I don't read the Boston Phoenix religiously, and don't know anyone who does, but I'll pick it up if the front page grabs me.  Hello Kitty was on this week's, so you know I had to pick up two.  Having recently discovered lolcats, I was interested in what they had to say about what they're calling "the cuteness surge." 

It was such a humorless, tedious piece of pseudo-criticism, it reminded me of the first time I dropped acid (twenty years ago now). I know I've told this story before, but my friend and I happened to be in her kitchen when we entered the "tripping your balls off" stage of the proceedings, whereupon I found myself staring, enraptured, into the litter box in the corner.  It was bubbling and churning and I don't know what all.  And Alissa, my friend, bless her, says to me, "dude, come on, get out of there — you don't want to spend the whole night scratching around in the litter box." 

My point is, not everything that might seem fascinating when you are high is when you're not.  Some things, like Miles Davis to name one, work either way (although to really appreciate a magnum opus like Pangaea straight you will have had to have listened to it fucked-up first).  Many things don't cross over, though.  And then, some things just don't stand up to a lot of a certain kind of journalistic scrutiny, no matter how badly we'd like them to explain some deep psychosocial need, or be explained by one. 

This piece in the Phoenix on the cuteness plague is like a parody of culture criticism, but without any awareness on the part of the author that she is writing parody.  Check out some of this cracklin' reportage:


Whatever. 

The reason I've brought you here today is not to discuss the evo-psych origins of cuteness, it is the cutest candidate, himself.  I sort of skimmed the Phoenix's endorsement (it was the usual fluff) but it was the artless, knowingly unironic photo that accompanied the print version that had me rolling my eyes...


The halo's a nice touch, guys. Subtle.  And it reminds me of why I won't be voting for Obama next Tuesday.  Because this is straight out of Cult of Personality 101. 

Hillary could stand in front of a halo-inducing backdrop all day, and no one would think to snap a picture like this of her.  And if they did, and it made its way to print, it would be used to the utmost ironic effect.  And that's as it should be.  But that's not the case here, is it? 

The problem with True Believers is that they can't see how anybody else doesn't see it, whatever it is they've poured themselves into.  Caroline Kennedy claims "Barack Obama can lift America and make us one nation again." Hooey. 

Watching the CNN debate tonight I saw two remarkably articulate, interesting, potentially inspiring but refreshingly human candidates that Democrats could be proud of. Obama can lose his way and sound befuddled at times.  Clinton seldom does, but can be bug-eyed and gloaty.  Both can be catty.  Both can rouse a crowd. (Clinton got the biggest applause with the line: "It took one Clinton to clean up after the first Bush, it'll take another one to clean up after this one.")

Frankly, I didn't see the saint and the whore the media never tire of flogging. I saw two bright, talented politicians.  No halos.  But they say sometimes you have to believe it to see it. And I'm not looking for a deity, myself, in a president.