The Democratic Slap Fight

It's like seeing an old friend. More exciting than skydiving strippers with dissolving chutes. Having the Democrats revert to the famous fractious form they sported in the bad old days of the loonie left, I mean. Scratching at each other's eyes like drowning meth addicts scrabbling for the last piece of driftwood visible on a heaving horizon. Kind of comforting to see them finally back to eating their young. A 60s dream. All the joys of an acid flashback with none of the messy chromosome damage.

For a while, they managed to throttle their self- destructive tendencies and maintain the flimsy facade of semi- civilization, what with the whole winning of Congress dealie thing a couple years ago. But right when you thought they might permanently shed their propensity to commit ritual seppuku in public, their two top presidential candidates dug deep into the communal Party storage shed, pulled the Circular Firing Squad Machine out from under the purple paisley poncho and began shooting each other's knees off at the very first sight of a blinking red camera light.

And yes, I'm talking about the most recent televised debate, or more accurately, candidate slap fight, that preceded this weekend's South Carolina Primary. What some are calling "the Gurgle in Myrtle." Admittedly, that "some" consists mostly of me. But everyone does heartily agree it was a slam- bang Smack Down with gloves removed and swinging roundhouses weighted with brass knuckles.

First Hillary Clinton accused Barack Obama of saying nice things about Ronald Reagan, which is the most heinous sin a Democrat could commit outside of peeing on George Bush if he were on fire. Uncle Ron will neither be forgotten, nor forgiven for busting a cap into the electoral backside of Saint Jimmy thereby plunging the Democratic Party into 12 years of wandering in the wilderness of irrelevance. Flashing an unknown mettle by responding in kind, the Junior Senator from Illinois indicted Her Hillaryness for serving on the corporate board of Wal-Mart, which for any liberal worth their ACLU card, is like getting sprayed with a fine patina of evil anti-union juice.

The two studiously ignored John Edwards like he was a chip in the paint on the side of the limo that drove them from the airport where their private jets idled ready to take them to another city in a more important state as soon as their face time was through here. But the Not- So- Bashful- Breck- Boy shouldered his way into the prime time act by kicking whichever of the two front- runners he deemed to be down at the time. This guy is such an opportunist, I wouldn't be surprised to find he has finagled the rights to a series of snowball kiosks in hell. It's one thing to be a lawyer. It's another thing to always act like one.

All this went down on the same day our country celebrated the birthday of Martin Luther King Jr. You know, the guy known for his big non-violence agenda? This is how we honor the man who sacrificed his life to preach peace and civility? Thank god there's no holiday to celebrate the birth of Gandhi, or they might go on national television and beat each other into submission with baseball bats fashioned out of raw beef. Stay tuned, because it's only a matter of time before something just as wacky goes down.