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Indulge Me
Some things that bother me.


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Jonah Goldberg

People often ask me, “Doesn’t it bother you that they won’t give you enough McNugget sauce for a 20 piece?” But that’s not important right now. Just the other day on the bus someone asked me, “Doesn’t it bother you that Mr. Clean looks like a gay icon; with that tight white T-shirt, bald head, earring, overdeveloped upper body…” Of course, by the time I heard the words “gay icon” from a complete stranger I had already switched seats. Besides, that’s not the relevant question either.

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A lot of people ask, “Doesn’t it bother you that your column is so mean?” To which I say, “Shut up, little girl, or I’ll take your wooden leg and beat your invisible friend to death with it.” Meanwhile, here are some other things that bother me:

It bothers me that after Missouri Gov. Mel Carnahan tragically died last week, the new governor announced he would try to fill the seat with Carnahan’s widow. It bothers me that the only qualifications Democrats cite in her favor is the fact that she did a good job organizing her husband’s funeral arrangements. It bothers me that Senate Minority Leader Tom Daschle says that Mrs. Carnahan will be a “great” Senator. It bothers me that he means she would be great at following his instructions and great at helping him take back the Senate. It bothers me that the liberal press thinks Al Gore should be president because of his obvious experience and command of the issues but they seem unconcerned that Mrs. Carnahan (a great lady, I’m sure) possesses neither.

It bothers me that the New York Times could see fit to endorse Hillary Clinton, another spousal Senate candidate with no legitimate qualifications — though I will concede she is more qualified than Mrs. Carnahan — simply because they want her to win. It bothers me that their hysterical endorsement boils down to the fact that they’d rather go to cocktail parties with a Senator Clinton than a Senator Lazio.

It bothers me that Hillary says she hadn’t heard about her husband’s signing of a cancer-prevention bill sponsored by Lazio until she read it in the New York Times this morning. It bothers me that the New York Times fears for the future of the republic when prominent Republicans twist the truth, but it considers bald-faced lies from prominent Democrats to be an opportunity for personal growth.

Indeed, it bothers me that for months during impeachment, the Times, the scrotal-torqued spinners of the Democratic party, and just about every liberal who considered himself “serious” about politics claimed that America needs to get back to the pressing needs of the country, as if Godzilla was heading our way and we were too distracted to deal with it. And then, it really bothered me when, the day impeachment ended, all these “serious” people could do was talk about Hillary’s Senate campaign as if that was what the nation had been clamoring for all along.

It bothers me that Gore’s defenders think his march into George W.’s personal space in the third presidential debate was a sign of his robust manliness. And yet, they think it was condescending and sexist that Lazio “invaded” Hillary’s personal space. It bothers me that if Hillary Clinton ate a live puppy on television while taking a bribe from a Klansman, some feminist would say, “Isn’t she wonderful?”

It bothers me that if someone criticized the puppy-eating, bribe-taking, carpet-bagger, Howard Wolfson would whine about vicious partisan Republicans who can’t talk about the issues.

It bugs the bejeebers out of me that everyone keeps asking me about Andrew Sullivan’s excellent defense of Matt Drudge, but nobody remembers mine from months ago. It bothers me that coffee cups never have coffee in them on TV shows; it bothers me that actors can swing around what are supposed to be containers filled with hot liquid and the producers think I won’t notice the total lack of spillage or steam. That bothers me a lot.

It bothers me that they changed not just dogs, but breeds, when Tiger died on The Brady Bunch. It bothers me that the father, Mr. Brady, never showed up for Greg’s graduation in the last episode (probably because he was out late with a guy who looked remarkably like Mr. Clean).

It bothers me that the holodeck on Star Trek makes no sense. Speaking of space ships, it bothers me that no one mentions that Louis Farrakhan thinks he flew in one.

It bothers me that Lanny Davis hasn’t been eaten by wolverines that can only live off the flesh of remorseless liars. It bothers me that Penthouse writer and Clinton sycophant Joe Conason thinks he’s being insulting when he calls Condoleeza Rice the “Clarence Thomas of foreign policy (registration required),” when he’s actually complimenting her and embarrassing himself. It bothers me that liberals like Conason can say condescendingly racist stuff and sound clever to other condescending liberal racists. But if I were to point out that Maxine Waters is too dumb to teach first grade, let alone be a pillar of the black community, I am being a racist according to them.

It bothers me that everyone says they believe in God, but nobody’s willing to say they believe in the Devil. It bothers me that the Catholic Church doesn’t talk about Satan nearly enough.

It bothers me that Thoreau said the key to life is to “simplify, simplify,” but repeated the same word twice. Similarly, it bothers me that Edgar Allan Poe said his favorite word in the English language was “cellar door.” It bothers me that in the movie The Warriors, when the Baseball Furies chase the Warriors into the train station at 96th Street, they exit at 72nd Street — but they never actually go on a train.

It bothers me that Joe Lieberman can talk about God the way Clark Kent talks about Superman (Gee, Lois, I don’t think Superman would like that — wink, wink), but if a conservative says “God bless you” to a sneezing brat, the ACLU gets its panties in a bunch about an impending theocracy.

It bothers me that I have nothing to write about today.



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