If I Could Just Touch the Hem of Her Garment, I Know I’d Be Healed
When Victoria Jackson kept displaying a brand of insanity that’s weird and disturbing even relative to her Big Hollywood cohorts, I had sort of assumed, perhaps naively, that John Nolte would eventually just change her login password and stop answering her emails.
I don’t respect much about Nolte’s writing or editing, but it can at least be said about him that he takes conservatism seriously, and wants to advance its interests. So I’d thought a sideshow hot mess like Jackson would eventually get cut out, if for no other reason than that she makes them all look fucking crazy.
Silly Blucas, what were you thinking? This is the far-right, where one can only fail upward, so of course Victoria Jackson’s joined up with the Tea Party Express, and has been traveling the country on the GOP’s dime. Being a low-level GOP-shill has its advantages, of course, one of which is the ability to come within poking distance of Sarah Palin:
Happy mayhem surrounds Sarah Palin. Pushing, snapping, hugging. I couldn’t get near her if I tried, so I just stood in the back watching the circus. At one point, I couldn’t resist, while she was signing Ron Rivoli’s guitar, I reached out my arm through the crowd and touched her red jacket with my finger!
There is, in fact, PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE of Jackson’s creepy-subway-groper behavior:
Uhhhh, that’s her, in back left next to the bumper sticker, straining her neck to get into the shot.
But hey, we all have celebrities we’d spaz out over if we got to attend something like this with them, so I won’t make fun of her too much over this. And if this were a dorky “ZOMG SARAH!!! DRILL BABY DRILL!! DRILL THOSE COMMUNITY ORGANIZERS RIGHT IN THE FACE!!!” bit by Jackson, I probably wouldn’t have posted about it. It’s the weird, out-of-nowhere detour about race that really makes it awesome:
There were a few protesters on the outskirts of our rallies, but I only saw one up close. In Albany, NY standing next to a statue of George Washington was an angry black woman holding a sign that said, “Yes, We Can.” She looked very angry. The media was on her like flies. They got shots of our Tea Party crowd with her in the foreground. I was asked to pose next to her for a group shot. I kept glancing at her face. It takes a lot of energy to keep a frown that long. Finally, I asked her, “Why are you so angry?” She whipped her head around, her eyes on fire with hate, and snarled, “Don’t talk to me, Whitey.” I walked away slowly, wondering why she was so mad at me.
I suspect she doesn’t like white people.
I used to think that black people didn’t like me because of the slavery thing a hundred years ago. But, I just learned from Lloyd Marcus’ book “Confessions of a Black Conservative” that blacks are taught since the day they are born that “Whitey is keeping them down.” No wonder why she hates me. She doesn’t know it is a Liberal lie.
Now, while I do think that “Don’t talk to me, Whitey,” is a perfectly reasonable, measured response to being approached by Victoria Jackson, I’ll eat my hat if this woman actually said “Whitey.” Do black people even say that anymore? I’m pretty sure Victoria Jackson is getting reality confused with bad movies from the ’70s again.
In Lloyd Marcus’ book he talks about growing up in the “projects.” He says that his family moved into a brand new building that within two years was filthy and dangerous. Lloyd says, “All I kept hearing from the majority of adults was that everything was the ‘white man’s fault.’ Even at the tender age of nine, I sarcastically thought to myself, ‘How can we stop these evil white people from sneaking in here at night, peeing in the stairwell, leaving broken wine bottles on the ground, smashing the light bulbs, and attacking people.’”
He explains that the “liberal cradle-to-grave government dependency programs kill incentive and ultimately hurt people. Meanwhile, Conservatism is branded as mean and heartless. What is ultimately heartless is an ideology that enslaves people in a system that rewards sloth and discourages achievement.”
Lloyd continues to explain that he has “witnessed the devastating effect of liberalism in his own family.” He writes, “My forty-something drug addicted cousin is a serial ‘impregnator’ with several out of wedlock children. And yet, he enjoys a new townhouse, food stamps, free health care, and methadone all funded by working taxpayers. In essence, the government is enabling and funding my cousin’s irresponsible life-style.”
So Jackson-by-way-of-Marcus’s argument is that black people simplistically blame white people for all the problems in their community when they should be… simplistically blaming liberals? Awesome. Way to break the cycle.
I know nothing about Marcus, but that weird detour about his cousin has me thinking he’s got to be playing white conservatives. “Yes, we are all related, and we are all deadbeat welfare queens! I can say so ’cause I’m black! Just give me a book deal and you can quote me whenever you want to be racist, and no one will be able to call you on it!”
Jackson’s not done, though, and proceeds to post a picture of her “teenage daughter.. on the front of the bus flirting with David, a black teenager.” Welcome to post-racial America, Victoria Jackson’s daughter, where your mother will post a completely unflattering photo of you sitting next to a hot black guy, with your mouth hanging open, in order to prove she’s not racist! This might help.
Apparently, though, the simple beauty of young love in first blossom is not enough to quiet Jackson’s rage:
His black father William is sitting near me sleeping. Reporter Richie keeps bringing up the race thing, for over an hour. Finally, I explode, “The President is a Racist! The “police acted stupidly” comment Obama made about the Crowley-Gates affair was the most racist thing I have heard in a long time. And shame on the President for purposefully stirring up racial conflict! It popped out of his mouth at the end of a health care speech when he was off Teleprompter! Oops! His Jeremiah Wright training leaking out!” I immediately realized I’d given the NBC guy the fodder he was after. I was caught in a tired moment and I didn’t even have my make-up on. Well… Obama is a racist, but I don’t want to be involved in childish tit-for-tat whining.
I just want my country to be FREE.
Now, even if you didn’t like the “police acted stupidly” thing, and thought it was knee-jerk or irresponsible or whatever, how is it racist, unless you think a black guy criticizing a white guy is inherently racist? And even if you think Gates contributed to the situation or escalated it, and/or you think Crowley made an honest mistake, he clearly wasn’t, you know, right.
You gotta love how she’s going to prove she’s not racist by going off on an incoherent rant, immediately namechecking Gates and Wright. I thought this thing was about taxes?
All of Jackson’s tribulations at the hands of scaaaarrry black people were worth it, though:
In Boston, after I had touched Sarah’s jacket with my finger, I had gone back to watching her talk to her fans when suddenly Sarah had turned around and our eyes met. She did a double take and said, “Oh! I love you!” She hugged me and then she said, “Thanks for all you’re doing. I want your autograph!”
For the rest of the day I was speechless with a dumb grin on my face…
Just the rest of the day?