Wedding Bell Blues - Democratic Underground

NanceGreggs

(1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore

Thu Aug-06-09 12:04 AM
Original message

Wedding Bell Blues

Edited on Thu Aug-06-09 12:16 AM by NanceGreggs

We’ve all been there.

You’re invited to a family wedding, and you know that your Crazy Aunt Clara and Wacky Cousin Chester are going to be in attendance.

It happens in the best of families. There are certain relatives from both sides of the aisle – bride’s and groom’s – who are going to be included on the guest list, lest feelings be hurt, feuds ensue after-the-fact over their exclusion, or wills bequeathing a dozen pickle jars full of pre-WWII dimes be changed in a fit of pique.

The usual way of dealing with said situation is the scatter method, placing Loony Louie at a table full of teenagers who won’t let him get a nutty word in edgewise; seating Frank the Foul-mouthed next to Aunt Florrie B. Good, the Fundie relative sure to shout ‘im down with recitations of the Bible, if and when he gets going on one of his diatribes.

This method has been used for decades – well, probably centuries – and because both the groom’s and the bride’s families usually have an equal number of embarrassing yahoos to hide, the saner guests are free to simply pretend they aren’t there.

However, it seems that since the unfortunate pairing of John and Sarah in last year’s election campaign, the unthinkable has happened. All of the sane family members have sent their regrets, leaving only the truly certifiable dregs to attend what’s left of a reception now celebrating not a marriage, but a familial meltdown of mammoth proportions.

The GOP can no longer hide the cavalcade of crazies that used to be banished to tables safely tucked behind potted plants, nor can they drown-out the voices of the vitriolic or the truly vacuous. Let’s face it, folks; when your guest list consists of only inmates, the asylum is going to get LOUD AND RACCOUS – thereby garnering a lot of unwanted attention.

And it has. And it ain’t purdy.

Cousin-Fifteen-Times-Removed Orly is passing out birth certificates with every piece of wedding cake – “No, no, not zat one, darlink – that’s the fake one. Let me give you ze real one – yes, that’s the authentic one zo far this week.”

Uncle Lou “The Loon” Dobbs grabs the emcee’s mic, insistent the band accompany him on Birther of the Blues – complete with disco-ball and lights, so as to keep the audience dazzled by shiny objects.

Auntie Sarah leads a rousing rendition of the ever-popular “Chicken Dance” – knowing that if she can get an entire crowd of idiots out on the dancefloor with her, she might just look a bit less dazed and confused herself.

Family raconteur Bill O’Reilly has drawn a crowd, regaling his listeners with tales of the evils of “socialized medicine” – displaying all the responsibility of a scoutmaster scaring the bejesus out of a bunch of vulnerable kids by telling ghost stories around a campfire, and all the credibility of Cliff Claven discussing his latest sexual conquest.

Uncle “Rush-the-Gush” Limbaugh is spewing, as usual, while downing as much food as a Third World nation consumes on an annual basis. And Michele Bachman demonstrates her now-famous deer caught in the headlights look as Cousin “Chucky” Grassley entertains onlookers with his “Dragons in Our Midst” slide show (good thing the progressive thinkers on the guest list remembered to bring the overhead projector and the mimeographed follow-along notes!)

It could be said that a good time was had by all. But the truth is it’s not such a good time for the Republicans these days – far from it. The once powerful Grand Old Party is now just down to being “a party” – and one that not too many people are interested in attending.

The lunatic fringe that was once relegated to the shadows of the stage are now running the show – and ticket sales are dropping with an audible clunk, the uncomfortable sound of an 8-track tape flipping over to the B side in mid-song, the hollow sound of an empty theatre where no one wants to see ”Reefer Madness” presented as a documentary rather than a side-splitting cult classic.

So long, Republican Party, it was nice knowing you – well, actually, it wasn’t. It was never anything less than a pain in the ass. But I thought I’d be magnanimous – now that you’re going the way of the dodo bird, soon to be extinct.

As for the whackos at the wedding reception – well, they can still look forward to that moment when the bouquet gets tossed to the next potential bride – and hope the least objectionable among them catches it – if such a creature still exists.

EDIT NOTE: I edited the above when it was pointed out to me that there is only one "L" in Michele Bachman's name. I should have known that - because she's always struck me as at least one "L" short of a load.