Since I try to keep clear of current popular culture to the
extent possible, it is sometimes by a roundabout route that I learn of some
stateside trend.
This evening, sampling the excellent offerings of that fine
site Medi1 (a joint Franco-Moroccan venture) I was listening to the following
audio essay:
Bemused at this report of a mass movement centered in the
United States, of which I had been unaware, I clicked around a bit, and learned
that as many as one out of twenty-five voters in these parts believe in the conspiracy theory that
many world leaders are actually extraterrestrial reptiles in disguise. No no -- funny, of course; but the point is, these people believe it. And they are joining the Tea Party, which at the moment
holds the health of the world economy in its Twinkie-stuffing-smeared fingers.
The point here, though, is not to lay yet another charge
(coals to Newcastle) at the door of the Repo troglodytes, but to notice that
(as one further click revealed) a similar psychosis is corroding Canada:
Eves attacked Dalton McGuinty for
voting against a bill to protect taxpayers from increased taxes, when it turns
out McGuinty in fact voted for that bill. Finally, on the Friday of the second
week, the Eves campaign issued a bizarre press release calling Dalton McGuinty
an "evil reptilian kitten-eater from another planet". This moment
would prove the defining moment of the campaign. First, it was so memorable and
unusual that it served to attract the attention of all Ontarians, including
those who do not pay attention to a campaign until its final days. Second, the
over-the-top negativity brought to life a key critique of the Liberals, that
the Harris-Eves Tories picked fights for no reason and went too far. Third, the
hysteria around the comment put the Eves campaign on the defensive in the media
at a critical point and prevented them from regaining their footing after a
difficult week. Fourth, it polarized the election around the PCs and Liberals,
and left the NDP on the sidelines. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the
Eves team was instantly at each other's throats over who would take the blame
for approving the press release.
This meme of insidious shape-shifting reptiles had its birth in science
fiction. But such fantasy
worlds have a way of bleeding into the lives of hapless mother’s-basement-dwelling
masturbators: witness the Star
Wars conventions. The first canny
marketer to realize that one could make big bucks out of such stuff, was sci-fi
penman Ell R*n H*bb*r\d (name touched up a bit to escape the trolling of that
litigious sect), who parlayed his tripe into a scam -- later promoted (for tax
purposes) into a “religion”. And now some humanoid named
(appropriately) Icky (again, modified to thwart the crawling spiderbots) has
turned the reptilian meme into a going and growing concern.
Weep, deeply weep, for the Republic.
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