That’s why our blacks are so much better than their blacks. To become a black Republican you don’t just roll into it. You’re not going with the flow. You have fought against probably your family members, probably your neighbors, you have thought everything out and that’s why we have very impressive blacks in our party." -- Ann Coulter
Dear Miss Ann,
Your statement brought me up short. My first reaction was "have American racial politics been reduced to an old Ken-L-Ration dog food jingle?!":
My black's better than your black!
My black's better than yours!
My black's better 'cause he votes Republican!
My black's better than yours!
How can I adequately express my contempt for the concept that African-American members of the party that wrecked our economy, looted our treasury, killed and maimed thousands, committed human rights violations, scoffed at the rule of law, perverted the concept of representative democracy, facilitated financial criminality on a scale unseen since the nineteenth century, and threatens to destroy the effing United States Postal Service are somehow "better" than their Democratic counterparts?
Then, breakfast time rolled around, and the perfect argument against your contention
made its case...
This is Twig.
Twig is Republican...
He is not a Republican; he is Republican...
Twig is the most Republican mukkalukka I have ever met in my life. I’m not talking about that old-style, sane, responsible, reasonable, rock- ribbed, patriotic, “good-of-the-country” Republican that began disappearing thirty years ago. Hell, those poor people are so cowed and confused and embarrassed that I’m not sure they exist any more. No, Miss Ann. I’m talking about you and your kind of Republican. That crazy-assed, slack-jawed, fact-free, can't-carry-on-an-actual-discussion, pathological Republican; the kind of Republican that has brought our country a brand of disaster that only good old Right-Wing American Lunacy could engineer. I’m talking the kind of Republican about which one of your own presidents warned us:
Should any political party attempt to abolish social security, unemployment insurance and eliminate labor laws and farm programs, you would not hear of that party again in our political history. There is a tiny splinter group, of course, that believes that you can do these things. Among them are a few Texas oil millionaires, and an occasional politician or businessman from other areas. Their number is negligible and they are stupid. -- President Dwight D. Eisenhower (1954)
If Ike had nailed that any harder, his wife might have left him.
Now, Twig knows nothing about Dwight Eisenhower and Twig couldn’t tell Mitt Romney
from an elm tree (which isn’t entirely fair; the only way I can tell them apart is that the tree can keep a position for more than fifteen minutes). Twig doesn’t prefer Herman Cain or Rick Prairie or Ron Paul. Barack Obama cuts no ice with Twig. Twig only has one cause/issue/thing on his mind: Twig.
His internal dialogue goes something like yours: Me! Me! Me! Me! Me! Me! Me! Me!
Me!
(I'll pause a moment to let the reverb die down...)
Twig shares digs with two Schnauzers twice his size, and two even bigger humans. See that furrow in his brow? It's almost always there. Worry puts that furrow there; worry that somewhere, somehow, someone or some-thing is either eating food or receiving affection that rightfully belongs to him. There is no trick that's too dirty for Twig to pull in service to his cause.
That's Republican.
It occurred to me that meal time will always be hell for Twig because he will never accept the idea that the smaller dog gets less food. Twig will give me stink-eye every time I feed him because he knows that the schnauzers have more food than he does. His answer? He speed-eats the tasty bits, then lurks around the schnauzers, in turn, in case one of them gets tired or generous or drops dead before finishing dinner. It is only when the schnauzers are done eating that he races back to his bowl to lick everything out of it-- including the smell.
How Republican is that? Reagan Republican!
His favorite trick is "The External Threat." He'll raise the alarm bark, get the other two
dogs riled up, scramble halfway toward the front door, and return to clean up whatever bones or chew toys that might happen to be laying around and were previously being enjoyed by the others; it's like he learned it at George W. Bush's knee. No matter the day or the hour: Twig is always looking out for Number One. Just like your whole stinking, corrupt, degenerate, horror movie of a party, Miss Ann.
There's a big difference between your party and Twig, though: Twig doesn't know any
better. He may be a greedy, self-centered little asshole with no impulse control, but he plays his part in the pack 24/7 and he does it without malice and without injuring anyone.
That's more than can be said for you, your party, and "your blacks."
--R
4:12 PM PT: Twig has commented: He chewed the fly buttons and metal clasp off my dress pants while I was working on this...