The German word for ‘enjoying the misery of others’, you may already know, is ‘schadenfreude‘. There are people among us who lack this capacity. (The German term for that sort of person is, I believe ‘der Panzyassen’. )
But when the person who has tumbled from their (pardon me here) self-’erected‘ pedestal is as vile and reprehensible a character as is former Governor and Disdainful-Demonic-Democrat Eliot Friggin’ Spitzer, I cannot pretend to be anything other than overtly gleeful at the prospect of his professional and personal demise. I will even go so far as to implore the citizens of New York to follow our “Bronze Fonz” lead, and quickly amass the funds to (here I go again) ‘erect’ a huge statue in their ex-Gov’s dishonor just so we can all share in the collective joy from watching a horde of socially-conscious revolutionaries topple it from its perch in the town square and smash it to bits. This would be sublimely reminiscent of the fate of the famously decapitated Stalin monument and profoundly apropos.
In fact, if you consider the millions of dollars siphoned from our state in the vehemently anti-capitalist-slash-anti-American Spitzer’s witch hunt against firms like Strong Capital Management, and you harbor any sympathy for the Menomonee Falls area professionals whose careers were derailed and whose substantial contributions to our local tax base are no more, then I’d argue that you, and any Wisconsinite of good conscience would have little choice but to toast the collapse of the Spitzer empire.
Spitzer explaining the fundamental problem with his sex life
You will, and I already did, hear admonishments that we must give deference to the ‘hardship’ (that’s three, I know… shame on me) being suffered by the family of that pompous a*s. Don’t even sniff at the bait in that emotional snare. The fact of the matter is that Spitzer’s family has lived, and lived quite well, off the largess resulting from pillaging our own neighbors’ earnings on the pretense of spurious charges of business practices which were:
a) so commonplace in the market as to send incredulous shock-waves of “We can’t do that?!” through nearly every fund house; and
b) so far out of his jurisdiction that the opportunistic b*stard might as well have been lining his pockets with fines collected off parking tickets mailed to the citizens of Sri Lanka while he was at it.
Combine all that with substantial and repeated charges of abusing his power, i.e. his hyper-hypocritical condemnation of Empire State comptroller Alan Hevesi, or his now deliciously ironic slander of Bob Barr et al, and I feel absolutely no compulsion to take pity on this jerk or his family. None. Zee-row.
At best, I guess I might hope that his daughters (the oldest is, as I understand, nearly the same age as one of Daddy’s favorite hookers) manage to evolve long enough legs to allow them to emerge from the slime of their primordial genetic (cess-)pool and crawl up the embankment onto to the dry plateau of a higher moral ground. The further they distance themselves from their despicable father, the more respect they’ll warrant. Otherwise, it wouldn’t disappoint me in the least if one, or even all three Spitzer girls grew up to work for whatever successor of the Emperor’s Club springs up next. Who knows? If there really is a Karmic/cosmic balance sheet, maybe one of his daughters might even end up with Bill Clinton as a regular client.
That’s a cheap shot, I know. Even so, it’s still a far better homage than anyone of Eliot Spitzer’s ilk deserves…
2) the Un-fathomable:
It Ain’t Your Money, Mr. Mayor
In what some people might consider a refreshingly candid (albeit Freudian) revelation, New Berlin Mayor Jack Chiovatero referred to a chunk of the city’s tax receipts as, quote: “MY 1.9 million dollars” [ emphasis mine ].
For many of us who both live in that community and pay attention to City Hall, this peek into the psyche of our chief politico is unsurprising. More troubling for me is the thought that Hizonner has quite possibly spent time rolling naked in the community coffers moaning “mmmmmyyyyyy mmmmmoneyyyyyy…. allllll mmmmminnnnnne….”
There. Now that I’ve drawn that image on your mental Etch-A-Sketch, you can share my pain. Better still, I hope that you’ll share my reservations about the self-aggrandizing Mr. Chiovatero’s fitness to hold that office to begin with…
3) the Un-abashed:
Moore Means Less… for Everybody
Charlie Sykes called New Berlin alderman William “Bill” Moore a “moonbat“. I hereby formally and publicly demand that Mr. Sykes apologize.
The nicest thing I can think to say about Bill Moore is that he isn’t my alderman. If he’s lucky, the poor saps in his district will stop short of torches and pitchforks, and be content to converge on his doorstep with a petition for his immediate resignation for, lessee… ummm… well, being a raging freaking communist for starters.
