Tuesday, July 10, 2007



I don’t get us Americans. Sometimes I really think that we hallucinate in “fantasy island,” wallowing in our delusions, resisting reality, foolishly waiting for “the plane, the plane” to come to our shores. Newsflash: that rescue mission ain’t happening. Our symbolic “plane” comes courtesy of the mainstream media—and it’s by no means a rescue, giving new meaning to a crash landing when reality is concerned. Wherefore art thou, Hervé Villechaize?

Now that the American-backed government in Iraq has failed yet again on yet another report card, the mainstream media yet again seems beside itself because the Bush administration and its apologists, whom the media has enabled for so long, are beside themselves. Fantasy dysfunction, perhaps? Regardless of the old guard GOP defections—Lugar, Domenici, and Alexander—the media perpetuates its Fantasy Island myth—things are OK; the economy is good; the death toll in Iraq is grossly exaggerated; and it’s all the fault of the liberals and their media. Ricardo, Ricardo, wherefore art thou Senor Montalban?

Fantasy Island, though, endures other intrusions on its shores that take shape in the form of scandals. The scandal-tide grows so high and so frequently—and so f**king smelly—that we have all we can do to keep our heads above water. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that few Americans truly know about Scooter Libby and his fantasy—and Mary Matalin’s—that he had memory failure. A small scandal in the big scandal of things: Iraq persists as a mega-scandal; the justice department scandal is like a bad permutation of “Days of Our Lies;” and the DC madam sex scandal—for Senator David Vitter especially—is basic low-grade porn. Fantasy overload? Maybe. More like fantasy replacement because Americans prefer other realities that are much more attractive—Girls Gone Wild fantasies, the fantasies on the big screen, the fantasies of television, Hollywood, and the entertainment industry. These fantasies are THE fantasies that keep us content, that keep us more-focused in a less-focused way, that keep us LOST in daydream believing about, you know, homecoming queens.

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