) And I don’t mean to bash Hanukkah, which just seems cruel; it’s a lovable underdog: a minor holiday thrust into the spotlight because something had to compete with Christmas… it’s as if you suddenly found yourself in a boxing ring with Muhammad Ali-at his prime, not the Mohammed Ali who quivers uncontrollably-and the referee told you it was a fight to the death. You would shit your pants! So basically we should love Hanukkah like we love a child who has terminal cancer: it never asked for this! It never asked to suffer! How could a loving God let this happen?  This year, I will teach my girlfriend’s family how to light a menorah, which should be fun to try while I’m obliterated on Nana’s alcoholic apple cider. Perhaps they will enjoy my tribe’s festivities as much as I enjoy theirs… but somehow I doubt it. And that’s “ho ho ho”-kay with me.

The post Why Christmas Kicks Hanukkah’s Ass appeared first on Jewcy.

Organized religion is full of contradictions-for example, could God create a boulder so heavy that He cannot lift it, and then create a heavier boulder that would outweigh the combined bloat of Michael Moore and Rush Limbaugh?-and here is one of them:

"God will accept repentance for all sins except one: giving another man a bad name."

-The Zohar

 "It is a wise man that admits the truth."

-The Mishnah

What if admitting the truth means giving someone a bad name? Should we apologize for hurting others’ feelings after exposing their malevolence and hypocrisy? Is it better to speak charitably or honestly? And why do these questions keep me awake at night?

I am a professional asshole. My job (nay, my purpose on earth) is to mercilessly pierce the bullshit-ridden exoskeleton of society with my blazing katana of unfiltered rhetorical justice, decapitate the scum-sucking charlatans of this planet and make sweet, sweet love to their cleanly severed skulls. Somebody has to do it, and yet I feel bad whenever I make somebody else feel bad; the Katana of Truth is a double-edged sword.

I’ve previously detailed my social ineptitude here on Jewcy, and I haven’t changed much with a couple years of age (except that I’m way hotter now whereas you are uglier). Consider my behavior last weekend at a party with law school students whom I’d never met:

• Mocked two brothers because they failed to make it into Harvard like their father

• Told a disheveled guy that he looked like future divorce attorney and his first client would be himself

• Informed a dude that the band on his t-shirt sucks, always a classy and well-liked move

• Laughed in a Texan’s face because Alaska, my homeland, is more than twice the size of her shitty redneck state

• To blonde couple: "You look like master race Aryans straight out of a Swiss Miss commercial, did you know that?"

• To Catholic chick: "So you fuck like crazy but don’t use condoms because Jesus would send you to hell, right?"

Yes, I am hilarious, but I awoke in the morning and felt guilty for acting like a callous boozehound prick to everyone. It made me wonder if I’ve matured any since a party back in college where I tried to talk a random coed into a threesome with my girlfriend, yet forgot to technically ask my lovely girlfriend beforehand if she would be interested in conducting such an experiment? (She was not interested, as it turned out, plus the random coed was her classmate; the remainder of the semester was excruciatingly awkward for both of them.)

So I am a drunken mess with zero self-control, yet I feel bad for my unstoppable outbursts. And the strangest goddamn thing is that people seem to love – if they don’t despise me, and sometimes even if they do – when I am heaping shame upon myself. Whenever I am bashful, modest, nuanced, evenhanded, conciliatory and self-reflective (in other words: whenever I am sober), eyes glaze over and everyone is bored to death. When I amp up the testosterone to eleven and say whatever the fuck wants to come out of my mouth, I am the life of the party. Even if I am repulsing everybody in the room, at least I am interesting, which is more than you can say about yourself; it is difficult to shake the knowledge, however, that people will love you for your worst traits as a person.  Which cliché holds the most wisdom: "say what you mean and mean what you say" or "if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all"?

My parents gave me a sense of humor and a sense of decorum, which often clash with each other. My father is a very funny, crude, opinionated guy, whereas my mother is careful to avoid controversy, takes the middle ground whenever possible and has (admirably and astonishingly) never offended anyone. As a child my primary role models were total contradictions, and now I am a contradiction: a bashful jackass, a bastard with a heart of gold.  I have the mouth of a dick and the soul of a pussy, and this disconnect is a source of bewilderment whenever I look in the mirror, which is often because I enjoy masturbating all over it. As a reviewer wrote of my most recent book: "The fatal flaw is that, deep down, Beckerman has a heart… Beckerman’s not misanthropic enough to not care, and so comes back to say that he was just kidding about all the non-politically correct stuff-which takes away the little shock value that expressing the sentiments had in the first place."

The problem is that being a prick doesn’t work when you only take it 50 percent of the way, but taking it 100 percent means drowning out your conscience, chucking your empathy and shutting down your humanity. In politics, for example, the most successful pundits are those who spew incendiary dogma, feed anger to the masses, refuse to see shades of gray and define the other side as pure evil instead of seriously considering their motivations; you can make a LOT of money doing this, but it will make you a piece of shit. It’s easy to be a showman; it’s hard to be a human at the same time.

