a conservative manifesto

.

[read this one first (and scroll up to the top if you have to) if you wanna know what provoked me to write the following--because i've just about had enough of this kinda fucking bullshit.]

Depends on what you mean by “conservative,” Scott (and yeah, not only have you brought me outta retirement with this post, you’ve even got me upper-casing–which means i totally expect you to properly paragraph this shit as quid pro quo).

If, by “conservative,” you mean “Republican” in its current definition, then no, i’m not a conservative.

If, on the other hand, you’re by chance alluding to the classic conservative principles (which the modern Republican party long ago abandoned) of limited government and limited spending, then yeah, count me among that number.

And you wanna know why, Scott? It’s an interesting question–over the years, I’ve been accused by my liberal friends of being cheap, stingy and non-progressive, but the truth is much simpler than that.

Bottom line: I’m a conservative because I fucking hate WASTE–because, see, I know that, for every dollar pumped into the federal government, at least 75 cents of said hard-earned dollar is wasted before it ever gets to its intended target.

And why is this, you might ask? Well, i’ll tell you why (actually, i’ll tell your readers why, because, smart boy that you are, Scott, i know you already know): because when it’s not your money–when you don’t have a dog in the fight–you don’t give a rat’s ass how efficiently the money’s spent, because you know that when Fannie Mae/Freddie Mac, or [insert name of federal sinkhole here] goes down the tubes, it won’t bite you in the ass–the dumbass public won’t connect the dots, and you’ll still be re-elected and go on to fuck up another day.

It’s shit like this that drives me crazy, Scott–because unlike Barney Frank and Chris Dodd and Nancy Pelosi–among many others of both parties who should’ve been de-elected for their egregious sins, and most unjustly were not–I work damned hard for my money.

AND I HATE TO SEE IT WASTED.

That’s why i–among many tens (maybe even hundreds) of millions of other hard-working americans–you know, the ones you so love to condescendingly sneer at–am a conservative. You get that, Scott?

And by the way, fuck your kind offer of amnesty; while i may have demonstrated any number of drunken character flaws in my previous comments to this fine blog, fear of the big bad wolf was never chief among them–feel free to do your worst.

[what can i say--fucker still has the power to get to me]

sober update: just so nobody misunderstands, it was a similar post over at billinexile that inspired me to start guttermorality in the first place--and while he may piss me off from time to time, i hold scott and his blog in high regard and i'm glad he does what he does.

the trouble with vincent

.
sometimes when i have absolutely nothing new to say, i go back through my saved drafts just to see if some drunken diatribe i had the good sense to not let see the light of day back then might all of a sudden make sense to publish now.

99 times outta 100, the answer's not only no, but hell no--but tonight this one seemed like a fitting bookend to my previous post, so it's going in, goddammit.

* * * * *

so i'm listening to one of auntie vera's podcasts, and he closes, as always, with a song that ties into the day's show--today, it was don mclean's 'vincent.' having heard to this song a million times, my first instinct was to click over to his next show but then i thought, what the hell--it's been awhile.

so i listen--not as background noise on the radio while i'm doing something else, but really listen--and i'm struck for maybe the first time by what an incredibly poignant, well-crafted song this is. i start to sing the familiar words but by the end i have to stop, because--what the fuck--i'm crying, and i have no idea why.

of course, since i never learned how to cry, as soon as i realize i'm doing it, it's over and the wall's back up.

i can't tell you how much i envy all you assholes with honest access to your emotions--with me, they've always gotta sneak in through some unguarded back door, and they never stick around long.

because you can't make your heart feel something it won't

.
and also because

(1) it came up on shuffle tonight at just the precise point of drunkenness necessary to trigger the following sixteen-year-old memory; and

(2) fuck economics--tonight mkf's in a storytelling mood.

