Blessed be the moderates, for we shall inherit the dearth

As a voter, I'm an endangered species -- a moderate. Somewhere between a Howard Baker Republican and a Daniel Patrick Moynihan Democrat, which, number one, badly dates me and, number two, puts me in a very narrow political demographic of little use to either party anymore. Today's politics are all about whipping the bases into a frenzy, and I'm way off base.

We Bakerian Moynihanites believe government is essential to national security and certain domestic duties, but to expect it to do anything especially efficiently or cost-effectively is foolish. That applies equally to waging war and running health care. We acknowledge the need for both guns and butter but think we ought to pay for them, and if we can't afford it all -- and we can't -- we should buy less of one, or probably both, rather than spend ourselves into oblivion.

We moderates are leery and weary of the shouting from both extremes. Doesn't anybody here know how to use an inside voice?

Tea Partiers rant about "taking our government back." They love to cite the Constitution, though one suspects many haven't read the thing and would do so only if it came in coloring book or Primary Reader form ("See Dick go on and on and on about his fantasy football league; that's freedom of speech. See Jane point an AK-47 in his direction; the 2nd Amendment says she can do this until you pry it from her cold, dead hands. Spot cannot seem to produce a birth certificate proving he's a real American.")

On the torches-and-pitchforks fringe of the Tea Party -- and also among some actual Republican candidates who identify with the TP -- some mutter darkly of armed revolution, but let's not get too worried; most of these folks look barely capable of organizing a beer run without driving the van into a tree or canal, or over themselves.

Meantime, Obama seems to be disappointing or angering just about everyone, because that's what presidents do once they go from the thrill of the campaign to the grubby reality of governing. Many of us moderates, while excited at the prospect of an African American president, were frankly skeptical from the start about all this airy "hope and change" talk, but it's those who bought into it who are especially hurting. Yes, it's hard to believe that a guy who won messianic acclaim and worship from media and supporters alike for such campaign promises as "yes, we can" and "we are the change we've been waiting for" would have ended up falling short of expectations, isn't it?

(On the lunatic wings of both extremes, there is at least some common ground -- a belief that the height of clever, cutting political commentary is to adorn the picket-sign images of your foes with Hitler mustaches. It's time to banish this tired practice; it does a disservice to the legacy of Hitler, who worked way too hard to redefine evil to be compared to every other American politician. Here's an idea: Instead of Hitler mustaches, how about drawing Justin Bieber hairdos on our political nemeses? A much more topical cultural reference and, in its way, more dismissive and insulting.)

So, another Election Day looms. Clearly, Sarah Palin has emerged as the counterweight to Obama. She was smart enough to see the Tea Party movement forming and to say, as the old saying goes, "There go my people. I must find out where they are going so I can lead them." Now, she's the veritable Wicked Witch to these flying monkeys. "Take your army to the Haunted Capital and bring me that boy and his dog. Now fly – fly! Fly! Fly! Fly!"

I can't help it: Whenever I hear Palin's voice, I react like a dog having a dog whistle blown next to his head -- I cover my ears, whimper and tremble; a couple of times, I even peed on the floor. But I also have a visceral reaction every time I hear and see Harry Reid, who may be the only politician in America awful enough to lose to the deranged Sharon Angle. Reid sometimes reminds me of a mortician and other times a mortician's customer, no offense to either morticians or corpses.

Oh, and speaking of corpses, Newt Gingrich somehow climbed out of his political grave, and all signs point to that noxious toad running for president.

So, while we can be glad the 2010 election is nearly over, it's nearly time to start dreading 2012. Palin-Gingrich vs. Obama-Biden.

Hitler mustaches all around. And Bieber haircuts, too, please.