With membership numbers declining almost as fast as the DNC’s ability to cover up an ever more credible and escalating list of treason, child sex trafficking, election rigging, illegal weapons dealing, money laundering and drug running charges, it appears that Party Democrats have once again come looking for their lost souls. Ignoring all rational or informed counsel and avoiding any data or suggestions not generated through outdated and amoral psy-ops, or taken directly from the “How to Lose an Election and Kill your Party Guide”, the 21% of America’s voters still swallowing the HillBillary Bunch’s bitter-poison cocktail have again tired of using Independent Vermont Senator, Bernie Sanders to try and locate their own.
To the seriously limited extent that Democrats would know or recognize a progressive soul if they saw one, yesterday, Salon writer ANNA MARCH momentarily emerged from a thinly veiled collective group-think hallucination to observe with overstated aplomb that Vermont Senator, Bernie Sanders, is not really a Democrat. Proceeding like a manic, drunken media flunky with the skill level of a journalism wannabe who failed critical thinking, March informs her fellow bubble-mates that the DNC need not look for its soul. Its soul is right there in its platform and its voters, not in Sanders. Boy, I’ll say.
Mired in already suffocating piles of “steaming, rotting neoliberal bullshit,” March takes in a deep gulp, ignores months of blaring sirens and blazing warning lights and gleefully dives right in. Gasping for air, bloated with corporate money, and weighted down with months of abusive chat bots and paid attack trolls, she insists that the gurgling sounds we hear are not a quickly manifesting and ominous DNC death-rattle. She scoffs at the suggestion that any of this is the drowning Party’s last fading cry for help. “He’s wrong about economic populism!” He “routinely demonstrates his own lack of progressive values by dividing them.” “He divides us by race and gender!” Clearly oxygen deprived now, the deluded, near-death HillBot meanderings keep spinning out of control. Screaming “race and gender and class cannot be untwined” the words coming out start slurring; “white-male dog-whistle rhetoric!” she yells; and finally, she mutters something about “the great white male,” before sinking back into the ooze.
March and the DNC remain comfortably oblivious that the life boats containing the last hope for their souls have now left them behind. Continuing in the delusion, and ignoring last week’s polls showing 75% of the surviving voting passengers have left for good, March is sure they’ll come to their senses and be back to reboard with their hats in their hands. She’s certain those boats will be on the horizon any day now. She joins Podesta and Mook and Perez and Brazile and Wasserman-Schultz on the flooding Lido deck where together, they impotently shake their fists at the people in the lifeboats and the seagulls in the sky. The seagulls must be Russian.
They say that right before you die, you get to see your life in retrospect – the highs, the lows, and the harbors that gave sanctuary to your soul. Perhaps remnants of honor and memories of love and dignity are still in there somewhere at the DNC. Perhaps they’re just brief shadows of decency flickering at them from the remaining splinters and shards. Still, I don’t think the DNC has completely forgotten. March, waxing nostalgic about how inclusion translates into economic advancement and hinting that clearly jettisoned morals and veneer-like principles can somehow still be applied or even claimed, brings hope that at least there may still be memories.
Maybe the memories of betraying your brothers and your sisters for greed and lust, money and power will fade. Maybe those thoughts about smearing Senator Sanders and slandering him while you use him to seduce more dupes and claim his credentials as your own are already gone. Or maybe the reality of your betrayals and the death and destruction you’ve willingly sanctioned, promoted and carried out in undeclared wars – maybe your memories about raping and murdering and plundering far away peoples – children and helpless souls on oil-rich lands – will survive through the smoke and the mirrors and the cheap trick Party-provided side shows meant to salve your conscience and lessen your guilt. Maybe, as it seems to be with writers and DNC loyalists like March, they never existed at all.
Maybe you recognize it when you see it – your lost soul. Maybe that’s why March is so angry – maybe she can’t see that the DNC’s soul is really gone because she’s so busy recognizing it across the room in Bernie. Maybe the hollow echoing halls at the DNC remind her a little too clearly about what’s missing now. Judging from March’s essay, boat loads and car loads and auditorium loads of true Bernie Sanders Progressives could not now revive what she and her wanton chortling cohorts have so gleefully killed. Judging from March’s evident view, kindness, truth, honest work and honorable values have also perished at the DNC, but truthfully, after reading this essay, it’s really okay. There’s a new 75% approval rating for Bernie among Republicans, Independents and Progressives, and together, millions of people with souls still intact, are now loaded up on the lifeboats, and rowing forward without Ms. March, and most definitely without the DNC. Nick Brana, Dr. Cornell West, and millions of others are waiting on the other shore. And brothers and sisters of the new People’s Party now forming at DraftBernie.org, – baby, have We got SOUL!