Up from Tájí

Dear Dr. Bones,

Would you happen, sir, to have made contact down there, sir, with a late Mr. Whitman from Brooklyn NY? A poet, allegedly, and also -- more importantly for us at the moment -- a prose agitpropper for America’s party. I am seeking the ideal reviewer for this mornin’s latest last word in dogmatic slumberware, a stunnin’ destructocreation in monochrome from Party Neocomradess (eighth class) N. M. Guariglia. [0]

Now the designer’s press agent’s YaleoDrama™ist’s blog has already labelled this undoubted mistresspiece "G.O.P.’s Best Bet [for 2012]." Plainly there will be a lot more buzzards of that feather slinkin’ towards Hinckley before the true heir of J. Sidney McCain shall have been identified, duly uptarted, an’ installed as Dolly LLama to the Party of Grant & Hoover.. I ws hoping some sound Lieberal and Demoncrat with the better angles of the _Heimatland G*ttes_at heart could get Citizen Walt -- the late Mr. Whitman -- to write us a whole series of reviews-cum-essays to appear under the unbrella title _Foxcuckooland Vistas_.

A gifted parodist would be almost as good as the whight stuff itself. Maybe, given the Tee Putty an’ the Wisconsing Ascendancy an’ a’ that, margarine would wash even whighter than whight. [1]

’Tis far beyond the powers of this coarse and illiterate keyboard, needless to say, to make as much fun of the Freedame of Guaraglia as ought to be made.

To be sure, the chances are excellent that Wally Wombschool an’ the formally incomparable Cindy from Wasilla will not be carin’ for her freeladyship much more than Eye do. A vision of all selfservative kiddiedom takin’ to the malls an’ freedumbways of Rio Limbaugh/Port Ste. Luce under banners emblazoned somethin’ like "¡Pawlenty an’ West, Won an’ Insufferable, Now an’ Forever!" is positively _plus-quam-_foxcuckoolandic, if that’s a neoword. I believe the pollsters have established pretty firmly that Master Wally an’ Mizz Cindy find the _wolnomozhny Pan_ Pawlenty eye-glazin’.

As for the posthonourable an’ neogallant Alan, Master of West [2] in the peerage of Wingnut City, well, if Eye had to click the link to make quight sure I was thinking of the whight Party neocomrade, not even my fake modesty wll keep me from venturing that probably Wally an’ Cindy are in the same boat.

In short, the Freedame of Guaraglia proposes to entrust the bones of Barry Goldwater (&c. &c.) to Professor Snooze an’ Doctor ¿Who?

This, I fear, is a great deal too good from the donkey standpoint to be probable.

My fear is not (as I conjecture) much like what Master Wally an’ Ms. Cindy will be dreadin’, however. From their point of view, that of the Party base an’ vile, the objection to Prof. Snooze is that he is a ravenin’ R.I.N.O. To Dr. ¿Who?, that if "political correctness" compels their Party to nominate somebooby of *that* unfortunate description, why, ¡winnin’ would be almost indistinguishable from losin’!

The kiddies themselves tend to bark as if win-loss confusion were the problem with their rhinoes as well as with their tokings. This, however, seems to me, standing of course well outside the money house, to be not at all the case. As becomes a Party of illiberalism an’ antidemocracy, a Party that rarely sees an inequality that does not instantly appeal, his Freemightiness of Pawlenty an’ Neocomrade Fedguv Representative A. B. West are polar opposites.

Were the freedame scribbler a good deal more bestembright, she might have noticed as much herself, an’ recommended her gruesome twosome, drawn from the furthest corners of the ((goak here)) Big Tent, to the kiddies as a way to make sure their Party ticket embodies the great neovirtue of Fairembalance. True, the kiddies don’t actually give a hoot about Fairembalance, apart from when they lapse into self-sorrowin’ mode about those icky lame-stream medias, occasions which afford not much guidance for campaignin’.

From beyond the asylum perimeter, it is clearer what the inmates are really up to than it can be to themselves. Though his Minnesota freemightiness almost certainly will not win the boobies’ prize, still, he might. Granto-Hooverism as we know it would not be notably troubled, let alone subverted, should Pan Pawlenty’s funders buy his freenmightiness’s way to the top of the greasy pole. The chances of anybooby in TopPercenterdom ever buyin’ A. B. West a ticket to any spot so upmarket as the Vice-Potency of the N.S.A., Neocon(federate) States of America, are negligible. A transition from Richard Bruce, Freelord Cheney, in January 2009 to A. B. ¿Who? in January 2013 would be the Foxcuckooland equivalent of the Goths sacking Rome. ’Twould be like Citizen Samsa waking up in the morning to find himself somehow transformed into _una cucaracha grandíssima_.

