August witnessed the Democratic National Convention transform itself from the usual extended session of group therapy to a religious awakening. And one other thing—those ritualistic liberals who at the end of the Cold War asseverated that Russia had been a paper tiger all along were again exposed as boobies. On August 8, Russia invaded Georgia with a massive military strike. Prime Minister Vladimir Putin insisted that the assault was in truth a peacekeeping measure to save scenic South Ossetia from the Georgian brutes, but students of geopolitics speculate that the action was really meant to pressure former Soviet Bloc countries to remain in the Russian orbit. How persuasive this Russian aggression will be remains uncertain. Already there are signs that recent Russian belligerence has triggered vigorous countermeasures from liberal-minded internationalists in the region. Throughout the Balkans, statues of American pop figures are being put up as “good luck charms against war,” according to Bloomberg News. In 2005 progressives in the Bosnian city of Mostar endeavored to ward off violence by erecting a bronze statue of the kung fu movie star Bruce Lee. Last year people in the Serbian city of Zitiste heaved up a muscular statue of the Sylvester Stallone movie character Rocky as a safeguard against war and bad juju. Now, in August, hundreds of reggae fans in the former Yugoslavian city of Banatski Sokolac have unveiled a handsome Bob Marley statue to oppose Russian aggression or any other inconvenience. Actually, if things go the way attendees at the Democratic Convention anticipate, the United Nations will be able to withdraw UN peacekeepers everywhere and leave in their place statues of the Prophet Obama, hand held out in warning, mouth wide open, milk and honey flowing from his pantaloons.
The Democratic Convention began on August 25 with its usual reminders of the widespread suffering prevailing throughout America, save on the country’s Republican-dominated golf courses. The convention ended with a mass movement of Democrats and even members of the godless media headed toward a spiritual awakening. All were turning to Sen. Barack H. Obama, the party’s presidential nominee, for salvation and an occasional act of healing. Even the party’s many Unitarians and yogis felt a supernatural goosing. The only recorded miracle that the Prophet worked during the convention occurred on opening night, when a satellite hookup between the candidate and the faithful in the convention hall showed that he was in Kansas City, though he rumbled, “Hi, I’m here with the Girardeau family in St. Louis.” So there you have it. He was in two places at once. Not even the New York Times editorial page tried to explain it in earthly terms. In point of fact, leading up to the convention Democrats were mildly apprehensive that—just as the Clintons had warned—the nominee was a greenhorn ass. His poll numbers were flat for most of the month. Sen. John McCain seemed to be creeping up. Finally, the day before the Denver convention commenced, four tornados touched down southwest of the city, and the Prophet raised not a hand against them. On the day after the Prophet’s official nomination, Sen. McCain tapped Mrs. Sarah Palin, governor of Alaska and former mayor of Wasilla, Alaska, to be his running mate. She is a former beauty queen, an NRA member, and the mother of five. Her executive experience outpaces the Prophet’s four years to zero. Moreover, she has a very presentable husband even if, as the ever helpful New York Times reported, he received a DUI 22 years ago. In Katmandu, Nepal, Maoist female lawmakers canceled that country’s beauty contest.
More good news on the Global warming front—nudism’s popularity continues to spread, at least south of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and in non-Muslim purlieus. Though who knows what is worn beneath those sultry burkhas and under a fat mullah’s St. Francis of Assisi outfit? In the United Kingdom, an enterprising Lincolnshire naturist has announced Britain’s first nude interior decorating service. Mr. Nick Male, a ravishing 37-year-old, has informed the press that “I work more now than when I left my clothes on.” Presumably he wears deodorant and waxes his legs, for he sounds like a serious chap. “I don’t do titillation and soon get rid of people looking for that,” he insists while remaining coy about precisely what “titillation” might be. Is it some thing way up there on the stepladder, Mr. Male? In the small Italian town of Mondragone, a Roman Catholic priest, Fr. Antonio Rungi, has canceled his planned beauty contest for nuns, which he billed as the world’s first beauty contest for women of the cloth. The cancellation came after his superiors threatened to box his ears, theologically speaking. “It was interpreted as more of a physical thing. Now, no one is saying that nuns can’t be beautiful, but I was thinking about something more complete.” Fr. Rungi did not elaborate. MSNBC, the cable news channel for the Angry Left and people with a twitch, has found its replacement for Mr. Tucker Carlson, the mini-con whom the network abandoned earlier this year. Mr. Carlson, after dutifully following management’s orders—discarding his bow tie, appearing in Bermuda shorts, wearing a propeller beanie on his late, late, late night show—has been replaced by an Air America radio host, Miss Rachel Maddow, who has overcome adenoidal disorders and mad cow disease to lift left-wing Air America’s ratings from naught to negligible all over urban America. Air America remains unknown in locales like Wasilla, Alaska. Miss Maddow has attracted accolades from media critics across the spectrum: from the Washington Post’s Mr. Howard Kurtz, who called her “a breakout star,” to the Maoist Nation, which chirped, “Maddow didn’t get here by bluster and bravado but with a combination of crisp thinking and galumphing good cheer.” Precisely what the ex-bloggers who serve as Nation editorialists mean by “galumphing” remains obscure, though it could be a reference to the fact that Miss Maddow lives with her lesbian girlfriend, the J. Fred Muggs look-alike Miss Susan Mikula, in Manhattan and Northampton, Massachusetts. Frankly, after all these years one would have thought that gaybashing would be beneath the Nation’s humorists. But hypocrisy is not unknown among American leftists or progressives or latter-day saints or whatever the hell they call themselves.
Actually Miss Maddow and her friend may not even be staying in the United States for long. The mayor of Mount Isa, Queensland, Australia, has urged women of a certain sort to migrate to his remote town in the antipodean outback. Said the plainspoken mayor, Mr. John Moloney, Mount Isa is a town for “ugly ducklings to flourish into beautiful swans.” He called on the “beauty-disadvantaged” to head south and avail themselves to the town’s plastic surgeon and famed practitioner of cosmetic dentistry. How, incidentally, do we know that the toothbrush was invented in remote Mount Isa? Because if it were invented elsewhere it would be called the teethbrush. An old Arkansas joke that, but it bears repeating, and Mayor Moloney’s hick town brings it to mind. Finally, worries that terrorists have weaponized mushroom soup were allayed after investigators for Ryanair determined that a passenger’s violent reaction to the mushroom soup that spilled out of an overhead locker on a Ryanair flight from Budapest to Dublin was dangerous only to him. The wretch is one of a statistically insignificant number of people allergic to mushroom soup. So airline passengers can take their soup with them, albeit in tiny bottles. This crisis is over.