Dear Dirty America

Maybe Bill Maher subscribes to Dear Dirty America. Or, perhaps, he and DDA swim in the same pool of tainted collective unconscious. Either way, the notable difference between this website and Bill Maher is that when both of these entities make a similar controversial statement like, Barack Obama & America’s foreign policy is the George Zimmerman of the Middle East, only one of them gets widespread mainstream media coverage, accolades from fans, and frothing denunciations from constipated pundits.

On July 22 of this year, this website published an article called Obama uses George Zimmerman’s logic in the Middle East. Other than a couple retweets, there was an overwhelming silence and disinterest in that sentiment. I figured that the notion was just so unpopular, even though it was obvious and worthy of discussion. The US goads other nations into violence and vitriol, and then either invades or unleashes a series of drone strikes to cripple the anti-American sentiment.

Yet, over the 9/11 anniversary holiday, Bill Maher made a very similar statement on his show, Real Time, and would you believe the press and attention he received?

Fox News wrote up a terse report about Maher’s claims. The Huffington Post featured it on their front page for a couple of days. Twitter lit up. Facebook shared it tens of thousands of times, if not more. Folks were bloviating about it at the local coffee shop.

I can take three lessons from this situation: 1) Dear Dirty America is not a trusted source for opinions, and those opinions may even seem outlandish until somebody like Bill Maher or Noam Chomsky spits them out; 2) Bill Maher is a secret reader of this site, and he devours the content daily, and riffles through the old posts while sipping on a strong cup of coffee; and 3) if I too want to make headlines about my opinions, I ought to fine-tune my fellatio skills and service a few influential, big-time LA ‘members’, or (and maybe this is the same option, really) I ought to join a good-standing Masonic lodge in Los Angeles and grease the skids in getting myself a goddamned popular political TV show.

But, becoming a team player won’t be easy. I did well enough making friends in a fraternity during my college years. I know how to tip back beers with the right people, heartily slap a lot of backs, and enthusiastically fumble my way through that first initiation ritual in a darkened room.

Becoming an influential person in this society shouldn’t be too hard. As I claw my way up the Masonic ranks, I’ll make lifelong friends, many of whom undoubtedly hold influential positions in Southern California, and the world.

Masonic diploma, 1891

If I proceed just right, I’ll find myself masturbating into an empty coffin and recounting aloud all my sexual exploits. While this action alone is enough to set me apart as a realistic future candidate for presidency, I won’t be thinking that far ahead. Besides, I’d never cut my hair. Just because the nation elected its first half-black president doesn’t mean the good ole boy voting bloc is ready to extend their power to a tangle-haired hippie who washes his clothes in the bathtub.

And even if I’d opted to run for president (as many folks on Twitter have told me I should), I would not be a peaceful leader. I would instantly order the military to aim its cruise missiles at my vermin-infested White House. If I start any wars, call for any invasions of sovereign nations, or willfully provoke any violence around the world, pull the trigger, I’ll say. Because every jughead in office before me seems to be unable to help himself in sparking unbelievable violence overseas.

If that ever happens, do the country a kindness, I’ll command my top military brass, and take me out.

But, let’s get back to the coffin ritual. It would be a mistake to jump the gun on these issues while I’m still on my knees trying to get past Masonic level 3. I may become unnerved at some point, but the clammy hands on my shoulders should calm me enough to finish the deed and gain the necessary approval to climb another rank.

The biggest question I’ll have is if I’m suitable for the 33rd degree ranking? What do I have to do to become Illuminated? Proclaim that Lucifer is the source of Light? Applaud the Snake as the giver of knowledge that sprung Adam and Eve out of the Garden, and out of their naive darkness? Who knows for sure about all the details at that level? Albert Pike only revealed so much. Maybe Lucifer itself lets its scaly serpent slither through a glory hole to plumb the resistant orifices of the newest-ranking initiate into the Light.

It sounds bad, but it’s meant to be an honor. You must be fulfilled inwardly before you can shine out.

Whatever oaths I have to take, no matter how spiritually compromising they are, I’ll be happy to do so. That way, when I write an article on Dear Dirty America, people will know about the damned thing, whether they like it or not. After all, life can be so long, especially without constant, satisfying attention from the masses. Meanwhile, the soul seems so far away, I can hardly feel it.

It’s time to make a deal with the right friends. Maybe HBO isn’t so far away. Or Disney could cut me a deal as a pundit for their all-seeing ABC eye network. Bill Maher is not getting any younger either. He’ll need to be replaced. There’ll be no hope to fill his shoes without the proper credentials.

I’d like a little share of the power and the glory. Wouldn’t we all?

[Maher behind bars, photo by christopherharte; Maher Hollywood Star, photo by Angela George]