You may remember A.J. DiCintio, the retired teacher who rose from the mean streets of a city that prefers to remain nameless to become a pundit for virtual publications such as Mich News and RenewAmerica, and who, despite his humble origins, has learned to use his tongue prettier than a twenty dollar whore. Well, lucky for us, A.J. went to the Tea Bagger protest in Washington D.C., where a vastly mis-estimated crowd gathered for the purpose of not leaving any trash behind.
Worse than the stench of the stable
As the three of us drove to the nation’s capital Saturday, the suggestion that we should have made a sign saying “I’d Rather Drink Tea Than Kool-Aid” had two of us praising our friend’s thoughtful creativity all day.
I bet that was awfully gratifying for the friend, at first. I bet at first it filled him with a warm sense of validation and accomplishment. But after three or four hours, it probably got a bit tiresome, and then eventually, downright embarrassing. After eight or nine hours, he might have begun to suspect his friends’ sincerity, as night fell and their fulsome praise took an odd, almost sinister turn…
A.J.: (GUFFAWING) Hoo-boy, Jeff, I gotta tell ya, I just can’t get over that thoughtful, creative thing you said this morning on the drive to our nation’s capital. It’s like a song I can’t get outta my head. Know what I mean, Ted?
TED: Totally. Earworm. But not one that drives ya nuts, like The Night Chicago Died, or Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne, or some shit — this is like a poem.
A.J.: You’re like a genius, Jeff.
TED: Total genius. “I’d Rather Drink Tea Than Kool-Aid.” Man! That’s like the pithiest bit of political sloganeering since…I don’t know…
A.J.: Since Reagan, when he went to Normandy and said, “Mister Gorbabob? Tear…down…these…drapes!”
TED: Further back than Reagan!
A.J.: Benjamin Franklin! Did you ever read Little Richard’s Almanack? That’s some very pithy shit in there.
TED: Yeah, too bad Jeff didn’t think of it until we were already on the road...
A.J.: Hey — Yeah! Asshole.
TED: Greatest slogan in the history of the Republic, but does he think of it when we’re up all night makin’ signs? No, the lightbulb doesn’t pop on over his sorry skull until he’s dumping a Stuckey’s pecan log in the Chesapeake Rest Stop off I-95! You are such an asshole, Jeff!
After all, it is an incontrovertible truth that the dogmatic devotion leftists have exhibited to stupidities since they began praising the “important” ideas to be found in the works of the “great” Karl Marx reeks like the stables of Hercules’ Fifth Labor.
Apparently Mich News pays by the adjective.
But as I read the NY Times’ opinion columns the next day, it occurred to me that there is something much more repulsive than the love of a perverse dogma at work deep in the depths of the leftist psyche.
The stars at night,
Are big and bright,
clap! clap! clap! clap!
Deep in the heart,
Now, because that conclusion was occasioned by what the columnists have to say about those who disagree with the policies advocated by the nation’s Liberal-in-Chief, it is necessary to begin with a few observations about what we saw at the “party” —
A.J. is a bit vague about his pedagogical background, but I think we can safely eliminate “English teacher” from the possibilities.
Basically, tens of thousands of ordinary Americans — the kind of people who live in your neighborhood, the kind of people who reaffirm your faith in the brilliant good sense of Jeffersonian Democracy every time you serve on jury duty —
Unless it’s the jury that let O.J. Simpson off, right? Okay, that was a cheap shot. I’m sure if you had been on the jury trying Robert Chambliss for the 16th Street Baptist Church bombing in 1963, you would have been the lone voice to convict.
What grievances? That story is told by thousands of variously crafted placards that shouted warnings about a number of threats to “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness,”
None of which shouted the most Awesome. Slogan. Ever! because Jeff is such an asshole!
but mainly these two —
. . . centralized government (the essential darling of every leftist “thinker”)
I’m beginning to think scare quotes have gone the shark-jumping way of the three-letter exclamation, such as WTF! or FTW!, although I think the puppets from Thunderbirds should still be permitted to say “F.A.B.”
Here, I admit my complicity in discussions that have sent liberals screaming “O! The horror, the ugly, racist, fascist, Know-Nothing horror of it all!”
Yes, reacting to an “ACORN HEADQUARTERS” sign posted on a portable toilet, I entered into a conversation with a couple standing next to me, the three of us condemning the funneling of tax money to support the insidious “community organizers” who labor under ACORN’s far from oaken probity.
We spoke briefly, too, about Federalism and the Federalist Papers.
