September 13, 2011

We have iPads and shit, but other than that nothing’s really changed since the days of the Roman gladiators. Here again, Republican voters (mostly, I suppose) giving the ultimate “thumbs down” to Wolf Blitzer’s Theoretical Uninsured Comatose 30-Year-Old.


September 9, 2011
THIS IS HAPPENING!: I’ll have what he’s having


President Obama took Congress over the knee last night and in the process delivered his most compelling argument for anything since he was asking The America to vote for that hopey-changy stuff back in November, 2008.

His new American Jobs for Americans Without Jobs and Who Need Jobs Jobs Jobs Act is a more subtly crafted mini-stimulus — payroll tax cuts, tax credits for companies adding employees, and a whole lotta love for those dunderheads who are and will remain hopelessly unemployed until they turn 65 and become euphemised wards of the state. Oh, and money for — GASP! — teachers, too.

The plan alone offers a lot to digest (though it’s a relative novella compared to Candidate Romney’s Homage to Dead Russian Writers), and the president’s spastic cajoling of his colleagues to “Pass this bill now like before you get up for a piss!” only made it harder to chew, swallow, chew, swallow. But as it turned out, the Major Speech was just a prologue to the true odd happening of the night, which would come in the form of a statement released by the office of House Majority Leader John Boehner… and began like this:

“The proposals the President outlined tonight merit consideration.”

What the shit?

We at TDF have a lot of questions and more than a few jokes about Mr. Boehner’s citric countenance. But all that to the side a moment…

"The proposals the President outlined tonight merit consideration."

Surely not.

Perhaps the speaker was emboldened by the spirit of Tip O’Neill, Ronald Reagan’s sodden enabler for much of the 1980s? Given the president’s channeling of The Gipper, his “Screw all you here, I’m gonna convince the fat morons watching this on their flatscreens” BEFORE I start cutting deals, and not the other way around strategy, this is very much a possibility.

It’s also feasible that Boehner had been drinking. Or that he had lost a lot of money on the golf course and this was his only way to settle up the debt. Who knows, maybe the vice president threw in a box of fatty Cubans to sweeten the deal?

More questions than answers, as always, but there’s one thing that’s becoming increasingly, emphatically clear: John Boehner is THE guy in Washington you want to get drunk with.

For too long, the debate over which politician, which candidate usually, the people would most like to meet out for a beer has been miscast; a serious question transformed into some frivolous proxy war over who can appeal, with the least thinly-veiled contempt, to the lowest common denominator of the electorate. George W. Bush built a campaign around the the idea, aided and abetted by a credulous press who was too busy anyway making fun of wonky Al Gore, that he was that guy.

John Boehner is not George W. Bush. For one, he does actually still drink, while GWB is a Recovering Alcoholic and Born Again Christian (not ideal company at the pub). But neither is Boehner a Republican reboot of 80’s Ted Kennedy. You won’t read stories about Boehner slobbering on the waitress and kicking over trash cans after a $2,000 night in Georgetown with Chris Dodd. And he’s certainly no Obama, whom we’d imagine takes about an hour to finish his Heineken Light and only then after checking his Blackberry 36 times.

No, John Boehner likes The Good Things In Life…. Single Malt Scotch Whisky, a pack of Camels, 36 holes on a Friday afternoon, and goddamn it, what ABOUT those stogies you were showing off on the boat last weekend??


Winner: Null field

Loser: You’ve read all the way down to the bottom? Well, congrats, it’s most certainly you.



September 8, 2011
THIS IS HAPPENING!*: A field of Barbaros

There is a 15-year-old pubescent with an emerging priapism astounded at the ferocious rounds of self-abuse the political press inflicts upon itself at the mere suggestion it is under-cooking its National Electathon coverage; that it might be treating the Actual Important Thing That It Is more like a quadrennial Cherrypop Stakes at Hollyoaks.

The Dark Fields, cluttered and stunted by shame and denial in so many other endeavors, finds itself entirely accepting of the “horse race” metaphor. There’s a reason these things take hold and it’s usually because they fit the situation so damn well. 

Try looking at the story this way: The Republican primary field is a bunch of Barbaros, minus the courage and massive horse dongs (Perry excepted), trampling over one another for a chance to scarf oats from a golden chalice. Right? Simple.

And last night! The candidates, all teeth and stinking of stall-shit, lined up like swarthy thoroughbreds at their podiums — Gingrich of course bucking and requiring a swift paddle stroke up the ass before settling into his gate— and with the jockeys in place, OFF THEY WENT! Brilliant.