When I was a cub reporter for the Anchorage Daily News’ teen page, I went to a festival of psychics who charged $$ to read minds, tell the future, etc. A grandmotherly woman tried to peer into my soul; I went on to write an article titled "Drowning in Bullshit at the Winter Psychic Fair" (the ADN omitted "shit"), which scathingly derided the notion that humans have mental superpowers. According to my editor, the octogenarian medium phoned the newspaper’s office on the verge of tears after publication, wondering why I had been so vicious to a sweet old lady. Nothing is more hilarious than making 80-year-old women cry, of course, but I felt guilty over my comedy for the first time; I had learned that a writer can inflict pain with the power of the pen. (For the record, the psychic did predict I would struggle with two sides of my personality, so maybe it wasn’t bullshit after all. She also predicted that I would become the greatest writer since William Shakespeare, but I already knew that.)

In August Slate‘s Jack Shafer confessed: "I’m actually not a fan of any kind of humor. The very essence of humor is aggression. The point of most jokes is to inflict psychological suffering and pain-to transgress and make someone the butt. This is why I’ve declared my journalism, my office, my home, and the subway line I commute to work on absolutely comedy free." There is something inhuman about this degree of austerity, yet Shafer admits: "If you’re not offending somebody, you’re probably not pleasing anybody. Political satire that errs on the side of civility and good taste is empty."

Often I type sentences on Twitter such as "Republicans would feel comfortable in Hitler’s Germany (even if they are Jewish), and would eagerly crucify Jesus (even if they are Christian)," but I don’t hit SEND because it feels cheap and untrue in a factual sense even if it’s True in a big-T polemical sense. Do I need to become more comfortable with such brazen generalizations and leave the nuance to the eggheads and handwringers? Do I need to stop giving the benefit of the doubt to people who deserve no such thing?

"There is a type of meekness that brings a man to hell," explains the Hasidic Book of the Pious, specifically "the man who hears [others] speak falsely and says, ‘Who am I to correct them?’ There is a kind of humility which is not righteousness."

Well, you can’t argue with the crazy bearded freaks in stupid motherfucking hats who have a cornucopia of bizarre genetic disorders from restricting their gene pool for centuries to other crazy bearded freaks in stupid motherfucking hats. Therefore I owe no apologies to anyone, and will contentedly spend Yom Kippur eating bacon, cramming shellfish up my rectum and trying to reconstruct my foreskin with a pair of pliers and a bucket of cookie dough. If this offends you, go fuck yourself with a bottle of kosher wine, which is the most disgusting wine in the entire goddamned history of winemaking.

…but will you forgive me later?

The post Atonement for Assholes appeared first on Jewcy.

In 2008, however, McCain combines the worst characteristics of Lex Luthor (hollow lust for power, evil henchmen, bald), the Joker (impulsive, belligerent, plays people against one another, unserious) and the X-Men villain Apocalypse (he will bring about the apocalypse).

McCain once made you proud to call yourself an American, and it wasn’t demagogic pride (“with us or against us,” “love it or leave it,” “for the troops or against the troops”) but the real thing. He inspired millions of people with his story of sacrifice and service, and defined himself by his honesty and "maverick" yet moderate positions on the issues. His candidacy derailed when George W. Bush’s goons infamously spread whispers of a brown lovechild whom McCain had actually adopted. As this hideous decade progressed—from 9/11 to Abu Ghraib to Hurricane Katrina to the merciless evisceration of the U.S. Constitution—many of us said to ourselves, “If only McCain were in charge…”

Since 2000, however, McCain has devolved like a post-Atomic Holocaust science-fiction zombie into a grotesque McCarthyite (McCainthyite?) parody. Whereas he once played to centrist Americans—the silent majority who cannot stand “agents of intolerance” whether their names are Farrakhan or Falwell—presently he panders to the most regressive elements of our culture and the most vile aspects of our human nature.

McCain took a bloody shit all over his legacy, and chose to empower the darkest corners of the American Right over the American mainstream. He put all his eggs into the Rabid Mutant Basket, assuming the overzealous radicals would show on Election Day instead of the lazy normal people. If you prefer the Enlightenment over the Dark Ages—Truth over Lies, Hope over Fear, Unity over Hate—the John McCain of 2008 wants you to go fuck yourself.

It hurts me to type this—genuinely hurts—because I once worshipped at the McAltar. (As I make clear in my new book Dumbocracy: Adventures with the Loony Left, the Rabid Right and Other American Idiots I’m a bit of a maverick myself; in the words of Chris Rock, "Crime? I’m conservative. Prostitution? I’m liberal!") Goddamnit, John McCain, why did you break my heart worse than any woman I’ve ever loved? Why did you fellate George W. Bush more furiously in the past eight years than the First Lady since their wedding day?