* * * * *

so i'm sitting in my car behind gold coast, lighting another cigarette, checking out the parking lot, wondering if i'll have to actually get out and go in to find love tonight--when all of a sudden he's there at my window, this gorgeous eurasian guy--cocking his head, smiling brightly at me and asking, "wanna fuck?"

well, hell yeah i do--and we do, and it's good.

afterwards, we lay in each others' arms and talk, and i find to my surprise that in addition to being merely gorgeous, this guy--let's call him 'r'--is also smart and accomplished and funny and sweet, and we apparently vibe at the same frequency in lots of areas.

he impresses me--he's not only a practicing attorney, he's also a working actor. he shows me his reel, and i watch him perform in any number of tv shows i've watched over the years.

he makes me laugh--he explains his unusual name by telling me how his german grandmother named him after her favorite nazi field marshal, but the priest refused to baptize her grandchild until she changed the "o" to a "u."

he makes me cry--he tells me about the fifteen years he spent with the guy he met in his freshman year at usc--the guy who died last year.

he drives me crazy--he tells me about fritz, the abusive asshole he's been seeing for the last six months whose shitty treatment finally drove him into my random arms this particular night.

damn, could this be the one?

i remember pulling him close and telling him, "i could fall for you, you know," and meaning it--and i can just as clearly remember him smiling and saying, "don't mess it up by doing that."

did i listen? hell, would you have?

i could go into all the drama of the ensuing six months, but why bother? suffice it to say that when he finally called me and said, "i'm sorry, mkf--i'm staying with fritz," i bought a quart of vodka on my way home and then drank, smoked, cried and listened to the song that triggered this post on an endless loop until the sun came up.



thanks again, r, for adding another brick to my wall.

[and yeah, i know--had r actually loved me back, i'd have most likely run screaming in the opposite direction; this self-knowledge doesn't make the memory any less bittersweet, trust me.]

another economics lesson

.
i actually agonized a little over this one--i mean, is it better to post something that's likely to bore most of my readers, or post nothing at all? and then i remembered i write this blog for my own amusement, which answered the question.

for what it's worth, the following is a modified excerpt from a recent (i.e., 20 minutes ago) email to my friend and frequent commenter noblesavage regarding his contempt for my beloved gold standard [and yeah, we actually back-and-forth about shit like this].

if you happen to be one of the few who not only read all the way to the end of this post but actually get it, then good for you.



there's only two kinds of money, rob: (1) money backed by a fixed, finite, rare and tangible commodity, such as gold or silver; and (2) fiat money (i.e., money which is backed by nothing other than its issuing government's dubious guarantee of value).

most governments start out with the former, and end up with the latter.

see, they start out with the former because they have no choice--they're new, and people are willing to accept their money only if it's backed by something real, like gold.

but there's a funny thing about governments, rob: once established, they always wants to grow, grow, grow--and growth takes more money.

problem is, a government only has two ways to get more real money: (1) taking it from its own citizens via taxation; and/or (2) taking it from other countries by force (i.e., war or colonization). of course, there's just so far any government can go with either one.

which is why, to feed their insatiable appetites for expansion, most governments eventually say fuck it, drop the gold standard and declare that their currency is worth whatever they say it's worth.

and my god, rob, once they've freed themselves from the annoying requirement of backing their currency with tangible assets like gold, amazing new vistas open--hell, now they can pretty much print as much money as they fucking want, and who's to stop them?

[of course, if you try this at home they'll throw you in jail for a thousand years, but for some reason when a government does it, it's ok--splain me that, will you, rob?]

and once a government finally takes this step, what inevitably happens next, as night follows day? why, inflation, of course--i.e., more money in circulation chasing the same amount of goods means that it'll take more money to buy said goods.

it happens slowly (hell, our overlords aren't stupid--if a cup of coffee went from a nickel to two dollars overnight it would freak people out, but somehow it's ok when it happens over fifty years).

until, as a consequence of this slow madness, something really bad happens, the government needs lots of money fast, and the printing presses shift into high gear.

then all of a sudden you find yourself needing a wheelbarrow of your once-stable currency to buy a loaf of bread.

* * * * *

what i've just described has happened to every fiat currency that's ever existed on the face of the earth, and as much as you don't want to believe it, it's now happening to ours. tell me, rob--why do you think we're somehow magically exempt from the laws of nature?