Real Change

[Please note: I am currently without internet at home, and as such, I'm posting what is essentially an emotionally charged first draft in order to get it online. Please leave comments pointing out factual errors and other annoyance, as well as your general thoughts, and I will eventually post an edited version on The Commentariat.]

In the 2008 presidential election, voters of my generation turned out overwhelmingly in favor of now-President Barack Obama. The media says—and I agree—that we did so because we have been exposed to more than eighteen years of divisive, polarized politics. Partisan hackery is all the voters of my generation have ever known. An articulate and intelligent man promising change—promising to end that partisan hackery—reignited our idealism. Barack Obama guaranteed himself our vote with promises of a new Washington.

Half a year later, it’s hard to see what progress he’s made. From the closing of Guantanamo to the illegal wiretapping performed by the Bush administration, Obama has toed the establishment line on important issues that had earned him the vote of the iGeneration. His fiscal policy, like that of the majority of Washington politicians, is indeed a form of socialism—or, more accurately, social democracy; the Washington establishment abandoned its claim to anything resembling true capitalism when it branded financial institutions, and worse, large businesses, ‘too big to fail’—if not long before. The Obama administration has made no effort to prosecute the criminals of the Bush administration, and from all reports the largest change Obama has made in the White House since taking office is a sartorial one: the dress code has been relaxed in the most powerful building in the world. Whether or not you’re in favor of formal dress, that’s a poor decision issue to be famous for as the President of the United States.

Some may point out that Obama is at least articulate and intelligent and doesn’t practice cowboy diplomacy, that he at least uses hope instead of fear to gain support, and these things are true. However, the last eight years have made many of us forget that a president bright enough to understand national security briefings and remain friendly with the civilized world, a president capable of leading with hope instead of threatening with fear, should not be a luxury, but our basic expectation for the position. Although I for one am truly grateful to once again be able to claim such a president, I would remind my fellow Americans that we should not rate a merely competent president more highly than he deserves simply because he follows an incompetent one.

In retrospect, Obama’s indebtedness to the political establishment seems apparent. His rise to the presidency was meteoric, and began, for most of us, with his keynote address at the Democratic National Convention during the 2004 presidential elections. I predicted then, without benefit of any political party’s polling numbers, that Barack Obama would run in and win the 2008 election. If I predicted it as a seventeen-year-old, we can rest assured that the Democratic Party was more than aware of his ability to sway voters and win elections. His keynote address that year was the Party’s way of introducing him into the public eye. He was already being groomed then by diehard members of the Democratic political establishment for a run at the presidency. The image of change he projected during the 2008 electoral campaign was carefully calculated and chosen by his staffers and the Democratic Party at large as the one most likely to win the election for him—no more.

Obama’s challenger, John McCain, had been part of the Washington political establishment for far longer. Except perhaps for the blatant idiocy of McCain’s running mate, Sarah Palin, no part of the 2008 election was a real danger to the status quo in Washington. Regardless of the result, the man who moved into the White House would be a man picked and groomed by the Washington power brokers to fill the most powerful seat on Earth. He would not be a true outsider. There would be no real change.

And so we come to the most important questions the iGeneration has faced so far. Willingly blind as we were to his establishment ties, we still have the right to be angry at Obama for so glibly accepting our support; we still have the right to be angry at the Washington political establishment for maintaining a two-party system that is nearly as restrictive and choice-denying as a one-party system. We still have the right to be disappointed in ourselves for accepting the stories of change they told us without question.

But in the face of our disappointment, will we remember that we have these rights? In the flow of our anger, will we accept the responsibility to disempower the Washington establishment that has so blunted our political rights and replace it with a system worth supporting?

In the final estimation, will we be the generation that brings real change to Washington?

