A Balancing Activist: Satire, Short and Sweet

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A Balancing Activist: Satire, Short and Sweet
by Erik Jay

Balance. Life's all about balance. I know it's true, because my wife tells me all the time, and she speaks with unwavering accuracy. Plus she knows me inside out.

I suppose I could zoom off on any number of trajectories from that launch-pad of an opener, so I'll spare you the suspense: I've got a balanced column for you today, one part book review and one part comic relief. For all of us who work and play in politics -- or its journalistic and/or entertainment divisions -- there is always a real danger of burn-out; I burned out so bad once that I didn't write a word of opinion, on politics or anything else, for almost the entire decade of the 1990's. What pushed me to the edge of sanity, distorted my vision, and hamstrung my heart was a lack of balance and a total loss of perspective; everything was urgent, everything was life-threatening, every odd turn of fate or illogical outcome was a conspiracy, and nothing was lightweight, fun, or enjoyable anymore.

Sound familiar? You may have been there, you may be there now; and, almost worse than that, you may be watching the same thing happen to a favorite pundit or commentator. An unvaried diet of gloom, doom, conspirators, and traitors -- and, sure, there's plenty of truth to the ugly things we hear about, and yes, evil is real -- doesn't just make Jack a dull boy; it can make him a raving lunatic.

Balance, as the wife says. It's all about balance. And that's why we take a break from the serious save-America fare surrounding us for something a little more upbeat, with the intention of balancing the drudgery and dyspepsia of current events with a few laughs. And that brings us to F.R. Duplantier's new book -- "Politickles: Limericks Lampooning the Lunatic Left" -- of which I have an autographed copy.

Full disclosure: I know F.R. Duplantier as "Bob" and I worked with him once upon a time, just prior to my flame-out. He is a good friend still, although we're half a country apart and see each other every five years like clockwork. And I don't take editing suggestions from anyone else because he's truly gifted, language-wise; for example, he would never say "language-wise" but I'm a little lazier than he is and won't take that extra moment or two to find just the right word.

In "Politickles" -- published by Merril Press, and available at Amazon.com (go get it, get it? -- you immediately get the sense that Duplantier knows exactly what he wants to say, and knows how to say it. But why would a "serious" writer, someone who was teaching college at 19, come out with a small 100-or-so-page paperback of limericks when culturally schizophrenic America could use something weightier?

Duplantier tells us himself, in the book's introduction. Writing limericks, achieving a dramatically humorous effect within the strict metric confines of the medium, is a real challenge -- but, he admits, an "addictive" one. And it appears that Duplantier doesn't regard a successful limerick as being book-bound; that is, he sees his "Politickles" limericks as "the verbal equivalent of editorial cartoons. They make a point quickly, forcefully, humorously. Like editorial cartoons, they're ideal for energizing allies or demoralizing opponents, and perfect for posting on office bulletin boards, faculty lounge refrigerators, and other high-traffic areas." Obviously, Duplantier is an evangelist as much as a wordsmith, and "Politickles" is/are dressed in combat garb so as to go forth into the philosophical fray and land some quick jabs. The knockout punches will come from someone else -- I'm giving it my best shot, for one.

Anyway, the "Washington Times" and "Human Events" have printed them, and "Politickles" can be found posted all over the virtual turf of the Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy, including a regular above-the-virtual-fold spot at the "Eco-Logic Online" area of Freedom.org's website. I tend to think Duplantier's Revengers are not so abundant in faculty lounges, on refrigerator doors or elsewhere, given the author's professed opinions on the state of higher education in America:

"Failing Marx"
Socialism is dead!
Done in, the indomitable Red!
Or so it would seem,
But in academe
One had better check under one's bed.

Office bulletin boards are probably more receptive grounds for Duplantier's satire, although the following example suggests that those offices won't include many on Capitol Hill:

"Extra Income"
By dollar, by yen, or by ounce,
One can only surmise the amounts
That a solon retains
As his ill-gotten gains
In his numbered Swiss savings accounts.

I consider Duplantier's fate sealed vis-a-vis any popularity among the bureaucrats, boneheads, and BS'ers of the federal government, and offer the following as a final proof (other examples abound in the book):

"Death & Taxes"
Charlie Chan and his Number One Son
Had no trouble finding the gun,
But the victim, said Chan,
Was an IRS man,
And the killer could be anyone.

Okay, then, we can dismiss Washington, D.C. and environs as targets for a marketing blitz on behalf of Duplantier's collected witticisms. Perhaps he would have been able to salvage some liberal enclaves for the sales team at Merril Press had he settled instead for half-witticisms, but that's neither here nor there. (Actually, it may not be there, but I worked very hard to work that line in HERE...)

Well, doesn't that seem to suggest that Republicans are a natural audience -- let's hope a paying one, as the Duplantiers are expecting their (gasp) sixth child this summer -- for "Politickles" the book? Perhaps moreso than the Dems, but Duplantier is not shy about expressing his disdain for nincompoops wherever they're found on the political spectrum. For example:

"Crowded Cabinet"
D-o-E, D-o-Ed, E-P-A:
Each department would close right away -
plus Commerce and HUD,
That fraud-ridden dud,
If Republicans did as they say.

Hey, Bob, that's not very compassionately conservative, but it's conservatively compassionate, which is a far better approach than the institutionalized GOP's slogan suggests. As a libertarian I find Republican policies and proposals and personae just about as gut-wrenchingly God-awful as Democratic ones -- and my apologies to God for even using His name in a sentence with (a) the party of privilege and (b) the party of privileges.

Duplantier, of course, offers no apologies of any sort, at any time, to any one, on any page. Before you read the following limerick, you should know that the Duplantiers home-school their children; after you read it, you will realize that, if they hadn't been home-schooling before publication, the NEA in their neck of the woods probably would have suggested they do so.

"Daring to Discipline"
At MY junior high no one cares
About violence, drugs, and affairs,
But a teacher's on hand
With a swift reprimand
When a student is caught saying prayers.
(emphasis in original)

I suppose that, for real balance and the most effective escape from seriousness, one should leave the political plantation altogether and read, say, Ogden Nash's apolitical assemblages of sharp quips and odd characters. But for those of us hooked on politics -- "addicted" as Duplantier is to both politics and limericks -- just backing off from our daily-issue D-Days and pitched ideological battles enough to read something other than internet scare stories is a real accomplishment. And, of course, starting with Duplantier's book may lead one to other, completely uncontroversial but emotionally salutary reading material -- like the Sunday funnies, maybe.

Perhaps I should say, the Sunday funnies section the way it was when I was growing up. Today's funnies, with a few exceptions, don't even try to be funny anymore. I'm going to give that subject the whole "Culture Shock" treatment next time around, and will try to conclude that column on an upbeat note, with sure and certain directions for you to find some truly funny, wholesomely humorous diversions in your Sunday paper.

For now, I'll end this week's gabfest with a four-out-of-four star rating for F.R. Duplantier's "Politickles" -- but I'll let Bob have the last word:

"No Cure for the Common Scold"
They insist we directly disown
Every pleasure and pastime that's known.
Those "natural" nags
And health-conscious hags --
Oh, why can't they leave us alone?

I couldn't have said it better myself.

I could figure out a way to get in the last word. Until next time, go out there and do some good.