moms and young bucks buying T-bone steaks simply is not a magic bullet
anymore. It works with white southerners and it works with Chris
Matthews’ cranky uncle. But the Republican party has already maxed out
with that demographic. Unless they can improve their standing with
women, Latinos, and younger voters, they’re screwed.Obviously,
attacking a Latino woman for being a Latino woman will hurt politically
with Latinos and women. And younger voters don’t hear 40 year-old dog
whistles that well.
I think they hear them just fine, I don’t think they give a fuck, is all. The younger-than-40 set has seen firsthand how well that shit worked out for our parents: Their pension plans and retirement accounts are gone despite a lifetime of hard work and promises kept, their lives were fraught with racial and religious and sexual tensions over the rightful place of the minorities and the chicks, and all they’ve got to show for it is a worn-out Barcalounger and a prescription for Xanax.
I mean, for fuck’s sake, I don’t even bother arguing with Republican dickheads my parents’ age anymore because they’ve already pretty demonstrably lost everything and rubbing it in just tires me out. Are you better off now than you were eight years ago? Are you better off now than you were 30 years ago? Is your house worth more? Do you have any hope that your grandkids will go to college the way you did, without it bankrupting your children? Is the factory down the street still open? How many people work there, as many as before? There’s only so much you can lay at the feet of girls and Mexicans and we’re over here going, yeah, yeah, yeah, gimme a job, gramps.
I will say this for the younger generation: Those kids my sister’s age and younger who I know are relentlessly practical, infuriatingly so in fact. How will this help me? How will this benefit the life I want to live? It ain’t that nobody’s studying philosophy and Latin grammar anymore, but everybody I know in his or her twenties has not just one plan but several contingencies and ain’t none of them involve going to a tea party rally to yell about government hating the Baby Jesus. The freaks who do show up there are the exceptions; the rules are at their second jobs trying to pay their own way through college or fucking high school because Dad just got laid off.
The dog whistles come through loud and clear, and there’s always that moment of temptation, because wouldn’t it be nice if it was all somebody else’s fault that we’re not king of the world, somebody powerless we didn’t have to worry about kicking? But then the phone rings and it’s the bill collectors again and that drowns out that dog whistle good.