Why I let my National Review subscription lapse, personified
Liberals love Obama because he is a Numinous Negro. Conservatives love Palin because she has a Downs baby and an M-16. For both sides, that is all on earth ye know and all ye need to know. You might call it mystical and childish.
May I be so wrong that a hundred harpies will pluck my eyeballs.
Wrong? You? Surely that was merely a rhetorical flourish — an attempt to attach Rortian “irony” to your proclamation’s contingency. Because really: how could you be wrong considering the kinds of earthy rubes you are dealing with?
Ah, if only “conservatives” were all as sharp as Brookhiser! If only they were capable of his level of self-reflection! But alas, no such luck. I blame monster trucks. And of course MGD.
In fact, how Brookhiser even gets through the day standing up for dullard conservatives with their superficial rah-rah-ism is anybody’s guess — but I suspect that he thinks of his service to the conservative cause much like “progressives” think of their service to the dispossessed minorities they claim to champion: he’ll allow them along for the ideological ride, provided they just shut up and not embarrass him by pretending they can think for themselves, at least on matters that don’t involve football pools or church bake sales.
It is the elite, educated rightwing pundit’s burden under which poor Brookhiser labors — and sometimes, when he isn’t musing about Hubert Humphrey in the shower, he has to admit that all those flyover country flea market shoppers clinging to their guns and their god just don’t deserve such a great thinker as he.
Still, he sallies forth. And in the bloody morning after? One tin soldier rides away.
GOD BLESS HIM!
(h/t Pat Riotic, via email; more, from Ace)