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Posts Tagged ‘Victoria Jackson

If I Could Just Touch the Hem of Her Garment, I Know I’d Be Healed

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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?


Written by dieblucasdie

April 26, 2010 at 2:31 pm

Finished With My Woman ‘Cause She Couldn’t Help Me With My Mind

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Victoria Jackson with her Eurovision entry for this year:

It seems these days
I’m in a haze,
And I can’t concentrate on things,
Don’t eat or sleep,
Feel incomplete,
And kinda scared and creepy.

I look over my shoulder lots
And shudder when I watch TV.
I bite my nails and cuticles
And watch my words very carefully.
I bite my lip a lot
And fidget with the buttons on my blouse.

I’m jittery, my teeth I grate
I twitch, I shake, I ruminate
Lately I’m perplexed and pinched
In pain, I pout and ponder.

Why aren’t people shocked or something,
Why aren’t people up in arms?
Does anyone read history?
Or see red flags, or hear alarms?
The streets are filled with deaf and dumb
As I squeal like a mouse,

My husband really misses me.
My parents think I’ve gone crazy.
Only Glenn Beck understands me,
And, of course, Sean Hannity.
But, it seems, besides us three,
And the nice people who drink the Tea,
There’s no one else who can see

Maybe I have lost my mind,
Or have been drugged by some narcotic.
Maybe I’m watching a movie called 1984
Or maybe I am just psychotic.
If I’m in a dream, fast asleep
I guess I will just try to keep
My eyes shut ’til this goes away
And I awake to a happier day
When my ukulele does not play
This dire song of distress and dismay

What I love about Jackson is how completely unconcerned she is with actual politics.  She doesn’t care about policy, she doesn’t care about the crass horse-race mechanics, she doesn’t even really care about half-baked conspiracy theories.  Her entire engagement with the political sphere begins and ends with some guys on the TV telling her to be afraid, so she’s afraid.  There’s zero political content in the above; it’s all about her fear.

She is like a parody of a parody of a Michael Moore strawman.  It’s pretty startling and saddening that someone like her actually exists.  If I were John Nolte I’d be embarrassed.

(Sarcastic Smile. Eyes Roll.)

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Victoria Jackson comin at ya with one of the least vital “what if…” scenarios ever posited: “If I Were a Guest on the New Joy Behar Show.”

(Applause. The air is titillating.  The mood rambunctious.  The atmosphere tense.  Over the loud speaker we hear, “3, 2, 1 and …”)

Yeah, this is a regular fucking Frost/Nixon situation, here.  I’m sure the bored tourists who get lured into Behar’s audience with the promise of free Starbucks would be shaky at the prospect of witnessing a moment of such world-historical import.

Joy: Hello, Victoria.  So, I hear you’re a Tea Partier!  (Sarcastic smile.  Eyes roll.)

Victoria: Oh, well…

Joy: I suppose you like Sarah Palin!  (Sarcastic smile.  Eyes roll.)

Victoria: Oh, well, I love her, she is so…

Joy: She is so dumb!  (Sarcastic smile.  Eyes roll.)

Victoria: No, I don’t think that…

Joy: Just like George Bush.  He was an idiot!  (Sarcastic smile.  Eyes roll.)

Victoria: Oh, no…he protected…

Ah!  Poor Victoria!  The free-thinking stalwart is unable to impart reasoned positions  like  “I love Sarah Palin!” against such a tide of invective and ad hominem!  Whither civil discourse?

Joy: Ha, ha!  So, I suppose you aren’t a big fan of President Obama!

Victoria: Uh, …Tort Reform.

Joy: Because he is so charismatic, and well spoken and sexy…

Victoria: Tort Reform?!

Joy: And his wife’s arms!!  So you don’t like his Health Care Plan because you are a racist?!

Victoria: Tort Reform.

Is Jackson satirizing herself, here?  Because, I mean, I totally buy that after 15 seconds of conversation she’d be shouting random talking points.  And while Behar’s certainly no bastion of nuanced debate, but her lines here reek of projection.  Her exchanges with Hasselbeck were always two-sided lowest-common-denominator partisan shouting matches, and I doubt Jackson’s ever let someone shout her down without giving it back.  It’s really interesting how the besieged conservative true believer image is more apparent to her than her own personality.

Joy: See?  You are.  You didn’t vote for him, did you?!

Victoria: Um… huge tax increase, insured illegals, rationed and low quality health care, lack of doctors, tax funded abortions, collapse of the middle class, death of freedom,  Cap ‘n Trade/Tax – Bad, Marxist agenda…

Joy: You don’t just play a ditz on TV!  You are a ditz!  We’ll be right back after this commercial.

(Hair and Makeup come to the set and tidy up the middle aged faces.)

Joy: So, we’re back with Victoria who does not have a show, and I do!  So…why do you hate Obama?!

Victoria: Well, I don’t hate anyone, I’m just concerned about our country becoming…

Joy: He is such a good speaker!

Victoria: … Communist.  Van Jones was not an accident.  The safe schools’ czar, Kevin Jennings has a gay agenda for our innocent children.  Socialized medicine does not work…

Joy: (To camera) You see?  I can’t even have one conservative on my show until they start yelling, and cursing, and bitching!  What is it with you people?!  You are so full of HATE!  Remind me, never to have these stupid A–holes on my show again!  (To producer off stage)  Get me Janeane Garofalo!  She is a genius!  Jesus!

