are being treated to the spectacle of rich and well-bred men pretending to be
bros, sisters, steel workers, farmers, beer-drinking hillbillies, regular
folk, and now, in the case of Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry, a
leather-clad Harley Davidson motorcycle riderĒ
Read About It!
Get it at:
Barnes & Noble
Domrzalski (Dom-zal-ski) is one of the
funniest and most entertaining columnists and authors writing today. He rants
against stupidity, hypocrisy, mediocrity and conformity with a flair,
blue-collar bluntness and hilarity that no one can match. And his targets,
whether theyíre corrupted bureaucrats, blowhard, talentless newspaper
editors, or dim-witted celebrities hate him because he makes them look like
the losers they really are.
The Chicago native has been a newspaper reporter and
columnist for 23 years. His new comic novel, I Got Stinky Feet,
is an insanely funny attack on everything that is phony, pretentious and
politically correct in America.
For more about Domrzalski click on the ďHomeĒ
and ďQ & AĒ buttons on top.
For more columns, click on:
New Mexico for New Mexican losers.
Archives for past columns
Imagine: A middle-aged fat guy
with busted out teeth, a balding head and beer-tinged breath puts on pink
tights and silly looking slippers and prances around on stage in an attempt
to attract hot, young, artsy babes by showing that heís a muscular, but
sensitive, ballet dancer who identifies with and cares deeply about them.
Would the babes pant, rip
off their clothes and rejoice: ďBravo! He is one of us! Let us smother him
with our love?Ē
Or would they shake their
heads in disgust and groan that the guy was a pathetic loser who embarrassed
the entire planet by pretending to be something he wasnít and never could be?
You donít even have think
about it. Itís obvious.
And itís obvious that no
self-respecting beer-drinking fat guy would ever try something so stupid. Nor
would a svelte ballerina ever clad herself in a baggy house coat, put her
hair up in curlers and smear her face with cold cream in an attempt to show
blue-collar guys that she was just like their women. Not unless she was
Or unless she was running
for president of the United States.
Itís the presidential
campaign season again, and us regular Americans are being treated to the
spectacle of rich and well-bred men pretending to be bros, sisters, steel
workers, farmers, beer-drinking hillbillies, regular folk, and now, in the
case of Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry, a leather-clad Harley
Davidson motorcycle rider.
Kerry took presidential
candidate absurdity to a new low the other night when he felt compelled to
make an appearance on the Jay Leno show by driving on stage on Harley. With
his remarkably bad hair in place, Kerry powered the bike on stage to the
cheers of the goofs in the audience.
And undoubtedly to the delight
of his highly-paid campaign handlers who probably figured the stunt showed
their man to be a zany regular guy, a biker dude, and a beer-swilling man of
The act might have made
Kerryís handlers dizzy with visions of the Oval Office, but it made me
cringe. It was one of the more pathetic acts in a long time.
Do Kerry and his expensive
advisers really believe that driving a motorcycle in a crowded building for
TV cameras will cause millions of Americans to exclaim: ďMy God! John Kerry
speaks to me. He is me and I am him! My lifelong dream has been to drive a
motorcycle in a building! I will vote for him this instant.Ē
The truth is, they do
believe that will happen.
And thatís probably one
reason that more people donít vote than do. Americans are sometimes stupid,
but they arenít always dumb. They know that rich guys or gals whoíve spent
years in the Senate and whose daddies or wives were rich enough to buy them
the seats arenít one of them, and never will be.
They know that the John
Kerrys, Howard Deans, Nancy Pelosis and George W. Bushes donít sweat the
bills, donít have several credit cards maxed out, and donít worry where the
money will come from for the next repair bill on the 12-year-old car.
They know those people
arenít slaves to computers and abusive bosses in office cubicles. They know
that the hair-sprayed Republicans and indignant Democrats arenít despairing
over the inability to make it on two salaries. They know those people arenít
worried about being downsized, having their job shipped to China or having a
heart attack just after theyíve lost their health insurance. And they know
that the pols and their advisers arenít worried about whether they can afford
to go anywhere on their measly two weeks vacation.
But the politicians
continue to insult our intelligence by thinking we will actually believe that
theyíre a member of our group, profession or neighborhood because they dress
like us for an hour or so, roll up their shirt sleeves to show their rubbery
arms, munch on a couple of sausages or burritos, and ride onto a TV stage on
a $20,000 motorcycle that most of us canít afford.
And they insult us by
having us believe that they would actually want to be in our positions of
chronic debt, job uncertainty and the means to afford only low-end beer.
As my buddy Phil said,
ďIím in debt up to my ass. I canít bust loose of this dumb job. I havenít
lived my dream. The car is busted. The kids wonít stop screaming. The wife is
a nag. This ainít the way it was supposed to turn out. Anybody who wants to
be like me would be a fool.Ē
Either that or a
Dennis Domrzalski All rights reserved