I read a book a couple days ago, golly

I read a book recently. Surprised?

What book, you ask. It was Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72 by one Hunter S. Thompson. The next question you ask is, "What in God's name are you doing reading topical new-journalistic work from 1972 in this day and age? Why, goddammit, in 1972 people thought we would have space-planes and robots and a telescreen in every living room. What can they have to tell us?"

This is a good question, but watch your language. I don't even know who reads this blog. There could be children involved.

I read the book because it interested me on several levels.

ONE-
Hunter S. Thompson at least invented--accidentally perhaps, but then again penicillin was an accident--something which was new and fresh and stunning, and '72 was perhaps the one time he made a concerted effort of applying his hand-crafted Gonzo New-Journalism monstrosity to the national stage. These days all you have to do is crack a Rolling Stone to read prose lifted right out of Thompson's brain and then run through a tenderizer nine or twenty times so it can meet standards. Paragraph after paragraph of neo-Gonzo pablum flung out in an article about goddamn Nickelback or whatever they want to pretend matters. Sometimes meta-Journalism, Gonzo, the act of the journalist turning away from objectivity and facing him/herself is the only sane response. I once read an article a nice young lady wrote about her attempted and aborted coverage of the Godless beast that produces the "Girls Gone Wild" tapes; the entire affair was such a damn travesty that it could only be understood as Gonzo.

But more and more published and televised journalism disgusts me. They've only got two flavors--the one that pretends to be objective but isn't, and the one that doesn't pretend but bores me anyway. Who neutered these people? I think they were fooling us when they did Watergate and the Pentagon papers. It was a trick. They wanted us to think we could trust them, just so they would have time to shiv Walter Cronkite in a back alley and then run credulous garbage about Iraqi WMDs.

At least when Hunter lied it was hilarious.

TWO-
Hillary Clinton is the new Hubert Humphrey. I mean, Jesus, let's qualify my statement a bit, Hell. What do I know about Hubert Humphrey? What I've read, what I've read. But all that indicates that he was some foul barbarous creature who represented the worst of Democratic machine politics and had no real positions apart from wanting to be president. Does this sound like anyone we know?

I watch the bloody primary season and marvel at the determination of some people to nominate the very worst candidate in the entire lot. She's the most conservative, most easily bought, most owned by special interests already, least responsive to the will of the people, indeed least respectful of the people, and she's carrying eight years of Bill Clinton-brand baggage that will hurt her numbers even if we completely discount her general weaknesses, which are manifold.

The only thing redeeming that sad mess is the fact that the GOP field is a bunch of feckless neutered liars who couldn't convince a man dying of thirst to buy a glass of water from them. Even a foundering vessel like Hillary Clinton can overtake a pack of rudderless and mastless cripples like the Republican candidates. I'm looking forward to November to an extent that would almost make a Hillary Clinton nomination worth it. What could be more poetic than watching Mitt Romney or whatever other shambling corpse they stuff into the Candidate Suit get the unholy tar beaten out of him by Bill Clinton's wife? Would they ever recover? I hope not.

Plus Barack Obama is still only 46. Even if Hillary becomes the first lady prez, if he kept his nose clean in the interim and led the liberal wing of the party (if could unseat Harry Reid, that noxious cretin, it would be beautiful), he could turn up as the heir apparent in 2016 and still be younger than Hillary is now. 16 years of Democratic leadership, God Willing.

THREE-
God, I've only come up with two levels. I'm in trouble now.