Victoria: How can you take Jesus’ name in vain if you are Catholic?

Joy: What?  Oi Vey!  I’m not even Jewish!  I’m gonna puke!  Take me to a commercial!  Save me!

(Applause and fade to commercial

Does no one care about the DEATH OF FREEDOM?  You know going in that this type of piece is going to have a moment where Jackson cuts through the liberal! media! bullshit! and speaks truth to, uh, well not power, but a daytime talk show audience.

What I love though, is that, in Jackson’s case, the big reveal is just a stream of random words and names that makes no sense unless (like me) you read third-tier conservative blogs every day.

And I’m genuinely confused by the closing religious dig at Behar.  Is she actually Catholic or Jewish?  Is she ripping on Behar for converting?  Or are the mixed exclamations just supposed to be signs of her general dishonesty? Even I have too much pride to go to Behar’s Wikipedia page.

Also, Andrew Breitbart: Mall Cop would like to go on record as having a strong editorial stance in favor of a gay agenda for our innocent schoolchildren.

Written by dieblucasdie

October 20, 2009 at 4:47 pm

Victoria Jackson Wants You to Stop Snitching

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I haven’t covered any of washed-up-even-by-ex-SNLer-standards comedienne Victoria Jackson’s posts on Big Hollywood yet, mainly because, politics aside, they just don’t make any goddamn sense.  My bread-and-butter is pieces that compare Republican politicians to sci-fi characters, or discuss the religious significance of teen popstars.  What the fuck am I supposed to do with something like this?

I’m doing standup in Denver. Shelley is driving me from radio to radio to TV as I do the monkey dance at each station promoting the show, selling tickets. I don’t like this part of the job. I must answer the same 10 questions about Saturday Night Live and try to explain where I’ve been for the last fifteen years. All the DJ’s want are some juicy stories about celebrities. I don’t really have that many. I’m booked at two political talk stations, a rock station, a country station, and two local TV shows.  I guess that’s my demographic! Everyone! I ask Shelley why I’m booked on the political stations. She shrugs, “Well, we didn’t really know…isn’t that what you are doing now?” The first stop I’m told is a “just right of center” show, so I feel free to share my newest shocking information that the White House is asking us to “snitch’” on our friends and family. To report anything “fishy.” This news is so abhorrent to me that I could barely sleep the night before. I immediately emailed Andrew Breitbart to see if it was true. He said yes. I searched the hotel computer web to see if the big shots, the smart people have gotten on this. They were just starting to fight back. The news was so new. Well, at least this administration is entertaining…in a bad way. I’m watching a horror movie every day.

It’s like Meghan McCain tried recreate On the Road after smoking some weed she didn’t realize was laced with PCP.  I feel weird just doing a straight-up refutation of some of the linkless claims she makes (why check the newswire when you can just send an e-mail to Andrew Breitbart!), but here goes nothing.  The “snitch” program is, unsurprisingly, nothing of the sort.  What the White House did is ask people to send in misinformation being spread about Health Care, so they can debunk it on their website, something Obama’s been doing on various issues since the early days of his campaign.  That’s it.  They didn’t ask for names, and no one is collecting names.

This doesn’t stop Jackson from freaking the fuck out, though, imagining the government death squads coming for her.  Seriously:

I scour the internet and find that the conservative big shots are now fully engaged in this battle against our government.  I send in two emails to I figure I’m already on their “list.” One of my emails says, “Is this a joke?”  One says, “How dare you attack our Freedom of Speech!  Stop the Snitch Program!  It’s illegal!” So, you see, I’m really, really on their “list.”   I’m wondering what will happen to the people on “the list.”  Audit? Jail? Death?  I’m starting to feel exactly the same as the Soviets and the Cubans.  I now understand perfectly why they risked their lives heading to Miami on rafts. The fear is palpable.  The invisible oppression of being watched.  The White House is trying to intimidate my fellow Americans from speaking out, from asking questions about this Socialized Medicine.  Nancy Pelosi is on TV saying we wear swastikas! What planet is she from?  It’s all a jumble of anger and fear and lies. My country.

Well, you know, they did display swastikas at the protests/rallies Pelosi was talking about.  And maybe Jackson’s just angry that Obama isn’t starting a REAL snitch program.  In any case, I think it’s safe to say that only “list” Jackson likely landed herself on is the spam filter.

I don’t want to quote the full piece here, so I’ll let you, gentle reader, click through and discover the bizarre middle-section involving Weird Al, Jessica Hahn, and Kurt Cobain for yourself.  And the great bit where she shifts gears to talk about Gatesgate and how she loves all cops.  Yes, right after complaining about the government watching her, she espouses her love for cops.

I’ll just leave you with this:

Onstage, I try out a new song, “White Men,” dedicated to Sonja [sic] Sotomayer [sic].  One audience loves it.  One is completely silent.  I decide to skip the song for the rest of the shows.  After the show, one lady comes up to me and grasps my hand in both of hers.  She whispers, “Thank you so much for speaking up, about our country.”  Her eyes look deep into mine. I feel like we have both scratched the fish symbol into the sand, during the Roman Empire times. The fall of the Roman Empire.

And point out that A) cultural conservatism as religion, that’s some creepy-ass shit right there and B) I’m no historian, but the Christians definitely did not bring down the Roman Empire.  I mean, at least not on purpose.