Two times you picked me to be your president. And two times I presidented things the best way I know how. I did what we call in Texas “a real good job”. But now I’m retired, and I will leave it to history to decide if I am more like Abraham Lincoln or Winston Churchill, and then I will wear one of those powdered wigs and be on the million dollar bill. Meantime, I will host these here Golden Winger awards.
I’m Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid. When The Editors asked me to abandon my responsibilities and play second fiddle to an unpopular, corrupt ex-President for this nonsense awards post, I said “No! No! A thousand times no!” For if one does not have principles and the courage of one’s convictions, then one has nothing at all. And that’s the story of how I came to vice-host this awards post. Let’s see some winners.
A man has to fight. But you don’t just fight with your fists or guns or bombs or those giant robots made of robot lions. Sometimes you fight by sitting in safety and saying “bring it on” while other people get blown up and crippled and show up for work. That’s a real good quote. Now I will “bring on” the winner of Chickenhawk of the Year. Heh heh heh. It’s Orson Scott Card:
How long before married people answer the dictators thus: Regardless of law, marriage has only one definition, and any government that attempts to change it is my mortal enemy. I will act to destroy that government and bring it down, so it can be replaced with a government that will respect and support marriage, and help me raise my children in a society where they will expect to marry in their turn.
Biological imperatives trump laws. American government cannot fight against marriage and hope to endure. If the Constitution is defined in such a way as to destroy the privileged position of marriage, it is that insane Constitution, not marriage, that will die.
As a thrilling postscript to this boast, I heard some crickets chirpin’. But just you wait. For the cicadias.
I’ll do this one, too, Popcorn Guy. You look like that TV popcorn guy, so that’s my name for you. I’m pretty clever like that. This award is called the Fluffy, and it’s for appreciating excellence. Usually, the winners would appreciate my excellence, but now that’s history’s job. The winner is Rich Lowry, who I call “Pert Plus”, for seeing Starbursts:
A very wise TV executive [sic] once told me that the key to TV is projecting through the screen. It’s one of the keys to the success of, say, a Bill O’Reilly, who comes through the screen and grabs you by the throat. Palin too projects through the screen like crazy. I’m sure I’m not the only male in America who, when Palin dropped her first wink, sat up a little straighter on the couch and said, “Hey, I think she just winked at me.” And her smile. By the end, when she clearly knew she was doing well, it was so sparkling it was almost mesmerizing. It sent little starbursts through the screen and ricocheting around the living rooms of America. This is a quality that can’t be learned; it’s either something you have or you don’t, and man, she’s got it.
I feel like that about 9/11. I’m not tryin’ to tell history how to do its job, but do you remember how 9/11 happened, and then, later, it didn’t happen? That second part was all me.
The Purple Teardrop with Clutched Pearls Cluster honors those who have had their tiny, precious feelings hurt, especially by unnamed parties, especially on the internets, and extra-especially involving bad words which have certainly never before passed your virginal lips or earholes. The winner is Jonah Goldberg, Noted Scholar, for his complaint that “the white man is the Jew of Liberal Fascism.” Awesome.
The Creamy Baileys No-Bell Peace Prize for Science celebrates outstanding advances in making everybody listen to the time you were watching the ST:TNG box set and pulling hits off the gravity bong and you figured out how Tantric quantum mechanics proves global warming is fake and fuck Al Gore. The winner is Gregg Easterbrook, for reasons I don’t even want to fucking talk about anymore, and who also wins the Matt Millen Award for Theoretical Footballistics.
I’m all about capitulating to whatever the ex-President wants, but some people like to team up to advance some kind of agenda. Different strokes. You can also team up to make unbelieveable fucking assholes out of yourselves, and that is what the Soggy Biscuit is all about. There was a whole lotta circle jerkin’ this election season, but the runaway winner is the “controversy” about Obama’s birth certificate, because seriously. Seriously.
The Golden Winger Award for Wank of the Year is what we call in Texas “a real big deal.” It’s real amazing how many unmemorable phrases you’ve heard a billion times and didn’t care are unique products of texas culture, and I like to share them with you almost as much as I like to share my jokes which aren’t jokes. Heh, heh, heh. The winner is Jonah Goldberg for Liberal Fascism.
When I found out I was nominated for the Coveted Palme d’Haire, celebating a full year’s worth of chafing in service of wankery, I said then and there that, come hell or high water, I would not settle for second place. So I got third place. This is the kind of hard-nosed negotiating position I took when defending Democratic ideals in the Senate, which is why I am so respected. The winner is the amazingly embarrassing and ignorant Sarah Palin, who is sort of like George W. Bush, if George W. Bush was a girl, didn’t spend the first 4 decades of his life shitfaced, and had actually acheived any of his dubious accomplishments himself, rather than just coasting by on his family connections. So, sort of like a much, much more impressive and qualified George W. Bush. Losers as big as the outgoing President only come along once in a lifetime, and I speak for many, many, many prominant and influential Americans when I say how proud I am to have cowered before him for the past eight years. Sarah Palin brings home the trophy this year, but we all wank on.