Quoth the Moron, in a post declaring the 12-year-old Graeme Frost "fair game":
A more basic point is made very robustly by Kathy Shaidle: Advanced western democracies have delivered the most prosperous societies in human history. There simply are no longer genuinely "poor" people in sufficient numbers. As Miss Shaidle points out, if you're poor today, it's almost always for behavioral reasons - behavior which the state chooses not to discourage but to reward. Nonetheless, progressive types persist in deluding themselves that there are vast masses of the "needy" out there that only the government can rescue.
Yep. We don't have any poor people who can't afford insurance, 'cept for losers-- it's all a fiction of the left-wing media. Sorry you have to die, kids, but your parents made bad behavioral choices. Sucks to be you.
Seriously, Steyn is all about the children. He's been primarily obsessed with how whitey isn't having enough of them, thereby dooming Europe and eventually America to a future society made up of the unpleasantly overtanned. And then, burkas for all! One would think that that would be reason enough to make sure the children we've got now stay healthy, at least until their own childbearing years when we can breed 'em like pasty white cattle and be done with them. But whatever: once you've disavowed the very existence of the unwillingly poor, I think perhaps you ascend to a different plane of reality than the rest of us. (I bet it smells like brownies.)
As added bonus, I'll leave you with some of the celebrated age-old parenting wisdom of Mark Steyn, the man who for three years has seen victory in Iraq behind every tree and mailbox. This sort of stuff is why he gets his own columns...
If I were Papa Smurf, I wouldn't want Baby Smurf to grow up in Saddam's Iraq. I don't mean just because we'd be the beleaguered minority of Smurfistan, to be gassed and shovelled into mass graves.
Even if we were part of Saddam's own approved class living in the Smurfi Triangle, it's still a life permanently fixed between terror and resignation, in which all a parent's hopes for his children are subordinate to the whims of a psycho state.
Oh, yeah. Taste the insight, you bastards.