Word: jacksonism
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...Chris Jackson has spent most of the last two years in politics. For eight months, he was a field organizer for the Dean campaign in New Hampshire. Then, for the general election, he took a job helping America Votes—a consortium of progressive 527s including America Coming Together, the Sierra Club and the Service Employees International Union—coordinate their operation...
...march toward world domination with the release of Crunk Juice, honing the method that brought you the year’s biggest hit, Usher’s “Yeah!.” Yes, everybody had a good year. Except Ashlee Simpson, Phil Spector and Michael Jackson...
Nevada Senator Harry Reid's capitol office is decorated-incongruously, given his taciturn demeanor-with large portraits of two fabulously flamboyant Americans, Andrew Jackson and Mark Twain. The Jackson portrait is dynamic, wind whipped, but slightly obligatory. Old Hickory, the first President who was not an aristocrat, was the brawling founder of the modern Democratic Party, and Reid, newly elected Senate minority leader, is now the highest-ranking Democrat in Washington...
...once got into a fistfight with his father-in-law-to-be, an observant Jew who opposed the marriage for religious reasons, and I realize how perfect both portraits are. Reid's story is Twainian, a western desert tall tale, and his background is as brutal and hardscrabble as Jackson's. "I guess it's no secret that both my parents drank heavily," he finally says. "I didn't learn my family values in Searchlight," he adds, referring to the tiny Nevada mining town where his father committed suicide and his mother washed laundry for the local brothels...
...true that films are more sex-obsessed these days. All of pop culture is. Americans listen to Howard Stern, giggle over Janet Jackson, collect unrated DVD editions of the American Pie movies, gossip about celebrities' dirty secrets. We ogle (and then condemn) the dropping of a towel on a Monday Night Football teaser, leaf through Jenna Jameson's How to Make Love Like a Porn Star, log onto the Internet and bathe in all that warm cyberswill. But all this is essentially kid stuff, somewhere between adolescent and infantile in its voyeuristic avidity. It codifies the randy talk...