PSA: the Importance of Urban Dictionary in Political Movements

Heehee.

Doesn't the title of this post sound so scholarly? Academic? Not About Teabagging? Hold on, please allow me a moment to roll around on the floor.






All better.

Anyway, I don't really like for this blog to be about political things, or really have too much weight to it. I mean, in what universe would discussions on socialism and the like find a place in this blog? By the posts about my dog? Nestled in a post about a botched project? Yeah, that's what I thought. I know what I am good at, and it most certainly isn't sussing out the right and wrong of complex matters. Or matters more complex than say, ice cream flavors or knitting related injuries. But I have to say something.

To all the news people (except Jon Stewart and Rachel Maddow, they know what's up), the angered citizens, and nice old ladies out there, hear my cries:

TEA BAGGING DOES NOT MEAN WHAT YOU THINK IT MEANS. SERIOUSLY, IT DOESN'T.




As a point of clarification, I think that protesting is wonderful. If you don't like something, shout it from the mountaintops! From the mountains! To the oceans! To the...other things! Prairies? Those too! Get pissed, start bitching, and get all your friends who are pissed also to bitch with you. Things can change if you want them to. But there's one thing: you can shout all you like, but until the name of your little movement is not something that 13 year old boys whisper behind their hands- you don't stand a fucking chance, guys. Sorry.

As another point of clarification- the Big Bad They In Washington has really only done what you and I would do given the chance. It's called Oversight, and we Americans want it. But we don't wanna do it. We want someone else, the penultimate in trustworthiness, to watch our backs so we don't have to. What? I don't wanna do it. I'm too busy watching TV. The thing is that ultimately- We The People have ultimately reaped just what we've sown. We don't give a fuck until we can't afford to buy Cheap Plastic Crap at Wal-Mart. After that, it's time to put everyone under the microscope and proclaim politicians to be thieves and crooks. Can someone steal what you blindly hand over to them? The weren't born into their Senate and House seats, a king did not appoint them either. We did. We cast our ballots for them because the name sounded familiar, or worse- we couldn't be bothered to cast our ballot at all and trusted That Guy to do it for us. You know, the guy who blows his nose at the table in the restaurant, the lady driving the massive SUV while on her cell phone, yeah all those assholes got to write our tickets for so very long now and it's only really come to pass and now we want to teabag.

Well, if it were anatomically possible, I'd teabag the American People. But since I can't, I will laugh hysterically at the people on TV who have failed to consult with their teenage-or-older children, or UrbanDictionary.com to make sure they aren't naming themselves something so utterly and completely ridiculous that it is actually the distilled essence of the Problem With The Way Things Are Today.

Reality is too strange for me. I am going back to the Land of Domesticity, where things make sense.