'Benghazigate', as some call it

Dear Dr. Bones,


Neohaven an’ Yaleodra™a to the contrary notwithstandin’, his freelordship of Simon Pajama perhaps never had all that much of a mind to lose. Nevertheless what’s left is in imminent peril, to judge from this scrumptious palæosabbath-mornin’ slice of pious baloney.

Q. ¿Why is a raven like a writing desk?

A. Because "Benghazigate, as some call it, is worse" than Watergate. Q. E. D.

Furthermore, pomegranates are thicker than water.

For once, the Fearless Funders of Freedumb, who pay to AstroTurf™-bag the brains of the brat pack into Tee Putty, have managed to lose Paddy altogether. Usually, one can make what the knaves in command an’ their scab clevers are up to, but not this time. ¿What on G*re’s green earth can their freelordships suppose themselves to be doin’ when they underwrite, and their clevers work up an’ stage, a major Otherparty Bark-an’-Bellow ’bout ""Benghazigate, as some call it"?

But even in extremest perplexity, one can annoy the wombschool community with a distinction or two. ’Tis only looking forwards, towards achieved results or at least original-intented outcomes, that the Benghazibaiter gentry (as some call ’em) do not make sense. Deploying a rear-view mirror [*], however, the student of neocomradology can guess that benghazibaitin’ must be designed to give the kiddie selfservatives a distraction from all those pesky polls in which Mittius Coriolanus Pompo an’ the Smirk of Janeseville have not been gettin’ proper respect from the lower orders.

To be sure, "just a distraction" is not the strongest of explanations: pretty well anything and its sister-in-law could be dragged in to distract. Ideally, one would like to have some notion why the Fearless Funders prefer this particular distraction to an almost infinite zoo of competitors. It makes things worse, not better, that to summon up the Old World to fairembalance a New in which one’s Class’s political tricks are temporarily falling flat is pure cliché at Potomac River City. Usually, of course, it is a ploy adopted by the Executive Branch that is rather than by mere wannabes, but that does not make it less a cliché.

***

His freelordship’s cupboard love for Citizens Caddell and Powers affords no amusement or mystery, but Wally Wombschool an Cindy from Wasilla will not have noticed the fearful symmetry of it: ¿Who better to listen to in this Year of Coriolanus Pompo than his equal-but-opposite numbers, renegade whight-wing Demoncrats and Lieberals?

Though come to think of it, I believe we can make a little fun and mystery for ourselves by wondering what a wet-behind-the-fangs freelord like Simon Pajama *really* thinks of goodvolks who agree with almost everythin’ to which his freelordship recently perverted -- yet do not themselves boldly pervert. [**] I daresay his freelordship can toss a little Caddel & Powers brand bathsalts into the tub for his next wallow in self-esteem an’/or self-sorrowin’: "Unlike somevolks, Eye found the courage to act on my neovictions" &c. &c. &c.

Happy days.


___
[*] No intrepid explorer of the quaint by-ways of Wingnut City or scenic feverswamps of Rio Limbaugh / Port Ste. Lucie should be without this item of equipment. Nowadays, many whightist agitproppers like to make noises about "reactionary liberalism," as if servility / conservility / neoservility were now the Cuttin’ Edge of Progress. Were that the case, a rear-view mirror would be perfectly useless, one would never see the slightest trace of one’s quarry in it. The Freedumb Funders an’ their crews of scabs an’ señoritoes an’ pajamaclads would be merrily wreakin’ Destructive ©®ea™ionism on tomorrow, while the student wastes her time looking for them back in yesterday.

But it is not the case at all, as any fool may plainly see simply from Coriolanus Pompo an’ the Smirk settin’ up to be "America’s Throwback Team." Moreover, as American D*cl*ne (Pat. Pend.) continues and accelerates, there will be more and more occasions on which humanoid events will be very puzzling indeed viewed either with the naked eye or through any optical apparatus other than precisely the rear-view mirror. Of course The way up and the way down are one and the same, but unless one reverses lift and whight in a mirror, they may misleadingly look rather different.

You heard it here first.


[**] Without wandering off into psychobabble altogether, one may wonder, perhaps, about the psychic rewards and penalties Master Patrick or Mizz Kirsting would incur by perversion, both (A), in the 16.3% event that Coriolanus Pompo becomes dictator an’ the Smirk magister equitum, and (B), in the 83.7% event that their firstlordships fall short.

To join the winnin’ side after the battle is inglorious, but often richly rewardin’. On the other hand, if rich reward were all that our semi-renegades cared for, ’twould be inexplicable that they have not been Republicanines an’ conserviles all their lives.

To wait until Team Freedumb loses the next round before formally signin’ up would be so peculiar chez nous as to be almost un-Homeland™ic, not that Paddy McTammany would raise any chauvinistic objections meself. Few things are less likely, but if C&P were to do it, they would be pervertin' not to mainstream throwbackism, but to a really tiny backwater trickle of selfocentric reaction that contains only J. Sidney McCain that anybooby ever heard of. "Mugwump Creek," call it. Or "Maverick Bayou."
Since C&P already enjoy the full self-privileges and neo-immunities of Mugwumpianity and le maveriquisme en Amérique where they are, it would seem perfectly pointless of them to move. Even if they have tired of that show and crave to be quiet conformists for a change, they could simply start agreeing with their nominal comrades, Again, without any need for a trip to City Hall to re-register.