The Frontrunners looked at risk of being boxed in out of the gate, but clever trips from Brian Williams and John Harris, who would both ride the shit out of Perry and Romney all night, got them free and away from the mad, stumbling pack. Exactly!


"Pace makes the race," they used to grumble between hefty drags from those Marlboro Reds at The Dark Fields’ OTB, and even a small-time mark could see that Ron Paul was never going to keep his. Older none the wiser, the shrill Texan just can’t help but hit the quarter-pole five lengths ahead of the nearest competition. 

It was poor breeding that ruled out Santorum and Bachmann. They might not be directly related but they were definitely sharing more DNA than any other pair on the stage.

Weight will always hold back Gingrich, who, as ever, looked more Porcine than Equine.

Herman Cain is one of the two (more on the other in a moment) who defy horse-logic. His “Non-Non-Non” plan was intriguing, mind, but we’ll still take the Domino’s “Five-Five-Five” deal first. As for his other keynote concept, let us speak plainly: Herm Cain has a better chance of dating a Chilean Model than implementing one. 


And then there’s Jon Huntsman.

While the others prepped with the standard naked jumping-jacks and mineral injections, this lunatic was humming along to Ben Folds and shooting off delirious tweets from his campaign bus.

There was some discussion earlier on in his campaign, if we can call it that (we can, actually, the question centers more on what exactly he’s campaigning for, and why), if Gov. Huntsman had any real interest in being president. Last night, he responded…

By swallowing three caps of magic mushrooms and damn near eating his tie on stage. 

Line after line of delirious nonsense and an insanely raised right eyebrow were evidence enough this man wants no part of the White House and for God’s sake, just wants to Be Here Now and love on his beautiful bride. 

Jon Huntsman, the one candidate who makes sense.


Winners: Anyone who writes a weekly column anywhere. Perry’s repeated assertion that Social Security is a Ponzi Scheme is a dream for everyone with a deadline and a blank screen/mind.

Losers: Yous.



*This evening newsletter format is A COMPLETE CONCEPTUAL RIP-OFF of The (UK) Guardian’s Fiver column. We’ve just adjusted from soccer to politics and shaved off a few thousand IQ points. /DISCLAIMED for the last time

September 8, 2011

The Dark Fields does its best to pretend these things away, but Dr. Freud says “avoidance” will only make it more of an issue later. So here we are: TDF’S FAVORITE MOMENT OF LAST NIGHT’S REPUBLICAN PRIMARY DEBATE. WHITE-SKINNED/HAIRED MEN AND LADIES CLAMORING FOR MORE OF CANDIDATE PERRY’S DEATH HOSE!

9:06am  |   URL:
Filed under: Life and Death 2012 
September 7, 2011
THIS IS HAPPENING!*: A note on Rick Perry’s Hose

So it seems Rick Perry has denied tindering Texas a few hours in the cool shade of his massive hose, instead electing to beat off any comparison to John McCain’s hilariously “suspended” campaign of 2008 and get his debate on in California.

Rarely has a (I don’t know if what I’m about to say is true, but it might as well be) Frontrunner stepped into the cross hairs of his primary opponents with such an utter lack of experience in this brand of nonsense. The functionally impaired money here says he hunkers down, gently thrusts himself through the predictable muddle of Ron Bachsmancainrich and saves just a lone star stab for the guy with the second best hair on the stage.

Oh, my dear Mittens. Tonight, he Goes On The Offensive, pundit code for “Jolly Roger That fella is fucked and better say some meaaaan shit to get his name back in the headlines.” But as we’ve seen — like with McCain, also in California, around this time in 2008 — Mittens is not one for the attack. Worse, this time around it won’t be an old man (albeit one whom spent much of that evening visibly delighting in the idea of stabbing Mittens in the neck with his pen) sitting by his side. No, the enemy tonight will be the man with the traction engine in his shorts and an apparently docile but deceptively deadly possum on his head.

Pity the wives.


