Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Again
Frank Rich, Hillary Clinton's tears, etc. The comedians tag. Liberals used to complain about political commentary as theater criticism. Now they don't.
Hit the bastard, Ms. Clinton. Then keep doing it until he stops moving. And then hit him a few more times to be sure. 
People react to fear, not love.
They don’t teach that in Sunday School, but it’s true. 
Do you think Mrs. Clinton remembers what fear did to her old law partner Vince Foster? He was a deputy White House counsel at the beginning of Mr. Clinton’s administration, one of the old Arkansas hands who’d never played in the big leagues before. Georgetown normally spits out strangers, but Foster charmed them; people were saying he’d get the Supreme Court before eight years were up.

Depending on whom you believe, Foster was either too damn good a lawyer, an upright smalltown guy who couldn’t bear to screw political enemies, or he knew too much about nepotism and embezzlement in the White House Travel Office. 
Either way, he stuck a gun in his mouth. 
Love doesn’t mean a thing when your back’s to the wall. You have to stare fear in the face and use it, by God. Take it up and beat the bastards back with it again, and again, until it’s your heel on their necks. Or it kills you. 
Take Muskie. Remember his corncob downeast Lincoln act? Kids turned out for him, and he looked like a guy who could stand with Brezhnev. We turned him into a bigot and a pansy, a drunk’s husband who takes pills and weeps in public. 
Hit the son of a bitch until he stops moving, then let the public keep hitting him as he lies there. Go to people’s fears. Or it’s your ass.
He's riffing on a famous, alleged, quote from Pauline Kael. The real quote:
“I live in a rather special world. I only know one person who voted for Nixon. Where they are I don’t know. They’re outside my ken. But sometimes when I’m in a theater I can feel them.”
The Bruenig fiasco is amusing. The liberal consensus is breaking apart. The older generation is backing Clinton out of loyalty and youthful members of the apparat are split. I expected better of Joan Walsh, but Jessica Valenti has always been awful. Duncan Black's pathological equivocation:  "Your favorite candidate".  Running away from anything that frightens him, anything he perceives as ambiguous.
The geek need for binary simplicity.

"pathologically opposed to ambiguity" "throw/s up his hands" "pathologically anti-intellectual" "know-nothing" all repeats.

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