Back in April McCain “pledged to conduct a respectful campaign,” promising to focus on the issues instead of questioning the loyalty and character of his opponent as the GOP questioned Sen. John Kerry’s in 2004. McCain took the high road, which Americans shockingly appreciate this year, and then he realized he would lose the election to Sen. Barack Obama, so McCain panicked and made a deviant blood pact with the Lord of the Underworld:

“LUCIFER, HEAR MY PLEA!” McCain bellowed to the Fallen Angel, naked and shivering and covered in his own geriatric spermatozoa. “I NEED A MIRACLE… I NEED A GODSEND… I NEED A YOU-SEND!”

“YES, MCCAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU,” said the Dark Prince. “MY DEMONIC BRIDE, ALASKA GOV. SARAH PALIN, WHO IS YOURS FOR A SMALL PRICE: YOUR SOUL, MCCAIN, YOUR ETERNAL SOOOOUUUUL…”

And lo, the wretched bargain was sealed, but McCain forgot that deals with the devil tend to backfire, especially when you are covered in Septuagenarian Man Juice.

Palin looked perfect on paper: a young, popular female governor who would appeal to religious conservatives, gun owners, small town residents, soccer/hockey moms, bitter Hillary Clinton supporters (are there any other kind?) and guys who like to jerk off (there are not any other kind). Nobody in D.C. expected McCain to nominate her—nobody had heard of her, other than Alaskans like me—and she caused immediate waves of excitement throughout the country. Pundits declared her selection a political masterstroke. America fell in love with her overnight… and then for some reason she opened her mouth.

Palin could not identify a Supreme Court decision besides Roe v. Wade. She could not name a newspaper or magazine she reads. She recently traveled abroad for the first time. She believes the First Amendment protects politicians from criticism, as opposed to protecting critics from politicians. With a corruption investigation underway, and accusations of censorship, cronyism, religious extremism, and the tendency to fire any public official who disagreed with her, the truth swiftly became apparent: she was Bush with a bush. (Update: I thought this was mildly clever, but "Bush with a bush" gets 1,680 hits on Google. Also, she might wax.)

Her initial approval numbers plunged; she became a liability to McCain and an embarrassment to everyone but the most extreme right-wing diehards who embraced her wholeheartedly as a symbol of their myriad resentments against modernity, the scientific process, proper usage of the English language, etc.

You felt bad for her—she seemed like a normal person who had been picked off the street and expected to master geopolitics overnight—and perhaps you felt guilty for judging her. You might have searched your soul and wondered if you’re a know-it-all snob who looks down on regular folks from your cosmopolitan pedestal. Hey, if you were given a pop quiz on national TV, you would probably fail too; personally I’d rather not reveal my batting average for Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?

However, you are not trying to convince hundreds of millions of Americans you are qualified for the second highest office in the land, and Palin is far too malicious to deserve our pity. Just as Bush is a divider, not a “uniter,” Palin exploited the time-tested strategies of the GOP playbook; she made this election about City Moose vs. Country Moose. If you question the Republican Party, you are an “elitist,” but if you never question the Republican Party—even when it shreds the Bill of Rights and amalgamates Church and State—you are “pro-America.”

Palin is the darkness in Plato’s cave, which is a reference she would probably need explained to her. She would have fed the hemlock to Socrates. She would have imprisoned Galileo. She would have prosecuted Scopes. If she were born in Hanoi, she would have mocked the critics of torture who “worried that someone won’t read them their rights,” as she did at the Republican National Convention, only “them” would have a slightly different meaning.

Americans have a tendency to vote for candidates who seem “just like me,” or remind us of our beer-drinking buddies, which explains the (initial) popularity of Bush and Palin. Our electoral narcissism is understandable but ludicrous; the vast majority of us are obviously not qualified for the White House. It is not “elitism” to observe this; it is reality. I have plenty of beer-drinking buddies, none of whom would receive my vote for anything, not even designated driver.

“Someone called me a redneck woman once and you know what I said back?” Palin recently asked a crowd of supporters. “‘Why, thank you.’”

Is this how a potential president of the United States should speak? Like a Hooters Waitress-in-Chief?

Conservatives used to believe in meritocracy; they opposed racial and gender quotas in the workplace on the principle that the most qualified person should get the job, no matter his or her physical characteristics. Modern right-wingers, however, loathe expertise of any kind. Their only concern is propagating their Orgy of Hate: for scientists, for teachers, for journalists, for immigrants, for the poor, for sexuality, for civilization itself.

