I was going to write a Dear John letter. It would have made reference to the scene in Finnegans Wake in which the dead man, splashed with a bit of libation, awakes, and it takes all the persuading of all the assembled to get him to resume the appropriate attitude of death.
Cut it out. Look, you sent this email to a few million of your closest disillusioned fellow citizens on Feb. 10. Yesterday you sent another urgent one about Tammy Duckworth and her missing legs. This shit doesn't work, ok? I am confident I will receive a whole bunch more of these, spaced out in your handlers' calibrated effort at randomized timing. They will all look the same, and carry the same contribution button. Other than that, each will automate some just-in-time news hook that appears to desperately need the collective immediate attention of the entire Blue State
populace to turn the tide, buck the system, drop a dime, give 'em what for, whatever.
It's all of a piece with the cadaverous animatronic way you talk. You, John. Not that your talking is bad. You can for instance actually compose sentences, paragraphs, mini-essays, entire tomes on the fly. You have a way of ordering and contextualizing arguments that says "Senator from Massachussetts." And it's not just that Massachussetts comes after Tobago on the list of places that have mastered the USian vernacular. What's appalling-er is that in your campaign, your clear communicative superiority over Mr. Bush made no difference. You may have permanently reduced the political attribute of public speaking, the whole communicational shebang of Aristotelian Rhetoric, to a non-essential item. If The Aphasia King could beat you, one reasons, who needs Reason?
Only, it's worst than that. Though dead, you persist in using some PR firm that has no idea of what support entails. If you were really het up about Cheney as your letter
of 20 or so days ago intimated, why have we heard nothing more about it? Did The Menace to All Quail scare you with his marksmanship?
John, you probably even care. Your representation of caring is a tired, achingly dull routine. Care
, packaged in method-acted messages cranked out by the numbers, is careless. Negligent of occasion
, the contingencies, conditions and audiences attendant upon the moment of speaking. Maybe it used to work, and now it doesn't. The fact that you and your party haven't noticed is a sign of your political currency. A vital