Dear Dr. Bones,
His here freelordship drones on, and On, and ON, auditionin’ to become the next Isaac Gingrich [1] of the Stupid Party. In particular, he has rediscovered that the race of scabs and the race of strikers overlap. I believe crossbreedin’ is technically possible, though his freelordship is too decorous a Daughter of Virtue / Son of Wisdom to expatiate on that angle.
When his freelordship has finally staggered down almost to the bottom line, though, it turns out the Lake Woebegone Epiphany has been but half drooled out. His freeelordhip dumps the rest of his Tee Putty Peruna with commendable dispatch:
| The only way to maldistribute wealth is to maldistribute power. And the only entity capable of that is government (( emphasis stricken )) |
That’s all there is, there ain’t no more. You may fit that on a postcard, Dr. Bones, should the fit take you. As to the usual refugium of such pious viennasausages [2], the bumper sticker of a murder vehicle, Eye thought of that medium at once myself and wondered if the Word of Walter might not be abbreviated by leavin’ out the second clause.
It can not. Take that away, and the remainin’ string would not just be ‘untuned,’ as the One-Percent Bard sang, it would be a loose cannon on deck, an ideological accident waitin’ to happen. Admit, even suggest by omission for reasons of space, that Lady Fairembalance can be ripped untimely from the embraces of Lord Mammon by any agancy of the Secret Sector, and you have laid the ’intellectual foundation" for pretty well everything that the little lady drools of.
To consider a safely dead example, had St. Elisabeth of Warrenbuffert been with us in the 1880’s, she might well have wanted to poke her boney nose into the affairs of Standard Oil (and a lott of smaller fry) looking for Maldistributed Power. St. John Geckefeller made plenty of enemies in the course of his ascent of Mount Capitalism who would have been willin’ to betray secret-sector solidarity to get their own (¡hah!) back from the S. O. Bastard, had there been anybody to complain to.
His freelordship’s second clause is indispensable because it cuts the intellectual foundation out from that Bolshevik sedition at once. It ain’t "maldistributed power" unless the Gummint maldone it. Period. Full stop. "There is nothing to see here, Senator Warren. I’ll have to ask you to move on quiet, ma’am."
Now by Stupid Party standards, judged against the weekly standarizin’s an’ Classy neocriteria of Foxcuckooland, maybe Walter of Woebegone really deserves to be acclaimed Einstein of the Month. That’s up to the selfservative kiddies alone. If they asked Paddy and Eye, though, we should recommend that they wait until the Neohudsonian Epiphany has actually cornered the market.
At the moment it still reeks a little of its extraterrestrial origins. On Planet Dilbert, as you know, sir, there is no need to prove that the Evil State can work nothin’ whighteous.. That would be as superfluous as proving that water is wet would be on the cranberry-infested shores of the Massachusetts Bay. I suspect in their native tongue the term is ‘Evilstate’, all one word, probably eroded into somethin’ not immediately etymologizable like ‘Eelsteight’ by whole millennia an’ æons of sturdy freeyeopersons,
guided, of course, by learned Kiddiemasters an’ potent Freelords, who make sure that any slightest revival of eelstatism is noticed at once and salubriously extirpated, "strangled in midstream," as it were. [3]
For the fame of Walter of Woebegone to be *permanently* established, a good first step, it seems to us, would be for Freelord Dr. Paul of TX to become POTUS of us all. This seems a little unlikely just at the moment, maybe, but we shall see.
Meanwhile, viewed from the steps of the Eng. Lit. Dept, his freelordship gives rise to a sort of S.A.T. analogy,
| Ratzinger : Augustinus :: W. X. Hudson : Alexander Pope |
I mean that his freelordship wrecks a Goode Olde Thinge with tasteless modern tartin’s up, some of which the wreckers themselves may with subjective sincerity account ‘restorations’.
Freelord Pope’s ever-immortal "¡Whatever Is, Is Whight!" is not improved as literature / rhetoric / agitprop by tackin’ on "Unless, of course, the Evil State did it, in which case kindly disregard this notice."
Happy days.
--JHM
[1] "Then Newton came, an’ all was WHIGHT." (Eye quotes from memory)
[2] "Thank you, Massa Speaka"
[3] Some neocomradologists have speculated that on Planet Dilbert to say "the State is a good" is self-evidently not quight whight, that it somehow involves a more than verbal self-contradiction, though one that eludes translation into human languages. Paddy and Eye have never been able to imagine what this ‘somehow’ would be like, and so we content ourselves with the less heroic notion that Messrs. les libertariennes et libertariens weed their dogmatic gardens constantly. Like those famous can’t-fly bumblebees from M.I.T., the Dilbertarian kudzu an’ ragweed an’ dandelions seem unaware that to be a weed is to contradict oneself.
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