My personal theory of Joe Biden is that he has been chosen for the VP slot mainly in the hope that he will blurt out yet another ambiguously-racist gaffe, so that Obama can make a big thing out of explaining that he doesn’t mind, he’s not going to hold it against him, he understands that Joe’s a good guy and he means well, etc etc, thus reassuring the key voting demographic of nervous white mildly racist voters that Obama’s not going to hold the awful things they semi-secretly think against them.

Is this a new idea? I can’t tell. I’m in the UK at the moment and have mostly been reading the British press coverage. It’s a bit weird. Case in point: William Rees-Mogg in the British Times. The argument appears to be that Obama has “lost the White House” by picking Biden, because Biden once joined in Ted Kennedy’s opposition to putting Robert Bork on the Supreme Court. All of the facts in this column are true, but the theory — that there are large numbers of voters who might consider voting for a Democrat, but who are also still furiously angry about Robert Bork not getting appointed to the Court in 1987 — is completely, surreally bizarre. This is the sort of column I would write if you gave me access to Wikipedia and fifteen minutes to write 2000 words about Brazilian or Finnish politics. I probably couldn’t get it published in the Times, though.

From lunatic zillionaire televangelist Joel Osteen’s Your Best Life Now:

The Scripture promises: “All things work together for good to them that love the Lord.”  If you love God, he’s working life to your advantage, and it will all work out for your good.

Not long ago, Victoria and I and our two children drove down to Hermann Park near downtown Houston. But when we got there, the place was totally packed; people and cars everywhere! We hadn’t realized it, but we had arrived smack-dab in the middle of spring break.

At first, it didn’t appear that we were going to be able to find a place to park. A half dozen cars were circling the parking lot, waiting for somebody to back out so they could pull in. I was having a good time, cutting up a bit with my family, so I said to everybody in the car, “You watch Daddy. I’m going to get a front-row parking spot. I can just feel it. I’ve got the favor of God all over me!”

On and on I went, really making a big deal about it. Then, to everyone’s surprise, just as I steered our car past the front row of parked cars, another car backed out as I approached. It was almost as though we had timed it perfectly; he pulled out, and I pulled right into the open spot. I hardly had to slow down. Better yet, it was the premier spot in that parking lot.

I leaned over to Victoria and quipped, “Victoria, reach over here and get some of this favor off me. I can’t stand it all!”

Victoria just rolled her eyes.

I turned around to our little boy and said, “Come on, Jonathan, touch Daddy. You need some of this favor. Just get it.”

Not just any parking spot!  Osteen’s God is so awesome that He can guarantee you the premier parking spot in the parking lot of your choice.  If you accumulate enough Frequent Prayer Points He’ll send some angels to carry your shopping, too. You don’t get that kind of service with Krishna.

The headhunting rituals of Borneo tribesmen seem far less alien to me than this.  If I make an effort sometimes I think I can see the Aztec priests’ point about the human hearts. (I mean it would be very bad if the sun didn’t rise tomorrow. Maybe it does make sense to err on the side of caution). But I cannot understand how anyone can take this seriously in any way at all.

Gears Of The City, as rendered by wordle:

(click for full-size)

Raccoons: best of all possible vermin.

Amy Silverman’s Phoenix New Times story about John McCain and Arizona politics is doing the rounds mainly because it’s chock-full of dirt about John McCain.  Good stuff. 

I’m more interested in the following bit of recalled dialogue:

One morning this summer, my work phone rang.

“Hi, Amy, this is Tom Gosinski,” a pleasant voice said.

“No way!”

Every other call I’d gotten about McCain, it seemed, had been from some reporter wanting to know where he or she could find Tom Gosinski, the guy who ultimately had led to the outing of Cindy McCain’s drug addiction in 1993. I had told people honestly that I had no idea where Gosinski was; I hadn’t spoken to him in many years.

“It’s me!”

“Okay, prove it,” I said. “Tell me something that only Tom Gosinski would know.”

“I was wearing Pepe jeans the day I came to New Times, so you could interview me for the Cindy McCain story.”

It was him.  

The “Tell me something only the real Mr. X would know” thriller-dialogue trope is so hackneyed and preposterous that even I would flinch from using it in fiction.  Yet here it is, occuring unironically in nature. (Why would Silverman make it up?) 

I never get to say things like that.  Are there real people who have the kind of lives where you get to say this sort of thing all the time? (”No, Tom, I expect you to die.” “Kill me, Amy, and you’ll never find the Osterhagen Key”).  I feel left out.

I second this post.

Tom Geoghegan’s Which Side Are You On? may be the best American political book of the twentieth century.  Brilliant, moving, beautifully-written, also short and accessible, worth reading even if you have no interest in the ostensible subject matter just because it’s so good.

Are you prone to shooting your mouth off about tort reform and that fucking McDonald’s coffee-cup case without knowing what the hell you’re talking about? Be honest. A little? Then I recommend See You In Court: How The Right Made America A Lawsuit Nation. 

Someone has created a Tom Geogheghan for Labor Secretary Facebook group, which is just about the nerdiest thing ever, and I love it.