Andrew Sullivan’s Season in Hell

I don’t know if y’all have heard, but apparently there’s some sort of senate race happening in Massachusetts that is going to decide the fate of the known universe. From what I can gather by skimming Google News, Ted Kennedy’s ghost has demanded that Martha Coakley be sacrificed to a Republican golem named Scott Brown — a creature whose pure destructive power is matched only by the Nanook Hockey Bear.

Well, the Nostradamus of our times, Andrew Sullivan predicts nothing less that total disaster!

I can see no alternative scenario but a huge – staggeringly huge – victory for the FNC/RNC machine tomorrow. They crafted a strategy of total oppositionism to anything Obama proposed a year ago. Remember they gave him zero votes on even the stimulus in his first weeks. They saw health insurance reform as Obama’s Waterloo, and, thanks in part to the dithering Democrats, they beat him on that hill. They have successfully channeled all the rage at the massive debt and recession the president inherited on Obama after just one year. If they can do that already, against the massive evidence against them, they have the power to wield populism to destroy any attempt by government to address any actual problems.

This is a nihilist moment, built from a nihilist strategy in order to regain power … to do nothing but wage war against enemies at home and abroad.

In the words of Walter Sobchak, Nihilists!? Fuck me. Wherefore this sullen Andrew Sullivan, though? I mean, Christ, he sounds like a (more) melodramatic Arthur Rimbaud or something.

[Cut to scene of ANDREW SULLIVAN, disaffected American blogger, sitting at a dingy cafe in the Montmartre district of Paris. SULLIVAN is smoking, sipping a tall glass of absinthe and talking to a bored whore.]

SULLIVAN: This, mi enfant …. all of this. [Waves cigarette around.] C’est rien! Nothing! I used to believe, but now I know the truth. God, country, the Democratic Party … pah! The world is coming crashing down around us, and what is love? What is faith? What is poetry? It is nothing, and I dedicate my art to nothing — to its mountain of lies and illusion!

[SULLIVAN tears a page out of a wine-stained notebook he keeps in his breast pocket and lights the bottom edge with his cigarette. Camera follows a burning ember of the page as it wafts through the air and lands in the nearby gutter. Fade to black.]

But seriously, you seem a little depressed, Mr. Sullivan. Would you say you are … gloomy?

Yes, I’m gloomy. Not because I was so wedded to this bill, although I think it’s a decent enough start. But because if America cannot grapple with its deep and real problems after electing a new president with two majorities, then America’s problems are too great for Americans to tackle.

And so one suspects that this is a profound moment in the now accelerating decline of this country. And one of the major parties is ecstatic about it.

Well, gee, I’d be gloomy too if I’d tied my ego, hopes and dreams to a messianic political figure who turned out to be (surprise) another politician. But I probably wouldn’t write a whiny blog post claiming that it was a signifier of the end of the country because people were too stupid to understand “the real problems” (nihilism?) that could only be solved if they placed more faith in Great Leader. That would be a little hubristic.

In conclusion, I’m terribly sorry we, as an entire nation, have failed you, Andrew Sullivan. When historians look back, they will surely see the Massachusetts senate race of 2010 as America’s equivalent of the sack of Rome, Waterloo, or perhaps the USC 2009-2010 football season.


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