Feb 12, 2011
If this is a brotherhood of tea-loving hoarders, surely their most peculiar members are those plastic straws on Main Street who suck on Glen Beck’s Mindless Milkshakes.
Well, that was a self-indulgent sentence, I admit. But how am I to comprehend Reagan Republicans in modest bungalows and apartments who surely cannot answer what Reaganomics ever did for them. “If I make 30K for a family of five, I need more. I know! I’ll help make the obscenely rich richer; that will trickle down to me. You know, the way it did at Enron.”
I submit that CBRs (Cheyney-Bush-Rove disciples) need a new heart, the kind that’s more than an organ. Along with the crackhead Dons of Wall Street, most were born into every advantage offered by the wealthiest society on the planet. But they wanted more.
TG&S! (TheseGuys&Sarah!) don’t settle for little . . . Gifts . . . like poems or music or art or hillsides. They want kingdoms, or at least BFFs (Big Forever Fiefdoms). The many Bible-Thumpers among them surely wink or take strange medicine as they dare to claim they want their BFF as a feature of Christianity, which to a minority is a code that celebrates modesty, humility, obedience, and purity of spirit.
Somehow along the way, TG&S! didn’t get theirs. With a bounty on their tables, they’re mysteriously hungry, angry, and pathologically competitive. Don't you dare call that healthy ambition. Don’t you dare extol that as an absence of welfare laziness. You know perfectly well it goes way beyond that, eating anything in its path.
My beef is that I’m sick of not understanding, not even imagining, a scenario that explains such hyper-focused, rapacious Me-ism. I’m sick of not getting it. TG&S!, I don’t want your moronic hoarded stuff; I want to know what makes you tick. Of course, what would I do with that information--go fall on my sword?
Part Three coming in a day or two . . .