Sooner or later, after another degeneration or so, somethin’ of that sort may conceivably befall the Grantoids an’ the Hoovervillains, but (A) NOT WHIGHT AWAY,

And (B) when - IF -- it does happens, I fancy it will be a comparatively small part of _Il Gran Refiuto_, the chaos that follows when the noble Godzilla loses her sole-remainin’-hyperpowerful grip, and all the evil bambies from the boondocks of the world start to get most things their -- thoroughly unwhighteous -- way.

_¡Cum vix Neojustus sit securus!

¡Hyperzion an’ Wingnut City shall not mourn alone, when that Day comes!

Nevertheless, O Bones, I expect the present racket to last my time with only minor tinkerin’.

Meanwhile, the Freedame of Guaraglia with her "tea-party war-vet rock star" is just business as usual. Rather behind the cuttin’ edge of Limblovian "societal evolution" is her freeladyship, in fact, inasmuch as she has failed to notice the birth of Cheneyanity from the spirit of _¡Sit pro ratione voluntas!_ Her freeladyship still regards the VicePotency as "a bucket of warm spit," blind to the marvelously foxcuckoolandic vista of a power center squirreled away in the (otherwise) evil Fedguv that can, in the hands of a suitable Daughter of Virtue or Son of Wisdom, do business on sound secret-sector principles, with no silly nonsense about accountin’ or respondin’ to anybooby whatsoever: "¡‘Transparency’, go eff thyself!"

To be sure, if the _Serenissima Signorina_ did perceive this radiant effulgence, she would not be wise to talk about it very explicitly, lest liebral and demoncratic fiends sit up and take notice also. "¡Softly, softly, catchee money!"

But it would be ridiculous for her freeladyship to be so extremely softospoken as to seriously wish to see Neocomrade Dr. ¿Who? at the hidden helm. Or any other Tee Putty or star rock in existence.

¿Who? does, I grant, possess (sorta) the whight violence-profession credentials: He achieved the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Army, electing to retire after an investigation of his conduct during the interrogation of a detainee in Taji, Iraq. Though Big LEW’s account of this ‘conduct’ is, as usual, likely to be such as pious neocomrades would start self-sorrowin’ about, I get the impression that ¿Who? was a minor-league Cheney wannabe, in that he had grasped the usefulness of waterboardin’ without stint or limit as a technique of Big Management.

Nevertheless, waterboardin’ is not all the world. Or even all the H*rv*rd Victory School M.B.A. curriculum. There are lots an’ lots of other mysteries that the junior birdperson must master before she can soar like a Richard Bruce Cheney in the bigmanagerial empyrean. There is no sign here that ¿Who? has mastered the whole HVS MBA _m’gillâ_, though I suppose _Signorina la baronesa_ may want her patients to suppose the rank of O-5 a good deal more bigmanagerial than it really is. Or even suppose so herself, her freeladyship not bein’, as I have mentioned, the sharpest tack on the Republicanian tarmac.

Like that other business, around which and about I pussyfoot myself, the good Rear-Colonel’s "¡No more Mr. Nice Guy!" impersonation did not strike her freeladyship as suitable for explicit communication to her agitproppees. Very likely when the Freedame of Guaraglia swoons "One listens to him speak and it is evident that they are listening to a leader" -- there is a curious specimen of Granto-Hooverite neogrammar, by the way; you might want to make a memorandumb of it -- she is thinkin’ to herself of the Tájí Incident. Eye am at a loss, however, to guess what she expects Master Wally an’ Ms. Cindy to make of such gush unexplained.

Had her freeladyship provided the explanation in full, it seems to me that she would still not have forwarded her Party an’ its AEIdeology much. The virile ruthlessness of ¿Who? would still be only window-dressin’, much like the foreign- and aggression-policy expertise of Comrade Biden. Obviously her freeladyship does not expect the Titan of Tájí to *run* a putative Pawlenty Régime any more than the late Party Neocomrade S. Th. Agnew ran the railroad of Richard XXXVII Nixon. Her freeladyship would like to see the name of Rear-Col. an’ Fedguv Rep. A. B. ¿Who? (AOP-FL.22) on the national ticket of her Party for essentially the same reason that cow-crazed Hindoos of the Congress persuasion used to like to see Bessie on their ballots: it sets the proper tone. Only the seriously misinformed would draw policy conclusions from mere Madison Avenue stuff.

Happy days (through affordable healthcare).
--JHM

___
[0] Thanks are hereby rendered to the Freedame of G. for graciously havin’ provided the johnhancock in _Pravda-Izvestiya_ neostyle "off the rack" as it were. I betcha all her freeladyship’s servants adore her -- up to the very moment of their disemployment.


[1] Please make a memorandumb of "¡Anythin’ Western Civilization can do, NeoChlorox™ can do better!" for possible refinement and use against.


[2] This intitulation is to be parsed strictly, like Master of Ballantrae for some bonnie freelaird’s eldest male brat.