It’s a vicious circle: the more McCain alienates centrist voters, the more feverishly he must court the extremists, in turn alienating more centrist voters, requiring him to further court the weirdos. McCain and Palin have consequently unleashed a vicious mob mentality which might not expire on November 5^th. When McCain finally tried to calm one of his psychotic xenophobic crowds, the testosterone-filled degenerates booed him for saying Obama is a “decent person…”

According to Palin, Obama “sees America as imperfect enough to pal around with terrorists,” “is hiding his real agenda,” “launched his political career in the living room of a domestic terrorist,” and is “not a man who sees America the way you and I see America.” When not insinuating Obama is the Antichrist, the McCain-Palin campaign accuses Obama of supporting sexual education for kindergarteners—as if he were some kind of pervert—even though Obama actually proposed teaching children how to identify and avoid pedophiles. When the hard-hitting journalists at The View asked McCain to disown the ad, the Arizona senator refused. (Perhaps McCan is vying for the North American Man-Boy Love Association demographic? Are they swing voters? They hang around swing sets…)

While Obama has condemned and distanced himself from the left-wing extremists in his party and in his past, McCain spoke at Jerry Falwell’s university and proudly accepted the endorsement of Pastor John Hagee, who declared Hurricane Katrina God’s punishment on New Orleans for its sinful ways. (McCain ultimately rejected the endorsement when it emerged that Hagee claimed Hitler fulfilled God’s plan. Too late, McSellout.)

As the lunatics take over the GOP asylum, conservative intellectuals are fleeing: former Secretary of State Colin Powell, National Review royalty Christopher Buckley, Washington Post columnist George Will, Atlantic blogger Andrew Sullivan, former Bush spokesman Scott McClellan and former Bush speechwriter David Frum… the guy who came up with the nuanced, levelheaded phrase “axis of evil.”

In the politically correct ‘90s conservatives had some legitimate gripes: overzealous speech codes, frivolous lawsuits, Orwellian sensitivity training, punitive vice taxes and other government overreach. Left-wingers were often the angry and scary ones—moderates sympathized with Republicans—but this is no longer the case. The pendulum has swung too far to the right; it must come back to the center. The Republican Party of 2008 loathes freedom of speech, pursuit of happiness, separation of church and state, equality under the law and liberty for all. Wrap yourself in the flag all you want, but voting for the modern GOP is as unpatriotic as it gets.

For the last decade Republicans have equated dissent with treachery, sophistication with subversion and prudence with surrender. They worship the symbols of patriotism—the flag and the anthem and the pledge, as if no other countries have these things—but not the meaning of America. For people who supposedly stand firm against terrorists, Republicans are pathologically terrified; they hunt for communists under the bed as if the 1950s never passed, as if Canadian- and European-style social services are indistinguishable from Stalinism. As a Cheap Penny-Pinching Jew I’m all for balanced budgets and cautious spending, but if “socialist!!!!!!!” market regulations and safety nets are so fiscally dangerous, why are the Canadian and European currencies worth more than ours? (A hamburger in Ireland cost me the equivalent of $20 this summer! And it sucked! The Irish can’t cook anything! No wonder a million of them starved!)

The world is an insanely complex place, but True Believers on the Right cannot process concepts deeper than Patriotism vs. Treason, God-Loving vs. God-Hating, Capitalist vs. Communist, Good vs. Evil, Us vs. Them. At the final presidential debate McCain referred to the “pro-abortion” stance, as if the majority of our citizenry supports infanticide for supporting Roe v. Wade. This is ridiculous; most of us only support terminating babies when we’re stuck inside a movie theater with one. (McCain opposed overturning Roe in 1999. Was he for abortion before he was against it?)

Facing economic collapse thanks to our voracious greed—have you seen your credit card statement recently?—Americans have rejected the fantasy-based Culture War and finally asked for realistic solutions. Who cares if gay-married transsexuals are unfreezing embryonic stem cells and committing doctor-assisted suicide if nobody can afford bread and we’re cannibalizing one another for protein?

McCain deserved to win the Republican nomination (and perhaps the presidency) in 2000, but it’s no longer 2000. Yes, he is an American hero, but—much like the TV show Heroes—he has become over the top, inconsistent, badly scripted and embarrassing to watch. His Cold War understanding of the world is obsolete; his legendary temper is the last thing America needs right now. After 9/11 Americans got angry—naturally, justifiably—but our blind vengeance and misplaced trust in leaders such as McCain (who promised a swift, painless victory in Iraq), led to colossal mistakes which have jeopardized our status as an economic, military and moral superpower.

I used to believe it didn’t matter what “foreigners” thought of us—our president doesn’t need a permission slip to defend the American people, blah blah blah—but since then I’ve traveled to Europe and Latin America and the Middle East, and I learned something which surprised me: many people in other countries want the U.S. to lead, want us to be Number One, want us to shine as a beacon of justice as we once did. The rest of the human race is begging us to elect Obama not because he will weaken our military or lessen our influence, which is impossible after eight years of Bush (unless we elect McCain); they want us to return to our founding values of freedom and equality. They resent us for betraying our ideals, not because of our ideals.

As our economic institutions crumble, we cannot survive as a nation divided by all-consuming hatred of our elected leaders and fellow citizens, but Hate is the only thing the Republican Party has to offer: unthinking populist ferocity which makes no distinction between civil discourse and civil war; the same blind, menacing frenzy which besieged Italy, Germany, Russia and China in the previous century. We are on the brink of irrelevance as a nation, but miraculously we have one final chance to avoid sinking into oblivion. We have one final chance to not act like a bunch of complete douche bags.

