Outside the Asylum
While Democrats prepare for the winter of their discontent, Republicans are practicing their best end zone dance moves. As a student of history, I thought I might offer a Santayana-style caveat. Presuming November produces the electoral Waterloo the Democrats deserve, the GOP needs to remember the lessons of the past.
Just under a month ago, patriots filled the space in front of the Lincoln Memorial for a demonstration. Fronted by conservative icons Glenn Beck and erstwhile Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin, the Restoring Honor rally was massive. And when I say massive, I’m talking Rosie O’Donnell visiting the Twinkie factory massive.
When firearms enthusiasts get to chatting about their favorite subject, bystanders might as well get comfortable. I routinely enjoy these discussions, if only to see guys nicknamed “Da’ GunZlinger” use “milliradian” in a sentence.
Perhaps the most oft-repeated slogan of the War on Terror is “…fight them there so we don’t have to fight them here.” Irrefutable logic when weighed against the designs of every two bit desert-dwelling nut job with a B-40 and a dream. But what happens if the aforementioned nut job already has the B-40 (or 500 pounds of ammonium nitrate) and the dream; but isn’t dwelling in the desert? What if he’s in Detroit, or downtown Manhattan?
Stephen Colbert is a rare breed amongst lefties, a comedian who is actually funny. Compared to lowbrow liberal court jesters like Mike Malloy, Colbert is funnier than Mahmoud Ahmadinejad promising to whip the Marine Corps in a game of “catch the cruise missile.”
Georgia’s 12th Congressional District comprises 220 or so gerrymandered miles of economically and demographically heterogeneous land which includes everything from onion farms to America’s fifth largest port. The person who serves this diverse constituency, noted by the Cook Partisan Voting Index as being D+1 (listing slightly to port), is currently a wealthy trial lawyer named John Barrow.
Call it “televised serendipity”: A moment in which two members of the Democrat Party leadership get together and reveal the political deformities which have turned the “big tent” into a circus sideshow. Under normal circumstances — a President Barack Obama press conference, for example — the groveling sycophants in the corporate media allow these boors to babble on without interruption.
Tuesday’s edition of The Hill featured a piece by Sam Youngman about a Presidential photo-op in fabulous Fairfax, Va. Entitled “President Obama seeks his inner Bill Clinton and feels voters’ pain,” the piece focused on a White House sojourn to the home of an upper middle class family in the aforementioned suburban enclave.
For the eighth time in what increasingly looks like will be his only term, President Barack Obama held forth at a talking point dump, a/k/a press conference. For a man dubbed “messianic” by the liberal elite, I can’t help but notice of late, Obama looks as comfortable in front of the camera as a blind agoraphobic in Grand Central Station during rush hour.
I remember the first time I read Ray Bradbury’s Farenheit 451. I was a prisoner in an 8th grade English class. I also knew I was going to be facing Ayn Rand and George Orwell, with Anthem and Animal Farm looming on the syllabus. The teacher was clearly working on a bit of a motif.