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Here
is my little confession to the world at large: I’m a Ron Paul
supporter. This might not seem like much in the way of a confession, but for
me it represents something of a coming out. No, I’m not some aging red-diaper
baby who has only now seen the light. It’s more like a reawakening. Let
me explain.
In my
most youthful and idealistic years I labored in the vineyards of
conservo-libertarian think-tankdom. They were not necessarily bad years; in
fact, I met lots of dedicated and wonderful people, most all of whom I
consider friends to this day. Together, we toiled tirelessly to produce
studies, reports, commentaries, and policy briefs full of logic and evidence
and reason explaining why this or that political or economic course of action
would yield the most desirable outcome in terms of justice, prosperity,
morality, decency, and simple human dignity.
But
eventually, I grew disenchanted with the whole project. It began to dawn on
me that we could churn out report after report warning of the malevolence and
stupidity of any given government proposal and extolling the fairness and
wisdom of the best alternative policy decisions – and yet it would
never matter. And the reason it would never matter is because those to whom
the studies, reports, commentaries, and policy briefs were most obviously
addressed did not care about things like logic and evidence and reason. They
were corporate media hacks and politicians, and what they care about most is
popularity and power – things that only the most disordered of
personalities place at the pinnacle of their Maslowian hierarchy of needs.
In the
years since my exodus from "The Movement," as we used to call it,
I’ve (understandably, I plead) become a bitter, curmudgeonly cynic on
the subject of all things political. I decided my father, who once told me he
hasn’t voted in any election since Nixon became president and who
believes all politicians are thieves and parasites, is absolutely right. Like
Dad, I do not suffer fools and their B.S. gladly, with the result being that
I cannot read newspapers or stand watching even 30 seconds of any TV
"news" at the risk of my boiling blood greatly curtailing my
personal longevity. I’ve become a principled nonvoter and, in the
process, annoyed some of my friends and utterly baffled my girlfriend.
But I
digress. I met Ron Paul a few years ago, while I was still toiling in those
aforementioned vineyards. He was, just as he appears in his current campaign,
a warm, affable, sincere man who firmly believes that what he’s doing
is in the best interests of his fellow Americans. We spent some time together
in a car driving to Hillsdale, Michigan, where he was to give a speech at the
college there, and it was a wonderfully refreshing drive. In my life in
think-tankdom, Dr. Paul was far from the first or only politician I
interacted with. What he was was a normal human being who happened to hold a
seat in the U.S. House of Representatives. And as far as I know, to this day,
he is the only member of Congress to enjoy this distinction.
So
when I say I’m a Ron Paul supporter, I want it to register with as much
impact as possible. I hate politics and politicians. I hate the stage-managed
presidential dog-and-pony shows. Excluding public hanging, I have never truly
supported any politician for anything, whether Democrat, Republican,
Libertarian, or nebulous independent.
But
today, I sent in a donation to Ron Paul’s campaign. Why?
In
2000, I was convinced that Bush, Jr. vs. Gore might very well be the most awful
presidential election ever conceived. In 2004, I thought Bush vs. Kerry was
the worst "choice" ever. And now here we are in 2008, and the
terrible prospect of Hillary Clinton vs. John McCain exceeds the capacity of
the English language to describe its truly monumental dreadfulness.
No, I
don’t believe in electoral politics, and I’d rather spend my time
and money on more personally gratifying endeavors, like any normal fellow
would, but I think that, after the last eight years of misrule under the scion
of a family of mediocrities, Dr. Paul might be the last hope for America to
recover some sense of itself as something other than a retarded, belligerent,
imperial suicide.
On the
day when I present my papers to the heel-clicking goon in a ski mask demanding
to know why I am leaving the land of the allegedly free and the home of the
selectively brave in favor of some tropical island that does not have
soldiers in more than 130 countries, I at least want to have the peace of
mind knowing that I tried. I tried as much and as often as my circumstances
and temperament allowed.
Ron
Paul won’t win the Republican nomination, but I don’t care about
that. I care about the message the existence of his candidacy powerfully
perpetuates. And that message is, "Dear Corporate Politico-Media
Complex: I will not be told what to think or who to support, nor will I ever
again appear to approve of your vast criminal enterprise. Kindly kiss my rear
end, now that you’ve been exposed to the entire world for the evil
phonies that you are."
If for
nothing else, I thank you now for this, Dr. Paul.
David
Bardallis
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