If you vote against Barack Obama, you are on the wrong side of history, just as Nero was on the wrong side of history when the Roman Empire crumbled. Obama has shown far more prescience and judiciousness than his opponent. He is one of the few Americans who did not lose his mind after 9/11. He is a constitutional scholar with the brains to lead us out of this dark, sick, horrible decade of Propaganda and Death and Facial Stubble.

Yes, Obama has inspired a cult of personality, but sometimes such things are deserved; millions of teenyboppers loved the Beatles, forever the greatest band of all time. Obama possesses a top-tier intellect and Herculean self-control, which are qualifications, not disadvantages. And even if he does become the worldwide Islamo-Antichrist who gnaws upon the skulls of the Enslaved White Masses for breakfast, it wouldn’t be that much worse than Bush, right?

No man is perfect, no politician is pure of heart, but in 2008 we are not choosing between the lesser of two evils. The tragedy is that, if John McCain had stayed true to his character—assuming his former self was not a character—we could have chosen between the greater of two goods.

The post McCainiac No More: Why This Maverick is Voting Obama appeared first on Jewcy.

As if this weren’t enough, Bhama sent a giant golden monkey idol to Obama’s office, and explained to the media, “Obama has deep faith in Lord Hanuman and that is why we are presenting an idol of Hanuman to him.” (Jesus fucking Christ.)

An Indian-American (not American Indian) representative for Obama accepted the golden monkey love idol on the senator’s behalf, saying, “Obama has extended his thanks for the support.” This was gracious, and rejecting the gift might have caused offense to Indian-American voters, as well as the fine people at Dell tech support.

A significant chunk of the U.S. population believes that Sen. Barack Obama is an anti-Christian foreign weirdo with heretical religious beliefs and a mystical power to brainwash the masses. USA Today reported that a tenth of Americans believe Obama is a Muslim, including 14 percent of Republicans and a fifth of rural Americans. For God’s (and/or Allah’s) sake, 10 percent of Democrats believe that he’s a Mecca-kneeler-towarder-fives-times-per-dayer.

Republicans are counting on this perception in November. You won’t hear Sen. John McCain say it—and to McCain’s credit, he has chastised right-wingers who pathologically utter the name “Barack Hussein Obama” as a scare tactic—but the whisper campaigns have gone on for months.

Apparently Obama carries a miniature Lord Hanuman lucky charm with him, which is why Bhama gave him the golden idol in the first place. (Don’t tell Focus on the Family leader James Dobson, who criticized Obama earlier this week for “deliberately distorting the traditional understanding of the Bible to fit his own worldview, his own confused theology.”) But when it came to generating publicity for his candidate of choice, Bhama should have kept the monkey in his pants.

The post Not Helping: Golden Monkey Hindu Love Idols for Obama appeared first on Jewcy.

The post Viral Video of the Day: Willie Nelson and Snoop Dogg Unite the Races with ‘Medicine’ appeared first on Jewcy.

Monday, June 16, 5:01 p.m.: Robin Tyler and Diane Olsen, who won their California Supreme Court case to get married, are the first gay couple wed at the Beverly Hills Courthouse. The mayor of San Francisco officiates at the wedding of a lesbian couple in their eighties. (The ceremony was delayed because one of the octogenarian's dentures was stuck in the other's birth canal. Surgeons arrived promptly.) In heaven, Jesus cries and contemplates suicide, but settles on slashing his wrists in the bathtub with a Gillette Venus Vibrance Soothing Vibrations Razor for Women.

Tuesday, June 17, 8 a.m.: According to Agence France Presse (which is, let us not forget, French, and therefore will be referred to henceforth as Agence Freedom Presse), courthouses and clerks across California issued a "tidal wave of marriages" to same-sex couples, including Star Trek actor George Takei, who commands his new husband to immediately "beam up—you know where." Elsewhere in Hollywood, William Shatner contemplates facing the forbidden, sultry truth that resides—has always resided—at the bottom of his soul and the center of his loins, but concludes, "I can't do it, Captain… I… just… don't… have… the… power."

9:30 a.m.: Thousands of gay couples are now officially married. Experts suggest that half of the couples in state will wed, along with nearly 70,000 from other states. Right-wing radio personalities shriek that heterosexual marriage will cease to exist due to the "gay agenda," whatever that is.

9:37 a.m.: Heterosexual marriage ceases to exist. Millions upon millions of Californian adults file for divorce and commence sodomizing one another. (According to CNN's Wolf Blitzer, this turn of events is "inexplicable and vicious." He then paused to wipe his semen-drenched beard with one hand and give Anderson Cooper a reach-around with the other; Lou Dobbs masturbated while videotaping his colleagues, although he was unable to focus due to having Larry King's shriveled member inside of him) A homosexual orgy of biblical proportions stretches from San Diego to Santa Cruz, winning the Guinness World Record for "consecutive leapfrog train." Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, who enters his Junior costar Danny DeVito, proclaims himself "the Terminator—of your ass."

