The Weekend Politics Thread Knows When to Fold ’Em

♪ Lido be runnin’, havin’ great big fun until he got the note
Saying, “Toe the line or blow it, ” and that was all she wrote ♪
— No garden party lasts forever. Amen to that.

So, I’m quitting the Weekend Politics Thread. Again. For the third time, I believe. Some other ‘Cado has next starting Sept. 3, 2022. Don’t injure yourselves rushing to volunteer all at the same time.

Understand, my ceding the reins evinces no hard feelings, reveals no controversy, nor displays any contention. It’s just past time for another person to reign over this prime piece of vast wasteland. Let a new voice shout into the abyss while withstanding its gaze.

Before your tears rain down, recognize I’ve written close to combined four years’ worth of WPT headers since 2016. You’ve read everything I have to say on every topic -- often several times. No one, least of all me, wants me going full David Brooks, endlessly repeating myself on points that passed being passe in the mid-90s.


Longtime endurers of Uvular’s Weekend Politics Thread headers grok he thinks in song lyrics. The way past polymaths riposted with epigraphs from philosophic tomes, Uve references refrains from obscure-even-their-time college rock bands. Or, to rephrase, literal Greek to Pascal devolved into geek to a Politicado.

Three songs run through Uvular’s head more often than any others. Each speaks to the futility of fulminating on futility. None offers clarity beyond the kind that comes from squinting at the wider world through the mouth of an emptied liquor bottle.

Each does, however, hammer on the homily of getting out while the getting avails some good. Said good amounts to surviving into the next minute, hour, day, and some unforeseen future in which the narrator has improved even if nothing else has.

The message never amounts to “Hope to against hope”; rather, the lesson consists in hoping to find hope.

Illustrative of why Uvular takes his Irish goodbye at this time, he has featured each song in a previous WPT header. Hell, he even ran that “hope to hope” bit a few months back.

The first1 of the three songs tops this signoff post. The other two follow with full lyrics collapsed. Permit Uve to importune on you2 to scan “Punch Drunk” in particular.

“Punch Drunk”

Way in overhead
Caught off guard by the gutter
Everybody’s spending his time
Just building and making
Someday someone will say, For what?!
Nine to five in a blind alley
Equals three sheets to the wind
Can’t remember when it started
Don’t know where that it ends

And there’s never a dull day
When you’re beaten by nonfiction
God still reads the headlines: The front page hope is missing

Working away on a rebuilt freeway
Straight away from the slash-and-burn cities
Hindsight is there
On a road sign pointed nowhere
No one gets off here
No way to slow down
There’s peace of mind somewhere
For every someone that never thinks about it

And there’s never a dull day
When you’re beaten by nonfiction
God still reads the headlines we’re all listening
For every drop of sweat that it takes
To speak out in wonder
Never knowing how or when to duck next
Just sitting here punch drunk, all the wiser


I could make you scared, if you want me to
I’m not prepared, but if I have to
He said, I can make you scared, it’s kind of what I do
If you’re prepared, here’s what I propose to do

You’re in Russia and more than a million works of art
Are whisked out to the woods
When the Nazis find the whole place dark
They’ll think God’s left the museum for good

I can make you scared, if that’s what I do
If you’re prepared, and if I have to
If I make you scared, and you pay me to
That’s the deal, now here’s what I can do for you

Now there’s a focus group that can prove
This is all nothing but cold calculation

Tests have shown that suspicious are hostile
Their lives need not be shortened
Truth be told, they can live a long, long while
Tickled to death by their importance

If you can make me scared, if that’s what you do
If I’m unclear, can I get out of this thing with me and you
If you feel scared, and a bit confused
I got to say, this sounds a little beyond anything I’m used to

There’s a precious few that can prove at the root
This is all nothing but cold calculation

Clearly entranced, you’re leaving back now
Defanged destroyer limps into the bay
Down at the beach it’s attracting quite a crowd
As kids wade through the blood out to it to play

Okay, you made me scared, you did what you set out to do
And I’m not prepared, you really had me going there for a minute or two
He said, you made me scared too, I wasn’t sure I was getting through
I got to go
It’s been a pleasure doing business with you

Working the theme of acting despite around to the topical, the pinned poesy pertains to persevering to the point of perversity. Never expect success, but always fight against, for instance, Klansmen in all but name terrorizing historically Black colleges and universities, Call out what looks for all the world like entrapment of former felons who cast ballots in Florida. For that matter, militate for the restoration of voting rights for people who broke laws and served their sentences. Demand an end to hagiographies for hatemongers. Say “gay” and mean it in all its multitudes.

Because if you, specifically, do not do the work, who else will? If you stay silent and retreat into conformity with theocrats, fascists, oppressors, and those who hate Boz Scaggs’s “Lowdown,” how can you even face yourself in the mirror or sleep at night?

Plus, who knows? Do your part, and you just might deter a door-to-door fear salesperson from their appointed rounds.

If you never picked up anything else Uve laid down over his too many years of WPT hosting, internalize the injunction to inveigh, inveigle, and insist that the world change for the better for everyone.

Now, to quote the immortal Gord Downey two last times: “Give me ten bucks and a head start” because “You are ahead by a century / And disappointing you is getting me down.”