that bitter guy mental hygiene enthusiasts
scorn -- a cankered, unempathic, self-absorbed turtle,
completely beyond reclamation.
The inbite of lifelong failure will often do that
to a mirror-stage dropout.
So who am I then to cast stones
when I puddle up some feckless cast-iron prose oddity?
But then arrives Ms Digby's anointing:
... and I can't help it, I cast stones as fast as I can.
Why at her in particular, so recently bronzed
as the official hood ornament
for all prog-blog leapers across America?
Let me put it to you this way:
it's like finding your grinless silent fast-departing pimple-sized audience
is not laffin' or diggin' it 'cause the fuckers are just stone deaf.
In the land of the deaf and dumb, Digby is queen.
She's the beltway pundits'
platonic form of a netroots insurgent,
and for the best of reasons: she's a fuckin' high-C fool,
just the ticket for the corporate party lite's co-opt act.
In Herself's 'umble "I accept this for all of us" speech
for the mediocrity-of-the-year award linked to above,
our gal reveals -- in a compact sort of way --
much of what lies behind the triple-bolted Green Door.
This award exposes by her very selection
the internet dirty-tricks detour sign
set up to divert the flow of the coming mass rising
of the mittelstand jobbler zillions.
It's to be staffed by these Digby, Donatello and Stoller types.
They and their familiars
will be the phalanx of false prophets
promoted by the corporate-sponsored MSM
guide to the netroots.
But enough of generality – let's dive in.
Here's an example of darling Ms Digby's fatuous preening
(try to chew this, you melancholy curs):
We [prog-bloggers] are, in short, something of an enigma. I like to call this phenomenon--irrational fear of hippies which has, in my view, become--irrational fear of political passion.
Something of an enigma? To whom, good hearted crusader, are y'all
any sort of "enigma"? For fucksake, Lassie could size you up.
And exactly in whose evil heart have you sown "fear" of your "passion"?
How Blanche Dubois you are, my dear... passion passion passion!
One sniffles in nervous embarrassment at this flowering into divahood.
How predictable is it that a closet histrionic might suddenly
explode into unbecoming self-display upon the receipt of a statuette.
Our gal points out,
... passion sometimes manifests itself as anger.... how can you not be angry,
when [get set for the Sunday punch -O.P.]
So many institutions have failed us in the last decade.... [B]eing
vitriolic seems the only sane response.
Indeed it is, if you plan on doing nothing about it.
And if we need to wax "vitriolic" – then what a venue the internet portal
Out there, through its wires, waiting in their cubicles,
are all us fellow-travellers aboard Spaceship Myfuckinjobsucks,
primed for a political passion movement, and it's wild, baby, wild!
If you have something to say you can say it -- and if it touches a chord,
people will return time and again to read what you've written
and discuss the issues of the day with others
who are reading the same things.
At any rate she's dead right here --
all it takes is a 'net hookup to join one of a jillion digital prog
out there in Virtualistan,
Every village has a special smile all its own, but they all have in common that everybody's dressed anyhow, and largely from
So come join us and be welcomed! -- at least so long as your head's inside the same rainbow, so to speak.
Just what, according to Digby, is the deep shared structural motive
of all these conspicuously bright-colored conspiring conclaves?
All of us who blog in the progressive blogosphere, have a common goal.... We want to... take back America.
Wait! Wait! Stop the march music! “Take back America”?
Back from who? (Or do I mean whom?)
Why, from Dick Cheney and company -- Darth Amerika as opposed to “our” America.
Okay, swell, let's give it a whirl -- but first, my dear, tell me why
all these "institutions" have "failed us" in the first place.
Now I agree, institutions everywhere – publical, civical, academical,
foundational, corporational, NPO, NGO, arpeggio -- they've all "failed" us
-- but did they fail themselves?
Was it a case of mass institutional capture
by black-hat Darths,
cheered on by the likes of Bill Bennett and Martin Feldstein? Or was it something... much worse?
Advice to you, my queen, before you ride out agin' 'em with your posse of
well-intended white-bonneted ronin --
first uncover the full dimensions of this Darth Amerika you are fixin' to wrest
institutional power from.
And start by checking right there inside your own headgear.
Imagine we are all Darth Amerika's pod people. It's kinda like the
total depravity doctrine of classical Calvinism. You gotta figure,
since we're all infected,
Darth Amerika's agents, aware or unaware, are already
inside every big or little tent, behind every curtain --
not just up there in every tower office,
but down below, too, in every cellar hideout,
waiting, and watching, and ready to talk up a gibberish storm.
To be specific: check out this plague-carrying meme
emerging from your own mellifluous throat:
We all agree that Islamic terrorism is a threat, but one which we cannot
meet with military power alone.
Now that right there, all by itself,
will send you on a permanent set of bummer head trips.
There's something called “terrorism”? Islamic
terrorism? A "threat"? Military power -- alone
Yikes! Kill the pig! Kill the pig!
If you buy that crap,
then you are a Darth bot, an agent in good standing
of black-hat Amerika.
Say this to yourself over and over:
There is no terrorist threat to nice decent America -- only to Darth Amerika! Digby! The use of the Darth empire's military power is never justified!"
Do it, gal! You gotta purge, baby, purge! Free your mind of corporate
Exorcise yourself --
the unexorcised life is not worth living.
Go vomit up all this corporate bile, all this satanic alphabet soup,
you've swallowed over the years, just like all the rest of us.
Then go ahead, be fuckin' "passionate".