10:55 a.m.: The California State Senate dissolves the California Supreme Court, which is promptly replaced with the Rules Committee of the North American Man-Boy Love Association. (In unrelated news, former Malcom in the Middle star Frankie Muniz dies of severe rectal bleeding. He should have never agreed to literally become "Malcolm in the Middle.")

12:46 p.m.: No longer satisfied with their newfound addiction to homosexual lovemaking, Californians turn their sexual attention to household pets, exotic zoo animals, seagulls, livestock, and Robin Williams. The entity formerly known as the California Supreme Court legalizes human-beast marriage, but only for same-sex humans and beasts.

2:19 p.m.: Every pregnant woman in California secures an immediate abortion, no matter how many months their fetus has had to develop, because procreation is a symbol of the Time That Once Was and Must Never Be Spoken Of. Everyone under the age of 60 is sterilized, either by chemicals or blades, which isn't actually necessary considering that everyone is exclusively fucking those of their own gender, but you can never be too safe.

3:39 p.m.: The American Family Association challenges the California Supreme Court decision; the U.S. Supreme Court immediately takes the case, but the plan backfires on the social conservatives when Justices Scalia and Alito realize that Justice Roberts is a pretty handsome guy for 53. (He's no John Edwards, of course, but somehow he is both rugged and boyish, which drives Clarence Thomas absolutely insane.) The Supremes rule that Christianity is illegal and shall henceforth be replaced with the Temple of Phallus.

3:45 p.m.: Sen. Barack Obama announces that he is the Antichrist, made flesh by the devil seed of Lucifer and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, who had tons of gay sex. Sen. John McCain bows to Obama's awesome Satanic power, pledges all of his delegates to the Democratic nominee-in-waiting and then desperately suckles upon the younger black man's scrotum, which tastes like a combination of honey and rose petals.

5:26 p.m.: The United Nations acknowledges King Obama as Supreme Leader of the World.

5:27 p.m.: The white race is enslaved. Islam owns the earth.

5:28 p.m.: Jesus Christ returns from the astral plane, defeats the Kingdom of Beelzebub with his Majestic Sword of Glory, liberates the captives, raises the dead from their graves, and reigns for a thousand years of tranquility and light. (The scrapes on his wrists have healed. He didn't really want to die anyway; he just wanted the girls at school to notice how much they hurt his feelings when they ignored him.) Nobody ever has gay sex again, because heaven on earth is gay enough already. Seriously. You remember the last five minutes of The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King? It's just like that. Only gayer.

The post Live Blogging the First Day of Gay Marriage in California appeared first on Jewcy.

Sen. Barack Obama’s speech on racial tension seems to have rescued his campaign from the liability of his radical pastor. He criticized whites for ignoring racial injustices such as our prison population and unequal public schools, but also hammered black leaders for their simmering resentments against Caucasians who have rejected bigotry for generations. It was a major break from conventional identity politics, and has received widespread praise as the most forthright commentary in decades, but a complete abandonment of America’s racial tensions might exceed our limited human capacity.

The speech came at an especially meaningful time for me. Over the last ten months I’ve lived in a mostly black neighborhood in Brooklyn, which has prompted a large degree of soul-searching. Although I lived in Washington, D.C. for six years, I spent most of the time in the “affluent” northwest quadrant. (Oh, there are so many fun words amongst real estate professionals that substitute for illegal ones: “young professionals,” “trendy,” “middle-class,” “lots of families,” “safe.”)

When I moved to New York, I only had two days to find an apartment. Rents in “affluent” neighborhoods with numerous “young professionals” are considerably higher than in “up-and-coming” neighborhoods. Whereas I lived in a luxury building in D.C. with a gym, pool, doorman, deck, chandeliered lobby and (most lavish of all) dishwasher, I was suddenly—thanks to my desperate rush and journalist’s budget—in a neighborhood where the only appetizing-looking restaurant is a McDonald’s, save for a Mexican eatery that gave me a gastrointestinal holocaust.

The real estate agent assured me that the neighborhood is “safe” and “middle-class,” but since I moved a few people have been murdered around the block and numerous delis have been robbed at gunpoint. Police sirens and car alarms blare throughout the night. Even the graffiti is graffitied. Drug dealers sometimes hang out at the self-service laundry, which might be okay if A) I hadn’t stopped smoking marijuana after college, and B) the drug they’re selling were marijuana.

Although I have not been threatened or mugged, I have notified my landlord that I am not renewing my lease. I will soon move to either a “nice” part of Brooklyn or “Manhattan below Harlem,” despite the exorbitant rents. Except here’s the thing: “nice” and “below Harlem” are fancy ways of saying “white,” or at least “whiter.” I don’t like to admit this; it makes me feel dirty, which is saying something.

