Dear Dr. Bones,
|"There are no more socialists — if they were honest they would change the name of the party .... [Socialism] evokes the nightmare of the Soviet Union, whose leaders named themselves socialists.” Today, he ["the most well-known  Parisian intellectual, writer Bernard-Henri Levy"] maintains, European socialists are essentially like American Democrats — there has been no ideological left in France that matters since the effective demise of the Communist Party, which was “the true exception française.|
¡Alas! Comrade Ronnie of the Seventh (?) International, as His now Effulgent Freemightiness of Radoszcz once was, brings this news so extremely belatedly that HFM might as well be talkin’ ’bout the late Queen Anne’s vital signs.
I suppose perversion must always be to some extent in the mind of the pervert.
Clearly H. E. FM. relishes the "History is bunk" side of his new-found ideobuddies. This, however, is maybe a little problematical from the careerist angle, since it is questionable whether Wally Wombschool an’ Cindy from Wasilla could successfully be astrofunded to take an interest in so obsolete a geezer as this one, were he to confine himself narrowly to the events of Century XV-XXI-LVIX; to matters, that is, not yet entirely effaced by the salutary paw of Destructive ©®eationi$™.
One might speculate, a tad uncharitably, that the AstroTurf™-Bagger Class regale the kiddiecons with the likes of HEFM as what might be termed "dogmatic vaccination." As follows:
Even today, Master Wally an’ Mizz Cindy might accidentally run into Ms. Clio in a public place. Say, when accompanyin’ their brats to the local Palace of Postliteracy, formerly the public library. In the long rule, the thing to do, obviously, is to make sure that all places without exception--with as few exceptions as humanoidly possible--have been (what the Freelords an’ the Kiddiemasters jubilate over as) ‘privatized’ thoroughly. Left without a hole to hide in, as it were, Clio will then either just curl up and croak, or emigrate to West Neptune, well out of infection range.
Meanwhile, though, it will be better for everybooby involved, if the Wombschool volks have been inoculated in advance with an Ersatzgeschichte that unquestionably is bunk. And that is an ideoproduct which His Effulgent Freemightiness of Radoszcz possesses primâ-facie qualifications to prepare.
It may seem rather a slender factional niche, Dr. Bones, but you are to consider that the Party of Grant & Hoover maintain a number of others that are not in principle different. Take Neocomrade Associate Justice C. X. Thomas, or Neocomrade Prof. Dr. Fu’ád al-‘Ajamí of the Johns Hopkins University, specimens whom we have agreed operate basically on the lines of "You can trust ME, Neocomrades! Eye am not like the others. ¡Not like THEM in the least! And now, let me fill you in on how very icky the others are . . . ."
¿Surely His Freemightiness of Radoszcz is turnin’ essentially that same trick?
No doubt this general class of whight-wing niches an’ refugia is ‘narrow’ in the sense that only a tiny numerus clausus of Party neocomrades can subsist on any given one of them. If "the others" suddenly started perverting to Hooverism en masse, the YCTM-INLTO shtyk would break down in a jiffy, no doubt about it. Yet as long as it is not overused, I see no reason why it should not continue workin’ indefinitely for the chosen few.
Perhaps you, sir, can think of such a reason. If so, Paddy and Eye will be pleased to learn what it may be.
(( It is maybe a difficulty for today’s McScenario that H. E. FM. is certainly in no position to give the selfservative kiddies inside poop on the abominable Frogs, modern as well as mediæval and ancient, a project which his freemightiness spends at least as much time on here as on bunkifyin’ our Miss Clio. Still, we have previously observed that once the Squire of Simon Pajama has made an acquisition for the freelordly stable, it (the acquisition) is allowed to range rather widely. A special pet like Don Ricardito de Fernández y Podhòretz does not have to discuss (Blacks or) Tans in more than every tenth scribble, if that.
(( And Mammon knows best. ))
 A faint whiff of subliteracy--not displeasing, considering the source-- emanates from that neocomradely wordin’. As opposed, that is, to "the best-known Parisian intellectual," which seems to Eye and to Paddy not only impeccable but also not notably stiff or formal. To be sure, we do not go in for linguistic pajamatarianism any more than for political. What is fine by us could easily seem impossibly stuffy to Master Wally an’ Mizz Cindy ensconced on their potatoe couches.