Photograph of Henry Rollins by Ben Swinnerton
A few days ago, I crawled away from the Democratic and Republican national conventions. I wasn’t even a participant—wasn’t even in America for the Democratic one but listened and watched from Scotland, and monitored the RNC from Los Angeles—and I felt worn out. Mr. Giuliani said “9-11,” who would have thought? Mr. McCain was as inspiring as laundry. It was Ms. Palin’s comedy routine that was most memorable. Freaky. How a woman who says that the difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull is lipstick is supposed to get me off is beyond me, but hearing the Nuremberg roar that greeted her scripted stupidity, someone was into it. Republicans who enjoy this kind of thing, they’re a strange bunch, know any? I wonder what they’ll do when and if they get what they want.
Apparently it’s off-limits to talk about Ms. Palin’s knocked-up daughter. Fuck that, I’ll talk about anything I want. The girl isn’t the issue. The fact that, if Obama or Biden had a daughter in the same situation, things would be handled very differently by the media isn’t the issue either. The sheer stupidity of abstinence-only and abstinence-until-marriage sex ed. programs are the issue to me, and it goes to Ms. Palin’s character. Oh wait, she doesn’t need to have character. She believes in Creationism, so that’s all the character and morality you really need to charge up the Republican base. I wonder how well that will protect her when the stunning number of lies she told on stage in Minnesota are cataloged and mentioned. I have heard a good many of them, but the news I read and listen to isn’t considered real news, so perhaps the truth will have to wait.
I have been saying since 2006 that John McCain—Sleepy John, as I call him—will be the next president of the United States. I want to be wrong but I think I am going to be right. Democrats don’t lower themselves to win, and face it: Republicans cheat. If that happens, America will be like a not-so-slow-motion car crash that you can’t take your eyes off of but, unfortunately, you’re in the car. The comedians will have another four years of material as the empire topples, but many others will have a life that is very low on laughs and very high on debt, foreclosure, and misery.
I travel alone all over the world. Middle East, Central Asia, Southeast Asia, Africa—you name it, I go. I meet people everywhere I go, from Iran to Pakistan to Cambodia, and I ask them what they think of my country. Usually, the answer is the same: they love America and want to visit or even live there someday. It’s good to know that we can still inspire. Imagine what America would be like with a 20 percent decrease in fear, a 10 percent increase in literacy, and more transparency in the media. We can have all of that and so much more, but it seems that millions of Americans are afraid. I’m not.
Ready? Let’s go.
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