Of course, I’m leaving because of the crime, and there’s nothing discriminatory about wanting to stay bullet-free. If the gangsters were white, I wouldn’t want to live around them either—and Little Italy is too touristy anyway.

But I can’t deny that part of my motivation for leaving is that I feel like an outsider. It’s not that I feel endangered walking down the street, or at least not most of the time, but I can feel eyes staring at me in the grocery store and subway station. I frequently remind myself that it’s a matter of class instead of race: poor whites are just as likely to commit crime as poor blacks, and it’s not like anybody wants to be poor. And it’s really not that bad here—a little “shady” (yet another word) but hardly an urban war zone, as Hollywood would have us believe. I play Martin Luther King, Jr. quotes inside my brain, trying to reassure myself that it’s important—for the good of my character and my country—to challenge my comfort zone. This is exactly what Obama urged last week.

When I first moved here I hoped that I would make a ton of friends, understand another culture and transcend the social barriers that have segregated our country long after the demise of Jim Crow. Unfortunately I haven’t gotten to know anyone, and have felt increasingly isolated. I could have tried harder, I suppose, but there’s an awkward cultural gulf between us. The neighbors are very nice people—they always offer to help if I’m carrying too many groceries or packages, which I would never expect of “affluent” snobs on the Upper West Side—but I can sense the tension in the air.

The tension stems from this, as some of the longtime residents have explained to me with a tone that is (usually) kind and patient, but frustrated: just as “young professionals” tend to prefer neighborhoods with other “young professionals,” the people who live in ethnic neighborhoods—and mine is largely Caribbean—are very proud of their cultures, and don’t always view Starbucks and luxury condos as signs of progress.

Often they view such things as harbingers of skyrocketing rents and dissolution of their tight-knit communities. I’m not the only “young professional” who has moved here recently, and many longtime residents fear the cultural onslaught of gentrification. Some believe there are positives, for example an influx of cash into local businesses and (supposedly) more police protection.

However, they don’t necessarily want their jerk chicken stands replaced with organic vegan restaurants and sushi fusion; they don’t necessarily want their churches replaced with $1,000 per month fitness clubs; they don’t necessarily want their way of life replaced with yoga-practicing, smoothie-sipping, insufferable bourgeois bohemian freakiness, which has happened over and over in this city. Just as “young professionals” don’t want to live in a “certain kind” of neighborhood, we aren’t always welcome in the first place. (Yesterday I heard one resident say to another as I walked by: “more white people—not a good sign.”)

Segregation was one of the most horrendous evils of our history, and Obama’s words are beautiful as usual. It might be harder for us to embrace one another’s culture, however, than to simply ignore one another’s skin color. We are all afraid of something and weak in some way—everyone gravitates toward the familiar—but human nature isn’t always the problem; sometimes it’s the limits of our nature.

In other words, racism is totally gay.

The post Barack Obama Eased My White Guilt For White Flight appeared first on Jewcy.

Now he is taking his message to the national stage through a bizarre presidential campaign. He has garnered supporters at numerous music festivals and university campuses—from California to Tennessee to Washington, D.C.—and on the Internet at his personal blog.

Are Americans ready for a six-foot-four Jewish faith healer as their leader? Can you "heal" this nation with your supernatural abilities? Actually it is six-foot-seven-inch Jew. See how the media is already lying trying to diminish my physical size? Because everyone knows that height matters in political campaigns. I would not consider my healing to be mine, but rather God's healing. With enough willpower, clarity of mind, and compassion we can all heal this country. Are you running an actual campaign or is this a work of performance art? I am not honestly sure if the two differ these days. When you don't have a lot of money or the high brand name visibility, you have to incorporate a high level of entertainment to get everyone's attention. Are you registered as a candidate in any state? Can people actually vote for you? Our team of lawyers is attempting to get me registered as a candidate, but the combination of ageism and anti-Semitism might make this a serious challenge. Since we live in a democracy, of course people can vote for me and my wing-mate Smiley along with our ever-expanding Infinite Cabinet. People are voting for me as a write-in candidate while other people are merely voting for me in their hearts and minds. Anti-Semitism is keeping you off the ballot? What? Ageism, not anti-Semitism. The Constitution supposedly says you have to be 35 years old, but the government doesn't really follow the Constitution anymore on most matters. To follow it because I am not of legal age seems absurd to myself and the Infinite Cabinet.
Who the fuck is "Smiley"? He is a lifeguard, Ferris wheel operator, bouncer and philosopher, currently residing in New Jersey until we get the biodiesel buses ready to roll. His first words to me on top of a beach pier across from a police station were: "Hey, you want to start a revolution?"

My response was "Hell to the yeah." A great friendship was forged. What is your platform? 1) Stop killing people we don't know. Start helping people we do know right at home who are struggling with healthcare, the economy and the price of education.

2) Fess up to global warming and take serious initiatives to clean up the planet. We need clean air, water, and organic apple pie.

