Atlanta’s Dad’s Garage is doing an evening of short pieces inspired by They Might Be Giants opus, “Fingertips.” Below is a trailer for the show, which is as cool as Dad’s Garage. My segment is number 19 from the 21-segmented song, also known as “I’m Having A Heart Attack.” If you’re in Atlanta, come see it!
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Watching this man carefully weave through the construction work, I knew I should be generous toward him and his sticker. The election is long over, my guy won, and we should all try hard to be gracious in victory. But I found myself stuck on that sticker.
The thing of it was, I couldn’t muster up any ill will for the man driving the car. His sad little bumper sticker is no match for the march of firm if incremental reform initiated by the Obama administration. And I have to admire a guy who, this deep into Obama’s first term, is still holding fast to that bumper sticker, his personal feeble protest against what I’m sure he feels is the degradation of all things good and decent in America. And this being a notoriously liberal college town makes his bumper sticker all the more ineffectual and poignant. (How liberal is my town? Let’s just say that Dennis Kucinich did very well here.)
So. No hard feelings toward Caprice Classic Guy. But I did start to wonder about the maker of that bumper sticker. Who made it? Who sold it? And why?
Let’s give everybody the benefit of the doubt. Let’s say that it was not a crass attempt to cash in on the religious right’s ignorance and fear over their impending domination by a mixed race, accused Muslim with sketchy terrorist pals and a penchant for socialism, who, let’s face it, wasn’t even born here. No. Whatever the sticker maker’s misguided ideas about Obama, let’s assume that he or she made it in good faith. The making of the sticker was an attempt to connect with other concerned citizens, to advertise this group’s clear concern. Let’s even assume that the maker hoped to change a few minds here and there, or at least get people to think twice about Barack Obama. Isn’t that the point of political speech, to register your opinion with the world and bring people over to your side?
But here’s my problem with it. It’s a terrible marketing campaign.
Let’s leave aside the fact that Obama is an avowed and baptized Christian, and therefore the bumper sticker makes no logical sense. And let’s also leave aside the debatable question as to whether America is indeed a Christian nation, or even if a Christian nation is something we would actually want.
But what really gets me is the whole thing turns on a stupid pun.
“Christian nation, not Obama nation.” We’re supposed to read Obama Nation and think, Abomination. That’s the point. That’s why it’s un-Christian. Obama Nation, Abomination, ha, ha, ha.
But it doesn’t work that way. I don’t know about you, my heathen audience, but when I see the words “Obama Nation,” I don’t think, Abomination. Mostly because I never think, Abomination. I don’t use the word. I don’t think I’ve ever called anything an Abomination in my life. It just hasn’t occurred to me.
Now, here’s a piece of trivia: I have actually been called an abomination. Mostly because I wrote a musical about a pedophile and some people mistrusted my motives. But I think it’s important to note in that instance nobody called my play or me “abominable.” They went straight for the noun: My play and I together were an Abomination.
And when that happened, I thought, “Wow. They’re setting the bar pretty low.” I mean, even on my lowest self-esteem days, I’d never figured myself for an abomination. An abomination is not just something disgusting or loathed, it’s something that is fundamentally unclean, a sin against God. The person who called me an abomination would catapult me right up there with gays, shellfish and poly-cotton blends. That’s quite an accomplishment for merely writing a play that maybe a thousand people have ever seen.
So if that’s the standard for abominations these days, no wonder the Christian right is in such a tizzy. Abominations abound! If I can be an abomination just for writing a play about sex abuse, then my friend Michael, who I happen to know had a three-way in college, definitely qualifies. My dog piddled on the carpet this morning. Is that an abomination? It’s certainly unclean.
And so it follows that Obama must be an abomination. Since Mr. Obama is superior to me in virtually all ways – more athletic, more ambitious, definitely smarter – then he must therefore also be a superior abomination.
But I don’t think the average driver in traffic would make that leap from a bumper sticker. If the word abomination isn’t floating around in your head already, I doubt you could get there by reading the phrase Obama Nation. If anything, a casual observer might think you’re equating Obama Nation with Christian Nation, since they’re both in big red letters.
You see? This approach is backfiring like a poorly maintained Caprice Classic.
This is why they lost the election. That, and our guy is just so awesome. Wherein I tell a made-up story about, among other things, lavender and yellow crepe paper.
Excerpt:The first time my heart stopped, I was twelve years old at my cousin’s wedding. The reception was held in this postal union hall, only my aunts had done everything over in lavender and yellow crepe paper. They had a D.J. of course – there’s no such thing as a wedding band in Iowa. The D.J. was my cousin Kenny, fifteen years old, awkward, pimply, really into stereo equipment and computers. His mother had recently been sent to prison for drug and parole violations, and so everybody was trying to give Kenny something constructive to do, you know, show him another path to take besides his mother’s. Click on the “play” button below to hear more!Wherein I debate changing my name to a man’s name to help my career. Here’s a fun drinking game: Do a shot every time you hear me use the word, “insouciant.” Excerpt:I’m thinking of changing my name. There’s been a lot of talk in recent years about women playwrights. Somebody did a study a while back and discovered that even though women make up half the graduates of playwriting programs across the country, only something like 10 percent of new play productions are going to women playwrights. Or something like that – I can’t remember the exact numbers, probably because I’m a girl and girls are stupid.
THIS EPISODE IS ABOUT: Coming up with the name for my podcast. Hence the title. More soon! …and the third and final video clip from my show, Hillary Clinton Got Me Pregnant. Enjoy! Here’s the second video from my solo show, Hillary Clinton Got Me Pregnant. Here’s the first of three video clips from my latest one-chick show, Hillary Clinton Got Me Pregnant. Coming soon: A brand spankin’ new website from MG. Hold on….! To tide you over:
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