Eugene V. Debs gave a rousing and surprising speech, given that he’s been dead for 84 years, this past week in Iowa. One of the founders of the International Labor Union and the International Workers of the World, the five-time Socialist Party presidential candidate (his last campaign being hamstrung by the prison cell in which he sat) has not yet revealed his plans for 2012, but when he’s talking like this, even given the fact he’s been dead since the heyday of The Charleston, people just can’t help but get excited…

"The permanent political class – they’re doing just fine. Ever notice how so many of them arrive in Washington, D.C. of modest means and then miraculously throughout the years they end up becoming very, very wealthy? Well, it’s because they derive power and their wealth from their access to our money – to taxpayer dollars.  They use it to bail out their friends on Wall Street and their corporate cronies, and to reward campaign contributors, and to buy votes via earmarks. There is so much waste. And there is a name for this: It’s called corporate crony capitalism. This is not the capitalism of free men and free markets, of innovation and hard work and ethics, of sacrifice and of risk. No, this is the capitalism of connections and government bailouts and handouts, of waste and influence peddling and corporate welfare. This is the crony capitalism that destroyed Europe’s economies. It’s the collusion of big government and big business and big finance to the detriment of all the rest – to the little guys. It’s a slap in the face to our small business owners – the true entrepreneurs, the job creators accounting for 70% of the jobs in America, it’s you who own these small businesses, you’re the economic engine, but you don’t grease the wheels of government power.

GAH! says The Dark Fields, set alight by a far-off memory, a dream really, of Barcelona ‘36 and Lenin’s skipping arrival at the Finland Station!

But wait.

Crossed up lines, again. Our apologies. This transmission from the Hawkeye State was, in fact, delivered by one Sarah Palin, once GOP vice presidential candidate, and a half-of-once governor of Alaska. That’s Sarah Palin, private citizen, like Debs, not running for president of the United States in the 2012 Electathon


Winners: Looking… Looking… Looking (at you)… Still looking…

Losers: Where’d you go? There you are! It’s you.



*This evening newsletter format is A COMPLETE CONCEPTUAL RIP-OFF of The (UK) Guardian’s Fiver column. We’ve just adjusted from soccer to politics and shaved off a few thousand IQ points. /DISCLAIMED for the last time

September 6, 2011
New (daily) feature: THIS IS HAPPENING!*

Open up wide, America, because this is happening.

Everyday at 6 p.m.

THIS… this is the 2012 Presidential Electathon; it’s the rubber-to-road campaigning; it’s the dick-to-dick debating; it’s the pun-to-pun p-p-punditry; it is the sound and the fury and the Nothing. It’s Nirvana, and by the simple fact of its absence, it’s all here.

At six. Everyday. Clear?

We’ll have your Frontrunners and Dark Horses and Spoilers, your Comeback Kids, some Will-She-Won’t-She and even the Incumbent, but him only after Major Speeches.

No, they might not think much of you, but The Dark Fields sure do. Seriously. For you, we’ve taken up a job Sisyphus himself would surely have dismissed. “Just a silly exercise with no real point,” the sinewy-in-spite-of-himself deposed monarch said, or would have, flip as ever in turning down an offer to contribute.

"Best case you hurt your back, really."

So here’s the plan:

Everyday, no matter how dire, we’re going to give you the news from the campaign trail. Thing is, it’s coming at the end of the day. No silly predictions, certainly no reporting. And by God, nothing to edify you. If you feel at all edified after reading one of our nightly dispatches, kindly ask the system administrator for your unique click back.

Before we go… A quick peek ahead:

Today, some stuff happened. Mitt Romney unleashed his jobs plan on the nation. A detailed study reveals a strong quotient of Hodgepodge — real quality there — but the notable absence of Derring-do, the latter being a sure nod to the Perry Voter, who’s about had his goddamn fill of the Fancy-dan and Crackerjack.

But can Mitt catch off enough of the would-be Cocksman-in-Chief’s post-natal support before it’s too late? Only Time and Chris Cillizza can tell, but both might have to wait as it seems Perry will miss tomorrow night’s debate as he swans around smoldering Texas, condemning the rain to fall while marveling at the local hellscape from a thunderous chopper and waking to the sounds of that throbbing country cockerel.. in his pants.

Today’s Winner: Not you.

Today’s Loser: You, certainly, and quite a few others.


*This evening newsletter format is A COMPLETE CONCEPTUAL RIP-OFF of The (UK) Guardian’s Fiver column. We’ve just adjusted from soccer to politics and shaved off a few thousand IQ points. /DISCLAIMED.


June 22, 2011
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for Newt and Callista (is there not something Shakespearean about the Lady Gingrich?)


Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for Newt and Callista (is there not something Shakespearean about the Lady Gingrich?)


2:38pm  |   URL:
Filed under: 2012 
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