3) End the war on drugs. If we can't keep drugs out of prisons, why are we spending billions to keep them out of the country? Decriminalize pot. We have too many people going to jail for this — it's flooded the courts and it's a waste of taxpayers' money. In many cases, prescription pills are more dangerous gateway drugs.

4) It's insane how many people we have in prison. We went from a prison population of 300,000 in 1981 to 2.1 million in 2004. At that rate, by 2027 we'll have 14.7 million people in prison. That is absurd.

5) Lower the voting age to 12. We will settle for 16. If we're going to turn these kids into pill poppers, we might as well make them lever-pullers, especially if we're going to try them as adults for murder.

6) Bring sexy back to the White House. Justin Timberlake was onto something. All these other politicians don't know how to act.

7) Give out three million college scholarships. Being educated and being in debt should not go hand in hand.
What inspired the campaign? Once the primaries are over, it's business as usual for the major candidates. Issues become forgotten. Voters focus on the next pop star instead. Who can blame them? We have unlimited choices of shampoos and conditioners but only two choices for our world leader. How are you using the Internet to campaign? We are using MySpace, Facebook, Tribe, and YouTube, and we're selling the campaign on eBay. Smiley said that if big tobacco and the oil companies can buy a campaign, why not the American taxpayer? So eBay just might save the American democracy. What do you mean, you're "selling the campaign"? Politicians are bought and sold all the time. Campaigns are commodities. They spend over $300,000,000 to get a job that pays about $400,000. Obviously something is skewed here. I don't know of any servant position-public or private-that pays less then .013 of what it costs to obtain it. That is total insanity. We are offering a service to bring back democracy in America. We will spend the money on biodiesel buses, food, and video equipment to document our great adventure.

What is your most memorable campaign experience so far? I would say the overwhelming response we received at Bonnaroo (a music festival in Tennessee) where the other candidates dared not tread. We got some coverage from Current Television and Country Music Television. A lot of hands were shaken and pictures were taken. A lot of support was pledged. Are people volunteering to help your campaign? Do you have any kind of staff? We have staff working around the clock. We can't even keep up with all the different efforts. The staff is affectionately known as the "Infinite Cabinet" and is always expanding.
How many states have you campaigned in? How many do you plan to campaign in? We have Infinite Cabinet members in all the states, including overseas, spreading the word about our campaign and the Infinite Cabinet. I am pushing to focus mainly in Hawaii knowing full well that surfers love us and that victory will be assured. Of course, the Infinite Cabinet in their infinite wisdom have a different plan of action. How have colleges responded to you showing up and spreading the gospel to students? We have rocked the college campuses hard, but until last month we were understaffed. We move more rapidly than plates of cocaine through the White House. And sometimes we garner too much attention. We're the bad boys of American politics. Just like the Pistons back in the days of Isaiah. You have told me that you consult with psychic advisors. What do they say about your political quest? According to our spiritual consultants, we are certain to be a factor in the outcome amongst the spirits polled in the Gallup poll. There is a margin of error of about three to five percent. We are certainly one of the most unique and all-encompassing campaigns, and we are going the long haul to the finish line. What do you want to accomplish with this campaign? We want to galvanize the apathetic, disenchanted, disenfranchised masses. We want to make the election prospects better for politicians who actually want to enact changes. We want to say, "Your vote may not always count but your voice certainly does, so speak up."

The post The Only Rapping Jewish Faith Healer in the Presidential Race appeared first on Jewcy.

"Certainly it's a reminder that 'the troops' are hardly marching in lockstep behind the Bush/McCain perpetual war agenda." —Matthew Yglesias on U.S. soldiers' greater support for antiwar candidates

Worst:

"How dare anyone unilaterally decide when to turn the page on history, papering over real inequities and suffering constituencies in the promise of a feel-good campaign? How dare anyone claim to unify while dividing, or think that to rouse U.S. youth from torpor it’s useful to triage the single largest demographic in this country’s history: the boomer generation—the majority of which is female?" —Robin Morgan on Barack Obama

(Wow, the use of italics actually makes the woman who once advocated "man-hating" as an "honorable and viable political act" sound more unhinged. How is that even possible?)

The post The Best and Worst Opinions of the Day appeared first on Jewcy.

On the Democratic side things are far less certain. Sen. Hillary Clinton captured the big prizes — California and New York — but Sen. Barack Obama scored more delegates. Major media outlets are crowning Hillary as the Super Tuesday winner, but she had previously sworn to have the nomination locked up by now. Time is much kinder to Obama, and a possible Gore/Edwards endorsement could seal the deal.

Former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee performed much better than expected, capturing many states in the South. Prior to Super Tuesday prominent analysts believed that Huckabee would drop out of the race today, but he has vowed to continue his campaign, angering the Romney camp because splitting the vote makes McCain's cakewalk that much cakier.

(In related news, at this very moment Mike Huckabee moaned with a drool-oozing grin: "Mmmmmmm…. caaaaaake….")

The post Super Tuesday: McCain Triumphs, Hillary Not So Much appeared first on Jewcy.