 

San Francisco Jambalaya

A little after eleven thirty today, I shook hands with the doorman and walked through the doors of San Francisco’s Gold Club. It’s a gentlemen’s club on Howard Street, which is to say right in the heart of the city and quite close to very respectable venues like XYZ. I’d never been to a gentlemen’s club before, and in all probability never will set foot in one again—but this being San Francisco and my very last Spring Break, I figured I should probably do at least one thing I might regret.

I’m pleased to say, I don’t regret it. Friday lunches and the accompanying show at the Gold Club are free after a $5 cover, so the place was pretty packed. The clientele ranged from construction workers on their lunch break to a trio of Japanese gentlemen in suits, as well as at least one middle-aged couple at the bar who appeared to be enjoying a date with nary a glance at the stage.

I made a quick foray to the buffet line, where I snagged some fried chicken, jambalaya, steamed veggies, and an iced brownie, then parked myself quietly at a two-person table in the corner. The only pressure I felt during the whole experience came from a relatively fully-clad waitress who let a frown crease her face when I expressed disbelief at the $5 cost of a bottle of water. In her defense, the water turned out to be Voss (artesian spring water from Norway), and came in a bottle that I plan to use as a credible Nalgene alternative for the rest of my time in San Francisco.

For a total cost of $10, the food and particularly the water—the Voss was nearly worth the $5—were entirely satisfactory. The chicken was a bit dry, but the iced brownie was delicious, so things balanced out. Since lunch was the whole point of the exercise for me, with the show being a sort of anthropological add-on, I count the trip as a success.

But that’s not what you wanted to know, so let’s rewind a bit.

When I walked up, the doorman said hi and asked to see my ID. Apparently satisfied that I wasn’t skipping high school lunch to hit a strip club, he waved me through the front door. The diminutive yet somehow intimidating Japanese-American woman at the front desk took my five and handed me a receipt, then gestured me through to the floor.

How to explain the inside of the Gold Club? Think of a cross between your favorite wannabe-upscale restaurant and your best-remembered high school dance (if it had special topless dancers announced by Casey Kasem). Add a small mirror-backed stage with a pole as the center of attention, and you’ve just about got it.

The girls who were working mixed in with the clientele. Occasionally some money changed hands and one of them would lead a gentleman off the floor to some back room or give a somewhat restrained lapdance right there on the floor. It was hard to tell whether some of the girls sitting at tables together were on the clock or just relaxing there in lingerie for the hell of it, since they didn’t seem to be approaching anyone. Presumably that was part of the atmosphere; I don’t know.

As far as the actual dancing goes, I’m going to draw from a Yelp review by Nicole G:

A $5 entry fee includes all-you-can-eat buffet and almost more thigh, breast and leg than you can handle in one sitting. We were there for a Chamber of Commerce meeting (this is how business gets done, people) and strangely enough, we never found our party.

Maybe we were distracted by the naked women? The gals are all cute, albeit somewhat tranquilized. I found myself wishing they would dance a little grindy-er, gyrate a little faster or put some guy in a headlock between their legs. I was feeling a little unfulfilled until we saw Shelby perform… dang, that girl went up the pole and pulled out more tricks than a circus monkey.

I dunno about Shelby and her tricks, but there was definitely one performer who stood out head and bare… uh… shoulders above the rest. The rest did seem a bit tranquilized.

I was pleasantly surprised to be approached by only one of the girls, and she as I was getting ready to leave. A gorgeous Latina in an attractive red not-much-of-anything, she tried to strike up a conversation but gave me a gracious (and dazzling) smile and moved off when I told her I was just about to leave. I’d no particular urge for a lapdance of my very own, but I was still pleased I’d chosen not to take any extra cash with me—I can see where an attractive girl in very little clothing could be ungodly persuasive.

Overall, I’d give the experience a solid four stars, at least as much for the anthropological experience as for the food or the dancers. I don’t really see why any man who has a regular date and more than $5 on hand for Friday lunch would spend his time or money at a gentlemen’s club, but if forced to, I suspect you could do much worse than San Francisco’s Gold Club.