Tuesday, 23 March 2010

Andy McCarthy on the moral superiority of cheaters. Over on The Corner, Andy McCarthy unwittingly claims that Democrats are morally superior to Republicans: I know we tire of the hypocrisy, but I really think this is remarkable. We spent the eight years through January 19, 2009, listening to Democrats complain that President Bush had purportedly caused a constitutional crisis by issuing signing statements when he signed bills into law. Democrats and Arlen Specter (now a Democrat) complained that these unenforceable, non-binding expressions of the executive’s interpretation of the laws Bush was signing were a usurpation Congress’s power to enact legislation. But now Democrats are going to abide not a mere signing statement but an executive order that purports to have the effect of legislation—in fact, has the effect of nullifying legislation that Congress is simultaneously enacting? Democrats, he argues, were correct when they complained that signing statements were “unenforceable, non-binding expressions of the executive’s interpretation of the laws [and] a usurpation Congress’s power to enact legislation.” They were right to complain when the Bush administration appended them to legislation, but now they must defend the very principles conservatives have never had and stop President Obama from appending anything to H.R. 3590 when he signs it into law or be branded rank hypocrites. Consider this in baseball terms: It’s the top of the first, and McCarthy and likeminded conservatives—we’ll call them the Yankees—stride to the plate with a Reebok Vector O. When the liberal pitcher complains, the umpire merely shrugs his shoulders and shouts, “Play ball!” The pitcher opens with a wicked 12 to 6 curve over the heart of the plate. McCarthy stares at the mound in disbelief, then turns and says something to the umpire, who walks to the mound and informs the pitcher that there will be no more quote, bendy pitches, unquote. “What?” “You heard me,” the umpire replies. “McCarthy can’t hit anything but four-seamers, so that’s what you need to throw.” Dumbfounded, the pitcher steps on the rubber and launches a 95 m.p.h. four-seamer down the chute. McCarthy throws his hands in the air and again complains to the umpire, who again approaches the mound. “How is he supposed to hit a 95 m.p.h. fastball?” “Not very well, actually, is the idea” the pitcher replies. “I don’t want to see the gun touch anything over 80 from now on, we clear?” “You want me to throw batting practice fastballs?” “I don’t want you to, I’m telling you to,” the umpire says as he makes his way back to the plate. Needless to say, by the time the liberals record three outs, the Yankees are up by twenty-seven. In the dugout, the liberals notice that the grounds crew is not only relocating the mound 50 ft. from home plate, but raising it five inches; moreover, the Yankees’s starting pitcher is heading to the mound with a jar of Vaseline and an industrial sander. When they complain, the Yankees insist that this this non-regulation mound is actually regulation, and that they’re not doctoring balls so much...
What do you do in the wake of a crushing political defeat? If you’re Jeff Goldstein, you declare yourself to be way cooler than everyone else; if you’re Darleen Click, you draw a cartoon in which the President rapes a woman, then tells her that he and friends will be back to rape her again later. In the clinical sense, Click is the more interesting case because she thinks that the only problem with her cartoon is that it’s racist. I repeat: she drew a cartoon in which the punch line is a gang rape and the only potential problem with it she can see is that it might be racist. Don’t misunderstand me: it’s plenty racist—plays into tropes as old as slavery and everything—but the punch line is that the President and his associates are going to gang-rape the Statue of Liberty with, I kid you not, immigration reform. In service of the cheapest of laughs, Click asserts that the statue that symbolizes America’s commitment to the tired, poor, huddled masses of the world is about to be raped because of the President’s commitment to those selfsame masses-yearning-to-be-free. Talk about your industrial grade ideological incoherence—and I would, except for the fact that Goldstein, never one to be upstaged on his own blog, told a woman that the only way she would ever be cool was if someone raped her with an icicle. That’s not true, though. Goldstein never said that. What he said, and I quote, was: For instance, here’s Nishi, whose only hope of ever really touching cool would be to pay somebody to fuck her once with an ice dong. Such are the depths to which Goldstein sinks to maintain the illusion that he’s cool, which is sad, you know, because he’s a middle-aged man worried about whether people think he’s cool. Then, in yet another example of just how over me he is, he declares me to be the exemplar of uncool. Far be it for me, a 32-year-old blogger who sports a backwards Mets cap and is currently writing a scholarly book about comics, to complain when someone says I’m not cool, because honestly, I’m not cool. I grew up, got a job, and am working for the Man; however, forty-something bloggers who alternate between whining about how poorly jobs they don’t have pay and writing 10,000-word-long semiotic screeds about Alinksy and catch-wrestling? Not cool. Doesn’t matter how many people whose favorite film is Mr. Smith Goes to Washington say otherwise, because them? Also not cool. But you know what really, really isn’t cool? Unsubtle threats of politically motivated violence against women: I predict Nishi will look very surprised the first time she’s knocked down by someone who doesn’t much like the glee she takes in the losses of freedom we’re undergoing. I predict Nishi won’t have as much fun playing the griefer game once it becomes obvious that while she’s playing a game, many of us are not. I predict that Nishi doesn’t know who she’s fucking with. I predict Nishi will soon find it best...

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