Lest you think I exaggerate, compare:
“The objective of government should be to help spread the wealth around,”
“From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.”
The difference is what, exactly? Further, this dingbat (great, now I owe bats an apology* too) went on to rave that:
“…the mass transit situation in southeastern Wisconsin is among the worst in the world…” [ emphasis mine, again ]
Ald. Bill Moore … no wait, that’s Karl Marx. My bad.
In fairness, Moore’s opinion has been jaded by his commute into work every morning…
Alderman William Moore aboard the Waukesha County Freeway Flier
…which is why, I believe, the future-ex-alderman feels so strongly that he went on to babble about the civil war being fought to ensure bus service to suburbanites via the fourteenth amendment and– okay, I’m going to stop myself right there because if I were you I’d assume the author was making all this up to illustrate a point via patent absurdity. But honestly, nothing I come up with on my own is going to outshine the gems that were polished up by this loon**. Read his whole statement. Just, read it…
4) the Un-forgivable:
Michelle, Go to H*ll
Sont les mots qui vont très bien ensemble… Très bien ensemble.
I am the same age as Michelle Obama, though the years have clearly been kinder to me:
Perhaps premature senility is a side-effect of her obvious rapid aging, prompting the first-lady-wannabe to sneer that she’s can only recall one occasion in the entirety of her adulthood (such as it is) in which she felt proud of her country. Incidentally, I’ve read every sort of defense of her perfidious outburst, and that is precisely what she did say, whether or not you accept it, or whether or not the Journal-Sentinel opts not to print it.
Conversely, the only sort of situation in which I find myself as ashamed of my country as, say, a Mrs. Obama, is when we produce the likes of, well, a Mrs. Obama.
Odd too, when you consider that she’s dined in restaurants that I never could, while I’ve eaten from dumpsters that she’ll never have to; that she’s secured a prestigious law degree while I’ll do well enough just to stay out of jail; and that I’m often reflecting on the good fortune of my citizenry from my humble $700 a month apartment while she disdainfully (and perhaps more than figuratively) flips off our society from whichever penthouse or luxury suite balcony that the same American way of life she disparages has presently afforded her.
I’ve entertained the notion that perhaps the country has been TOO good to her. If so, then her outburst was little more than the tantrum of a spoiled, unappreciative brat and maybe she just needs a good spanking. I’m more than certain that the other Democrat hopeful’s spouse would volunteer for THAT ass-ignment.
Personally, I’d prefer to spank Fred Thompson’s wife, but that’s just me…
5) the Un-deterred:
What Would Jesus Do, Wheelies?
Odds are pretty good that no punks will vandalize this church during the CMA campout. Incidentally, you’re free to link to that story over in the “Faith” blogging forum if you’d like. I accidentally clicked over there once and my computer burst into flames…
6) the Un-eventful:
So Far, So Good
It’s been nearly a week since New Berlin Eisenhower High School (re-)hired him as their new(-est) football coach, and I’m happy to report Jeff Setz still hasn’t been arrested for anything. Perhaps things are starting to turn around here in Waukesha county…
7) the Un-speakable:
GASP! His Flier is Open!Muskego-Norway Superintendent Joe Schroeder has banned the distribution of political fliers on public school property. Reportedly, the district’s official position is that free speech can’t be exercised in the absence of a, quote: “specific policy” like, I dunno, the first amendment.
In an imaginary interview, fictional sophomore cheerleader Hannah-Brianna-Savannah Kowalski expressed her support for “that School Supernintendo Guy”. She explained that, with Earth Day rapidly approaching, she and the other students were busy putting the finishing touches on their “Stop Global Warming” posters for their Environmental Awareness class project, and thus, couldn’t afford to be distracted by political issues.
8) the Un-believable:
Conservation + Congregation = Conflagration?
I’ll allow you a moment to let the pseudo-manufactured irony of the previous article sink in before leaving you with this somewhat related dichotomy, more grounded in current reality:
Now that Baptists have embraced global warming, and the tenets of ecological ecumenicalism have been sanctioned by the Vatican, can tree-hugging still be taught in the public schools?
I’m nearly giddy at the prospect of witnessing the chaos that ensues in the educational establishment if “Thou shalt recycle“ somehow becomes the eleventh commandment…