There is currently an article on a still-pretentious, never-influential conservative website titled thusly, and you may Google it if you really want the link because I ain't doing it:
The Royal Baby Is a Rejection of the Family Chaos Liberalism Feeds Upon
It is a very,
very solid entry into at least three separate conservative genres. Genre the first: the bold but staggeringly generic positioning of conservatism as a pure opposition to "liberalism", whatever "liberalism" is perceived to be at the time. Genre the second: the absolute conviction among conservatives that liberals give two shits about any number of things that nobody, anywhere really gives two shits about, and that furthermore these various random fragments of pop culture, counter culture, or button-themed folk art are secretly driving liberals into a rage. Genre the third: that this imaginary rage that nobody else can quite discern is in fact evidence that conservatives are teh awesome, in that the conservative writer can cleverly dismember the imaginary rage over the thing nobody gives two shits about and, in his
own rage over the imaginary rage over the thing nobody gives two shits about, can prove the conservative victory on the point. You will recognize all three genres by the inability to cite any credible "liberals" saying any such things, and you know you have reached the height of the genre when no credible liberal reading the piece was even aware that anyone, anywhere had an opinion on the thing that anyone else needed to give two shits about. As we will see below the fold, this receives high marks on all counts.
The birth of Prince George creates a problem for liberals. They love the idea of royalty because it validates their vision of an anointed elite with a divine right to the obedience of their subjects. However, this wonderful couple has created a traditional nuclear family that provides a powerful counterpoint to the kind of freak show dysfunction that liberalism requires to survive.
Now, we could spend some time dissecting this. We could point out the various, shall we say
flaws in this apparently hard-won little feat of internal mental gymnastics. But I am not going to, because the premise is so random and silly that it verges on idiocy for anyone else in the world, like poor unlucky me, me of the assigned beat that looks to all the crackpot's crackpots and has to file them and rank them all, to even acknowledge that it exists. Instead, I am going to simply say this to the ostensible Knower of Various Things: I hate you.
I hate that you have reminded me that people as dumb as this exist, and that they believe things as dumb as this with at least enough conviction to piddle them out onto the printed page. I hate that you have made the entire world measurably dumber with this single contribution to pseudo-punditry, and I hate the ripples of belligerent stupidity that waft out from the page, threatening to infect all that lay eyes on it. I hate you for taking a subject that truly, no thinking human possibly gives two shits about except as minor cultural circus act and turning it into an unfortunate decoupage of Things You Think Other People Are Thinking. I hate you for reminding me, once again, of just how very, very devoid of rational thought the pseudo-punditry class is. I hate you for making me wistful for the days of well-spoken racist bastards like William Buckley, who for his every rancid fault at least had two separate neurons in his head to rub together. I hate that going to read your little story reminded me that, despite all other media evidence, Michelle Malkin apparently still exists—I had presumed that by now she had drowned in her own spittle, and I was quite content in believing it. You, you who puts "personally recruited by Andrew Breitbart" in your explicatory byline blurb, the journalistic equivalent of putting as recruited by Typhoid Mary on your nursing school application.
You have broken me. You have broken any remaining will to treat the conservative movement as anything but the bleatings of a flock of angry sheep peeved that the mean shepherd won't let them jump into every river, pit, old well and abandoned knife and sickle supply warehouse that they happen to run across. In presuming that the newly announced presence of a ham-sized lump of highly credentialed meat has a deeper symbolic resonance that brings down the various shantytowns of collectivism, redistribution, liberal royalty-humping and anti-conservative notions of family that you have constructed in your own head, you have personally endumbed the wider American psyche by at least three percentage points in a few scant paragraphs, and I am left wondering if, in the hereafter, this will be the single event that has St. Peter reading to you from the book of your past life, laughing hysterically to himself, tears rolling down his cheeks, as he decides which side of the ledger deserves to have this single literary apocalypse stapled to it for eternity.
If families actually stayed together and raised their children, well, who would need the liberal elite?
Be like the royal family as policy statement? Now that is an argument made with all the precision and finesse of a chimp wielding a hot branding iron. I cannot wait to put posters up in all the homeless shelters of the nation, in all the unemployment offices, in all the chemotherapy centers:
If you were like William and Kate, would you be in this mess? Let that be a lesson to you, American moocher class.
By contributing to society, Prince William repudiates the basic premise of liberalism. If you vote for liberals they will redistribute free stuff to you from the people who contribute to society.
I am not going to even respond to it. I can't. The notion of the British royal family as noble figures that demolish outrageous notions of taking tax money from people to unfairly support the lifestyles of other people—it is too much to even argue with. It is seven fields and six broken fences beyond satire, and in the seventh field there is an old bull, too bewildered to even know whether he should be charging the thing.
Society should stop being coy, and it needs to stop worrying that people will be offended. It should say, loudly and unequivocally, that you shouldn’t have kids if you aren’t married to a guy who’s not going to disappear when things get real.
Now the bull is walking away. The bull doesn't even want to know what's going on; the bull has decided to take up a career in the aluminum siding business instead.
You should be ashamed if you are a jobless felon shacked up with some deadbeat sperm donor who is milking Uncle Sucker while your kids wonder what it’s like to have a real father. […]
Concurrently, we need to model good behavior. Prince William and Kate Middleton should use their position and their visibility to hammer home the truth that solid families are the model to be emulated instead of merely one option in a smorgasbord of equally valid familial arrangements.
I cannot possibly disagree with this. That there are still children, in this day and age, that choose not to be born into British royalty is one of the biggest outrages of the times. That broken homes exist or that the victims of deadbeat fathers do not simply use their powers under the British Crown to resolve the situation is, clearly, an indictment of the liberal frame of mind that proposes these people be entitled to a bare minimum of food anyway; the only thing that holds more blame would possibly be feminism, which you did not mention. Oh? You are about to mention it? You have my apologies, then.
Socially, radical feminist influence has led to men being viewed as incompetent buffoons when they aren’t violent exploiters. All men are either Homer Simpson or Ted Bundy.
This is categorically untrue. There are some people who manage to marry the dull stupidity of a Homer Simpson with the sociopathy of a Ted Bundy very well indeed, thank you. They go on to have quasi-illustrious careers writing about how the Royal Meatloaf discredits American poverty programs, and the other Homer Bundys out there eat it up, thinking it the most brilliant thing they ever laid eyes upon because it allows them to be both intellectual halfwits
and sociopathic little monsters without having to lift a finger on either front.
We need to make it so that the novelty of the birth of someone like Prince George is that he is part of a royal family, rather than that he is part of any family at all.
I don't care. I truly, sincerely cannot possibly express the extent to which I do not care about the ideological questions raised by the birth of even the most charming possible of foreign royal babies. I do not care about what Balloon Boy says about American agricultural policy. I do not care to hear how the fashion choices of this or that Disney princess show the inarguable flaws in American regulatory structure. I do not care, and I will continue to not care, and the only thing that will rile me to care is when some boneheaded, paste-licking crayon scribbler manages to draw out a written cartoon that so perfectly demonstrates the boundless, unending void of non-thought that a once-major political movement now chains themselves to that I have no choice but to use it as Princely Example of The Genre. If you are of the honest opinion that His Royal Poopiness being born into a good family marks both a devastating ideological blow to your shaken political opponents and an example to be emulated by all the non-royal babies out there who stupidly lack the same good judgment, there is not one damn thing I will do to dissuade you from it. Far from it, in fact, and
God Save the Future King besides.
