NEOCON: [liberals] ..have a stong streak of cowardice.. these people are far less willing to examine their assumptions than the .. neocons..
TBOGG: I didn't spend the afternoon of 9/11 flushing away my beliefs ..in a piddle-stained panic. So please spare me [this BS] ...from the man who is one [noise] away from turning into a ..puddle of pee.
You wanna run into the arms of the ..steely-eyed rocket man? Be my guest. But ..don't come crying to me.
Welcome To The New Gay
NeoCon-ism is the new gay. Former "progressives", haggard and bloodied from a dinner party too far, are debating coming out of the closet into the light of day and pausing to reflect on whether it is better to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous eye-rolling or to take arms against a sea of smirks and derisive laughter. Being neocons, though, they're not so much the 'taking up arms' types, preferring others to do the fighting while they navel-gaze and give their martyr gland a stiff work-out.
Let's start with Bookworm who lives with the private shame that she's right...and everyone else on Wisteria Lane is left:
Although I realize that my journey to the right began before 9/11, there is no doubt that 9/11 was my moment to cross the Rubicon. I won’t detail that decision... so many others have done it better than I (some good examples being David Horowitz,...
How did I react to my change? With silence. You see, having lived a lifetime on the Left myself, I instantly realized that my new outlook would not be greeted as an intellectual curiosity, to be questioned politely and challenged through reasoned argument.
Because, you see, until 9/11 Bookworm was on the side that didn't fight fair and was impolite and intellectually incurious, but 9/11 made her realize that these things were not virtues. And it took the deaths of three thousand people to give her the courage to admit that her life was a lie...just not enough courage to admit it to anyone else. Well, I've always said the hardest part of self-martyrdom is getting that last nail in.
Then we have neo-neocon who wants to say it kind-of loud, she's neocon and she's proud:
There are really two reasons I've decided to speak out to friends. The first is..perhaps that old liberal notion: authenticity. Or maybe honesty. [Those ridiculous liberal habits are hard to shed, heh ? -- law]
The second reason ..it's not about me. It's this: if I don't speak up, and if people like me ... don't speak up and "out" ourselves, then it simply perpetuates the myths of those who consider The Other Side to be monstrous.
Just like having a liberal patiently explain to you that Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11 will make you question why exactly we invaded them, which may lead you to question what kind of country we have become where we started condoning illegal wiretapping, holding people against their will without right to counsel, just how much torture is too much torture, and does the president get to do anything he wants just because he makes us feel all safe and warm and keeps the trains running on time. Later we can have that discussion about cronyism, choice, bad science, incompetence, secrecy, welfare for the weathy, and incipient theocracy.
Oh. That's right. We're at war. All else is vanities. Carry on.
Lastly we take up the case of the Grandfather of 9/11 Conversion, Roger L Simon:
Pardon my bluntness, but screw on some cojones. If you lose friends who are so pathetically stupid (and mired in projection) to think world affairs revolve around the putative lack of intelligence of George Bush.. those friends probably are not nearly as bright as you thought they were - certainly nowhere near as emotionally or morally sophisticated. Also, they have a stong streak of cowardice. As neo-neocon knows well and has written extensively, these people are far less willing to examine their assumptions than the Bookworms of the world for fear of their own personality disintegrations.
Now I may not be as "emotionally or morally sophisticated" as Roger L Simon, but then I didn't spend the afternoon of 9/11 flushing away my beliefs and convictions in a piddle-stained panic. So please spare me the "cojones" and "cowardice" locker room speech from the man who is one car backfire away from turning into a fedora floating in a puddle of pee.
You wanna run into the arms of the big strong steely-eyed rocket man? Be my guest. But when he picks your pocket, steals you car and leaves you high and dry in some cheap motel near Waco, don't come crying to me.
There's no there there. Even for the legendary creator of Moses Wine.