The Vernon Castle Twelve-Step

Wow! Who knew Michelle Obama was an X-Man!

There. Had to get one more out of my system. The dress . . . you know . . . it looked like a superhero costume? Come on. Look again. You know it did!

Oh my God, the post-election euphoria has washed in faster than a hydrochloric enema!  Barack is President-elect, and the new Age of Decency has begun.

Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against decency. I admit, in fact, to a healthy lust, some might say lycanthropic craving, for decency. But I crave my decency like I crave my Steakhouse Burger–served to me and voraciously consumed by me napkin-be-damned without a dollop of remorse.  Radzack and the other “decentnistas” over at the Rev3 boards are promoting “forward thinking” and the “spreading positiveness and optimism.” Obama himself wants us to “resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long.”  That’s easy for him to say. He came from Harvard Law. You aren’t allowed to be sarcastic or facetious at Harvard Law. At the slightest whiff of innuendo the ghost of Professor Kingsfield morphs into solid form and bitch-slaps you with a rolled up copy of the Articles of Confederation.

Well listen, bub. I’m from a small town in the midwest. After the last Entendre Hut  closed down in the first year of the Reagan admininstration (Remember the Entendre Hut? “Got a healthy appetite? Ask for the double!”), and they moved the irony works to Argentina, we got bitter. That’s right! We clung to our puns and that ol’ time derision. We could have clinged, and no one would have been the wiser. But we looked it up, and then we clung! We bathed in our antipathy toward others who were not like us–to the people who meant what they said, to those who would have spit in the face of subtext had they recognized that it was even there, people who would have mocked our ways had they had a knack for mockery–as a way to sublimate and internalize our frustration.

Okay Barack. You beat them fair and square (Fair and square; rub it in!), and I supported you. I didn’t literally go and vote for you, but I vigorously allowed people to believe I did. On election day, when someone said “have you gone to vote for Obama yet?” I smiled and said “Well, I have to vote absentee.” In New York, intending to have voted even if you missed the deadline is the spiritual equivalent of the real thing. Look it up.

Anyway, I’m in. I drunk the Kool-Aid–I could have drank it, but I drunk it . . . on purpose! For you!

Just don’t expect it to be easy. Don’t expect it to happen overnight. There will be plenty of times in the coming weeks when I will fall from the wagon. OKAY! OFF! OFF the wagon! Geez. There will be nights when you will find me leading Maureen Down to culture but not making her drink.  But with God’s help (“It burnses us! It burnses us!”) I will find the promised land. I might cast the first stone, but I will not cast the first aspersion. I will wave bon voyage to my last bon mot. . . .

I am the Bigshotprof, and I am six months sincere. It’s been hard, but with your help I’ve made it to this day. Now, before I go, there is just one thing that I would like for you to tell me. Sincerely. From the bottom of your heart.

What do you think her mutant power is?


About bigshotprof

College Professor in the Communication Studies department at Pace University. My personal life fall somewhere in the gap between less than you want to know and more than you need to know.
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One Response to The Vernon Castle Twelve-Step

  1. Zack Luye says:

    Great post! It’s hard being sincere at times 😉

    Press on!

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