You’re Darned Right I Am Joe

Dave Burge has the right of it.

Politicians — Sarah Palin, Bill Clinton, et al. — obviously have to put up with some rude, nasty shit, but it’s right there in the jobs description. Joe the Plumber is different. He was a guy tossing a football with his kid in the front yard of his $125,000 house when a politician picked him out as a prop for a 30 second newsbite for the cable news cameras. Joe simply had the temerity to speak truth (or, if you prefer, an uninformed opinion) to power, for which the politico-media axis apparently determined that he must be humiliated, harassed, smashed, destroyed. The viciousness and glee with which they set about the task ought to concern anyone who still cares about citizen participation, and freedom of speech, and all that old crap they taught in Civics class before politics turned into Narrative Deathrace 3000, and Web 2.0 turned into Berlin 1932.0.

Godwin’s Law! you say? if the jackboot fits, wear it.

I am Joe.

I shop at WalMart at least once a week. I take my own car, a Ford Taurus that I bought used, to Jiffy Lube. I’ve lived in the same suburban town all my life and I’m ten minutes away from the house where I grew up. My Sundays consist of two things: church and football. During hunting season my freezer is full of deer meat given to me by my friends who are avid hunters. I’ve been on Jeopardy and consider myself highly-educated, though I don’t have a degree. I’ve worked in a gas station, a hotel, a warehouse, and for most of my adult life, for two different police departments. I fix my own faucets when they leak and unclog my own drains. When I go out to dinner, it’s to Olive Garden or a good burger joint. If you pick a fight with my family or my friends, you’ve picked a fight with me. I roll my own smokes and like a good, cheap cigar from time to time. The wine I prefer doesn’t cost 50 bucks a bottle. It comes from Australia and I’m more likely to drink it with a hamburger as I am a filet mignon. I’ve never ordered “lobster hors d’oeuvres, two whole steamed lobsters, Iranian caviar and champagne” from room service in a hotel. Heck, I’ve never ordered room service from a hotel at all. Though I’ve never been a community organizer, I’ve served on the Board of Directors of two non-profit community musical groups, one of which I helped to start.

I don’t want nor do I need some handout from the Magic Government Fairy. I know better what to do with my money than any bureaucrat in Washington or any socialist goon who believes he was born to “change the world”. I’m sick and tired of people looking down their noses at me and mine because I don’t live the kind of life they believe I should be living. I’m proud to live in a country that threw off that threw off the old class system and says, even today, that you can live your dream if you’re willing to put in the work. I have no intention of letting Barack Obama’s Thugocracy or the media green rooms full of elitist snobs put an end to that “for the common good”.

Come November, I’m thinking that we’re going to find out that there are a lot more Joes out there. They’ve riled us up and, to quote Mal Reynolds, we aim to misbehave.

Little Miss Attila is Joe, too.

Tags: Joe Wurzelbacher