We’re all Ned Beatty or Can you believe in change.

After following the Obama administration through its first year, I’ve come to a disturbing conclusion: we’re all Ned Beatty.

Now I don’t mean to belittle or make light of man rape; however, I feel violated inasmuch as Beatty suffered at the hands of his redneck attackers. Which brings up an important aside–why is it that all in predatory man rape scenes, the perpetrator is a southern, racist, redneck (Zed from Pulp Fiction comes to mind immediately).why the images of Beatty and Zed are haunting)–I was assuredly ready to believe in change, hope for c

Obama promised much as a candidate, and after eight depressing as hell years of Bush–hell cubed as I’m a bible belt resident (I guess change, and was almost downright revolutionary for change. Ardently, I supported his candidacy so Ned Beatty too). I even phone banked and volunteered time to campaign for our future present. A first much so I wrote angry posts about Hillary and those of Hillarynation (Note to PUMAs everywhere, if this is where you expect an apology or are about to bask in the glory of being proven right, give it up, you’re for me.

Though I eagerly anticipated seismic political shifts and felt Obama was the best catalyst, I kept reminding myself of Pete Townsend’s sage-like advice about the new boss being the same as the old one and tried to temper optimism–which wasn’t that difficult given, during the Bush years, I’d tempered it to the point it was the charred and smoldering end of a stomped cigarette.

I admit I kinda began to believe the hype–another bad omen; should’ve listend to Flav. When promises to end a senseless war, revive the middle class, combat and prosecute war crimes, meaningfully reform healthcare, curtail Wall Street’s abuse of power and re-institute financial regulations, create jobs to reinvigorate the middle class, and take steps to combat climate change emanated, I admit I was partially seduced in that way we’re all partially seduced by someone we think may wreck our lives but careless abandon and lust for a return to youthful naïvete overcomes the superego and id wins out! I stupidly believed the pillow talk.

Jump 11 months into the future:

We’re still at war. I accepted, grudgingly, that Obama was going to escalate in Afghanistan when he was a candidate. Only the fool hearted believed he would decelerate that war.

Middle class Americans suffer the Ned Beatty fate daily and are so abused they are likely to be killed off within the next three years.

Obama’s Justice Department is filing Amicus Briefs on behalf of Bush’s torture lawyer.

Guantanamo is still open as are other illegal “Black Prisons”.

No torture hearings, prosecutions, or any other real investigations.

Obama’s Justice Department fails to stand up for Don Siegleman.

The Patriot Act goes on and on.

Those that caused the need for a Wall Street bailout (Summers, Geithner, et al) are given the keys to the proverbial candy store in a move that’s similar to loosing a gaggle of unfettered pedophilic priests on daycares across the nation–see Matt Taibi’s most recent Rolling Stone article for all the gore you can stomach.

Financial regulation is going no where.

Jobs aren’t coming back.

Forget any climate change reform.

Bush’s willfully and wantonly abusive tax cuts aren’t ever going to be repealed.

Which gets me back to Ned Beatty as that is when I, and I suspect a lot of you, became him. I mean, what were all of those unrealized–or utterly ignored once elected–promises if not pillow talk? It’s as if between playful ear twists and encouragement to squeal I can hear, “Let me be clear, when I’m elected president, I will end this war. Now squeal, bitch.” In fact, originally, as many victims of abuse often fail to leave and even defend their abusers, I’ve defended my metaphorical, drunken redneck rapist. I still believed he would change. As many spurned and/or abused lovers have defended their mate’s transgressions with, “but this time he’ll change,” I too did so.

Now, though, after realizing I’m nothing more than Ned Beatty’s fate, I have to ask myself, “Can you believe in change?”

It’s not been staggeringly easy to do so. I mean, I’m feeling violated, angry, sullen, and depressed–much as I did when Bush was in office. It doesn’t help to see the ne’er-do-well Republicans continue to swagger and obstruct as they’ve always done even in the face of a mind numbingly, career ending defeat coupled with absolutely crushingly low poll numbers. Yet, they seem to be WINNING for fucks sake while the Democrats with an overwhelming majority–excuse me for reversing the metaphor–bend over and willingly ask for repeated raping Ned Beatty style. You see, we’re not alone, even our elected leaders are Ned Beatty. The difference is, in victory they act as the defeated. In defeat, they act even more defeated. Why, oh why, do they even pretend to fight? Even I can see it’s all a ruse.

Representative democracy died in this country well before I could vote. Our government has no inclination whatsoever to provide us anything that is reciprocal to the tax dollars and labor they reap from us (ie. Middle Class tax payers given they ain’t getting shit from the wealthy tax payers–what an oxymoron–as if there were any wealthy tax payers). They’re simply beholden to corporate interests who fund their campaigns and guarantee them the opportunity to live high on the hog (couldn’t resist that one–squeal!) while denying us the same benefits they enjoy.

Ergo, my original point, we’re all Ned Beatty and will be until we exercise the right to loudly protest while we still have it. It’s time for the Neds of the country to get off our collective hands and knees, stop acting piggy, and with exceeding volume demand our representatives represent our interests as vocally and obnoxiously as the other side. They are beating us after we shamed them. Had Obama not abandoned his promise and sold us out, had congressional and senatorial democrats not been, well, democrats, perhaps they would not be standing in line behind him for a turn to ream us. Or, perhaps we languished in post coital numbness for too long and are now too flummoxed, confused, betrayed, and, well, brutally mind raped to admit Obama is really a lighter shade of Bush.

Can You Believe In Change?

PS. If you goddamned Tea Baggers think Bush didn’t metaphorically turn you all into Ned Beattys too, take the sacks off your eyes, look at the foreclosure sign in your front lawn, turn off the closeted, self loathing, homosexual preachers you idolize, and see that we’re all collectively fucked.