Like a lot of bloggers, I have a habit of skimming about 5 newspaper headlines, 10 magazines, and a score of op-eds before actually getting anything done at work. And here I am now, typing away at my own stab at witty commentary as the clock on the corner of my screen edges towards 11:40 am.
Never mind that. I look at the New Republic website just about every day, and just about every day I am disappointed by the milquetoast, self-effacing nattering about what's wrong with Democrats, why Republicans have their act together, and why, when it comes to our chances in the upcoming elections (or any forseeable one anywhere) we should be as expectant of disappointment as the average French existentialist writer would have been in Gaullist Paris circa 1967. And these weenies write this as the president has become so desperate for friends that, instead of the usual solitary brush cutting and mountain biking accidents, he's actually reading Camus on his 5th vacation this year to his Crawford ranch. You want French Fries with that, Mr. Pres?
This stuff is so good, you can't even make it up. Yet, the New Republic, in its ever-earnest attempt at fairminded consideration of all the facts, points-of-view and utterly safe contrarian opinions has gone just a little too far this time. It's proven to be the ultimate existentialist publication-- lacking in any ideological heading on the compass, deferring any emotional grounding in a point of view for some greater meaning of being; to be both nothing and everything.
Hey TNR people: in politics, unlike certain literary interpretations of the meaning of life, this everything-and-nothing strategy is just plain nothing.
In a magazine representing a center-leftist point of view, I find an article titled, "A defense of Ann Coulter" where the author relates her own experience working on an assembly line in some "deep red" state. In bonding with the endearing yet provincial conservatives, she comes to some realization about the emotional necessity of someone who, though she rails rabidly and distastefully against her own points of view without mercy, is in fact filling an understandable and necessary role. My interpretation: The author makes the case that someone who spends her time defending Joe McCarthy when she isn't being crass is somehow performing a public service.
Well pardon my French, but what kind of merde de toro is this?
How can a magazine that claims to have a political point of view come to the rescue of someone who repeatedly and vociferously calls them traitors, cowards, and dare I say? Liberals. (thunder clap, horses winney here) She doesn't need your chivalry, and is not interested in being sportsmanlike. Let the National Review and the Weekly Standard waste column-inches on her, if they'll even go near it. Chances are, they're too busy making real stands on issues through lean, poignant analysis of the day's events. That's what partisan journalism is good for. It makes me ashamed that I'm now guilty of the same kind of criticism of Democratic institutions and the overrespect for our enemies' points of view, but there is something wrong-- if not with the message, then with the weak delivery. Let's try and recover here...
TNR: If you don't like her, ignore her. She likes getting a rise out of you almost as much as she likes it when you come to her defense. You're fitting snuggly into the tired old yarn of the sad woman with the black eye who tells you she deserved it, or the kid who gets pummeled by bullies and believes he had it coming. Justice will prevail only when your attitude changes. You can't change theirs by being nice.
The old, unwise shotgun marriage between Republicans and Democrats has been through counseling, taken separate vacations, and had their affairs on the side. The kids are out of the house and now it's time to call it quits. Time to be partisan, guys. Time not just to demand half, but to take the bastards for all they are worth. Get on with it, lick your wounds, hire the best attack dog lawyer daytime TV commercials have to offer, and make your case.
Many people who are worried about where America and the world is going are counting on you. Make a stand for once in your life, you ivy league know-it-all weenies.
And now for a personal message:
Franklin Foer, editor-in-chief of TNR, this is for you. When we were kids back in DC 20+ years ago we used to hang out in the alley behind our houses, remember? It was us, the scrawny Jewish brainiacs. And it was them, the weird pasty redneck kids (Chippie, Robbie...) Remember how they would chase us up and down that alley? Envision a 2x4 with a rusty nail in it, gripped firmly in your clammy hands. See the twins close in you, patiently circling their prey. Channel some of that rage now, please! There's a war on.
Looking over the comments on TNR's site in response to this article, there's a mix of thoughtful arguments for or against the writer's point of view, intermingling with a sizeable number of "I'm cancelling my subscription" type-comments. Frankie, if I were actually a subscriber, I'd post this message on TNR's site, and cancel it myself.
For crying out loud, you're the editor-in-chief of a major political weekly... the biggest, gnarliest 2x4 a guy like you or me could ever hope to have.
Take a swing, Frankie. People are pissed.
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