Okay, that’s it.
I had made a gentle, but firm promise to myself that I was going to try and go two whole weeks of the new year without ranting political.
But then came Rod Blogojevich.
Not be confused with “then came Maude…” which is a different matter, entirely.
If only because Maude’s ridiculous hair doesn’t hold a candle to the governor’s coif.
Like many of you, I’ve watched the story with a moderate amount of interest. I say moderate because I don’t live in Illinois, don’t really care about Illinois politics and the morality, or lack of same, of the governor of Illinois isn’t directly affecting my life or the lives of the people I love.
But, regardless of the premise, good old-fashioned scandal is a hard elephant in the room to ignore, no matter where the room is.
Here’s the thing, though.
I don’t see this as old-fashioned scandal under any definition.
This scandal, mi amigos, is the realization of a dream that sociopaths have dared to dream since the mid 90’s.
The dream that began with O.J.
An America where being caught red handed not only didn’t immediately result in regret, remorse and rehabilitation in the form of an all expense paid stay at one of the country’s finer penal institutions…
…but, rather, an America where you not only didn’t necessarily do the time, you didn’t even necessarily have to admit to doing the crime.
Even if your guilt was more obvious than the deterioration of Michael Jackson’s face.
Tape recordings? Video verification? Blood on your hands?
Yeah, whatever.
I didn’t do it.
Well, okay, maybe I did it, but I’m going to move right along here and get on with the people’s business, comprende’?
Denial is no longer just a river in Egypt.
Hell, man, it’s not even just a lame attempt to avoid the inevitable.
It’s evolved into an exquisitely executed art form.
Pablo Picasso, move over, dude.
Meet Rod Blogojevich.
And while I hold fast to the belief that most of us see this guy for the world-class narcissist that he is, I have to admit (and, come on, you admit it, too) that this whole episode is fascinating.
If only because there’s something mesmerizing about watching a guy standing on the tracks with a train barreling down on him at a hundred miles an hour who not only doesn’t see the train coming…
…he’s telling us there ain’t no train.
Don’t get me wrong.
Mesmerizing doesn’t mean worthy of admiration.
In fact, this new “trend” of “well, yeah, I’m guilty as Cain but what the hell…” is, to any reasonably moral person, pretty disturbing.
Because, when you get down to it, we’re not talking about people who sin and eventually have to face that bothersome organ we all deal with from time to time.
The conscience.
We’re talking about people who simply don’t have one.
It’s one thing to be concerned for the safety and well being of our loved ones in a culture that endures the sociopathic and/or psychopathic personalities of serial killers.
It’s another thing when those personalities win the Heismann Trophy.
Or end up in the Governor’s mansion.
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