Because the port-a-potties were out of regular toilet paper.
Such ideas and attitudes are the mark of hateful, miserly, seditious idiots?
No. I wouldn’t say miserly…
Apparently for liberals, because Maureen Dowd was moved to write an entire column not only informing us that “what [she] heard” from Representative Joe Wilson was “You lie, boy!” but also that the racially demeaning term she hallucinated reveals the real motive of the opponents of the president’s policies.
That’s right, in a perfectly anti-intellectual, disgustingly irrational assertion, Dowd implies that the opposition to Obama’s policies is composed of a xenophobic (former DNC chairman Don Fowler’s idea) “loco fringe” given to a “shrieking lunacy.”
Okay, that was a cheap shot, too, because I’ve seen lots of you lunatics use your inside voice; at least when you’re being interviewed on FoxNews.
That venom, however, only winds her up to mock protestors as a repulsive bunch of secessionist crazies.
To be fair, many of them are only talking about Nullification at this point, and that’s never led to secession and civil war, except for that one time, and that was really more of a war between the several States to see who was the most “sovereign,” which I’m pretty sure back in the 19th century meant “bad-ass.” But it’s not only Maureen Dowd who has the ex-gym teacher’s jock in a knot; Frank Rich also suggested that one or two of the Tea Baggers’ grievances might be construed as trivial.
There you have it, Frank Rich standing enormously shallow beside the infinitesimally small Maureen Dowd
I used to stand shallow as a kid, until they made me wear corrective shoes for eighteen months.
who, in addition to sliming Obama’s opponents as racists, reacted to ideas that have been hotly and honestly debated in America since the days of the Constitutional Convention with this hateful, ugly, supremely stupid comment:
Democratic presidents typically have provoked a frothing response from paranoids — from Father Coughlin against F.D.R. to Joe McCarthy against Truman to the John Birchers against J.F.K. and the vast right-wing conspiracy against Bill Clinton.
Ah, liberals and the triumph of reason. What a beautiful thing to behold!
I think he meant that last part sarcastically.
If you are like me, you have wondered, “What is the source of such incredibly contemptible ‘thinking’? The love of centralized power? Of ruling? Of being ruled? Of arrogance, pretension, and hypocrisy?”
Well, for me, it’s For the Love of the Game. For others, it might be For the Love of Benji. And for still others, it’s probably for the love of Songs of Love For Lovers Only.
Anyway, it’s getting pretty late in the column; time for Mr. DiCintio to end with a Grand Finale of pyrotechnic goofiness. How about if he mistakes Jonathan Swift’s satire Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World, in Four Parts. By Lemuel Gulliver, First a Surgeon, and then a Captain of several Ships for a Rick Steves travel guide.
The questions turn our minds to Gulliver, the self-proclaimed giant who claims to be perfected by reason alone — the pride sickened misanthrope who cannot stand the sight and smell of even his wife and children but delights in his long visits to the stable, where, insulated from repulsive inferiors, he converses with horses, his only perfectly reasonable peers.
And who does that remind you of? Hm? Exactly! Barack Obama. And don’t get me started on new guys showing up in town and “proclaiming” themselves “giants,” just because they’re thirty times our size.
The madman does, however, condescend to tell us he has reconciled himself to the rest of humanity — who, unlike him, are subject to every vice — except one kind of person: “a lump of deformity, and diseases both in body and mind, smitten with pride.”
Having uttered that astonishing piece of irony, he then closes with another, equally as disgusting:
I here entreat those who have any tincture of this absurd vice that they will not presume to come in my sight.
Is it a particularly ugly, fetid, pernicious pride that swirls amid neurotic guilt and self-loathing in the deep, dark recesses of the liberal psyche?
Jonathan Swift (30 November, 1667 – 19 October, 1745): Doctor of Sacred Theology, Dean of St. Patrick’s Cathedral Dublin, leader of the Democratic Party.
Who knows? But whatever roils there, its effect stinks infinitely worse than the stench of the stable.
I, for one, am thoroughly sick of it.
As a liberal who reads a lot of wingnuts, I was given to understand that my principles came from Saul Alinsky, so you can imagine my joy in discovering that our founding document was actually written by an author who’s fun to read. Moreover, Gulliver’s Travels, unlike Rules for Radicals, has been adapted for the screen as an animated feature by Dave Fleischer, so you don’t even have to read the book to understand our firm, but nuanced position on the public option. So I suggest we all thank Dr. Swift, and vote for him next year for DNC Chairman.