Dear Keith:
You don't know me, and the chances of you ever reading this rank somewhere in-between non-existent and none whatsoever. However, it's been on my heart and mind to say these things since yesterday evening. Hopefully the message will get to you, somehow.
First off, when it comes to politics I suspect you and I agree on pretty much nothing. You've flown your liberal colors for all to see, while I am redder than red. I make no apology for that, or for the "Palin in '12" button on my cubicle wall at the day job. You've certainly never apologized for your views. Which is your right. Be who and what you are without compromise. There is no other way to live.
Despite our political differences, I did watch Countdown from time to time. I freely admit doing so evoked a lot of head shaking, a few facepalms and the occasionally muttered, "Dude. Seriously?"
It also made me wonder where Keith Olbermann went.
See, when you and Dan Patrick were together on SportsCenter I seldom missed a show. I didn't know about your political leanings back then. Frankly, I wouldn't have cared. You were witty, articulate and informative. Granted, sports is almost always a far lighter subject than politics and lends itself more toward a comedic overview. Yet even with that, whenever I watched Countdown I lamented the lack of wit you exhibited.
You remind me of my favorite contemporary band, an English progressive rock ensemble named Marillion. I doubt you've heard of them. Anyway, in their lengthy career to the best of my recollection they've produced only one of the sixteen studio records they've released. Now, let me again emphasize I love the band. I own everything they've released. I routinely listen to all of their albums...
... except one.
The one they produced themselves.
Why?
It's a terrible record.
Despite all the band's skill, when left solely to their own devices they made a terrible botch of it. It was sloppy, self-indulgent and came off as though they believed anything they recorded was a masterpiece and needed nothing, as well as no one, else. Wrong.
Anyway, apparently they learned their lesson and resumed using an outside producer with their next record, which was superb. A few years after, the band put out a limited edition release for members of their fan club which contained some odds and ends. Two of the songs were from the recording session of the album they produced which were subsequently re-recorded for the next album. The original versions were dreadful enough, but when compared to the brilliance that shone through them on the next album the difference became even more apparent. Same songs, arranged and performed in very similar fashion. Yet one recording was a disaster; the other, a triumph.
Your work on Countdown reminded me of that one self-produced album. Regardless of whether I agreed with you, you had the ability and forum to, with your intelligence and eloquence, set forth the liberal viewpoint. You had the opportunity to explain not only the same whats that every other talking head expounds on ad nauseum, but the whys behind them. Again, regardless of agreement there would at the least have been something of substance available. Something to consider. Something delivered with intelligence and wit.
Instead, far too often you gave us lamentable, lampoonable excess.
What you needed was a foil; someone who whenever you'd start veering off course would turn you back toward sanity. Someone who'd challenge your assertions; someone who'd play devil's advocate and ask trenchant questions demanding an answer. I know the show had producers and directors and such, but was anyone there ever standing up and calling you out when you were going off the rails?
I encourage you to take this time to reflect and examine your mindset. Take your beliefs and shake them to the core. Accept nothing at face value. Ask questions of yourself. Why do you believe what you believe? Why does the other side believe what they believe? Throw out the hatred; abandon the clichés. Especially the ones you hold about and of others. Use the brains God gave you not to condescendingly dismiss the opposition, but to honestly and openly examine where they are coming from. Reject cheap demonization of anyone. There are no worst people in the world. We are all created in God's image. We are all sinners. We are all in need of a loving Savior. Including you.
I take no delight in you losing your job. It saddens me how many with whom I am politically affiliated are taking delight in your misfortune. It's cheap, crude and class. There's nothing in it that embodies the "we're better than you liberal haters" mentality so widely shared. I'm sorry they feel that way.
One day, I'd love to take in a ball game with you, watching my beloved Oakland A's and talking about baseball. You know the game so well. It's be a treat. Should politics come up, while I wouldn't budge I would be courteous enough to give you a genuine listen. Hopefully you'd return the favor.
As I said at the beginning, I have zero expectations of you ever reading this. Sometimes, though, you have to say what's been pressed on you to say regardless of whether it reaches the target audience. Or any audience at all. God knows what we've said. It's Him I want to please. I believe part of doing so is in this letter.
Take care and God bless, Keith.
[caption id="attachment_27450" align="aligncenter" width="495" caption="The cover of "Homecoming" by America, which was released in 1972. The record included the song 'California Revisited,' which was originally titled 'Everyone I Meet is from California.'"]  [/caption]
We iPhone users tend to be a rather insular lot, albeit benignly so. It's not that we believe ourselves to be better than everyone else who uses a lesser phone. Rather, we reside in the easy confidence of secure knowledge that our phone is so much better than anything owned by anyone else, it's barely worth a mention due to its raging obviousness.
One feature of the iPhone I've come to enjoy is that whether you're using the iPod function or any one of the available streaming audio apps, should you choose to not plug in the headphones it functions as a very serviceable emulation of an old-fashioned transistor radio. Back in the 1960s and early 1970s they were all the rage, with their little squawky speaker, static-laden on/off volume dial and earphone jack complete with white wired earphone that when you weren't busy misplacing came in oh so handy for running up inside your sleeve and into your ear, cleverly hidden from view by resting your head in your hand with it cupped over your ear, all done with the intent of appearing to pay a fair amount of attention in class. Alas, not an option during short-sleeve weather, but perfectly applicable at other times. Now, decades later, through the magic of modem technology we can… do the same thing, albeit with far better sound quality. Or, should the mood strike one can use their iPhone or iPod Touch as a radio, listening to the tiny speaker at the bottom that courtesy of countless hours dedicated to advancing the cause of improved audio sounds exactly like a transistor radio. Minus the squawk and static.
This came to mind when I was spending a few quiet moments on this rainy, dreary Sunday morn in the San Francisco Bay Area doing the dishes, listening to a compilation of America via the speaker rather than headphones. I loved America (the band) in the 1970s, although I lost interest after Dan Peek left. My favorite records by them were their first three efforts, namely their self-titled debut, Homecoming and the sadly neglected Hat Trick which, after you get past the opening track ("Muskrat Love?" Seriously?) contains may excellent moments. This particular compilation runs in chronological order, thus before too long presents the tune "Everyone I Meet is from California" which was originally the B-side of "A Horse with No Name" when it was first released as a single, then was included on Homecoming under the title "California Revisited."
Considering the then three members of America met in England where they were military brats, and had relocated to Los Angeles only a short time before recording their second record, Homecoming is laced with southern Californian imagery that lyrically and musically meshes well with the mostly laid-back style of the Eagles, Linda Rondstadt and other purveyors of the then-nascent L.A. "Mellow Mafia." "Everyone I Meet is from California" is no exception. While lyrically it suggests one too many visits to the medicine jar ("In California you watch the shadow dancer / Floating gently, gently on the sea / In California you're such a strange romancer / Come and see me when the world has set you free"), the simple chorus stands out:
Everyone I meet is from California
There's dancing in the street in California
That was the early 1970s, though. Today, everyone you meet is from California, but the only dancing they're doing is high-stepping it out of town.
As a native Californian, it no longer astonishes me how so many in this state, one bountifully blessed by nature, have become deaf to reason. I've grown sadly used to such alleged thinking. The people of California who determine government, business and societal direction have swallowed their own hype, firmly believing that California's greatness cannot be damaged or destroyed by their actions. In this they are completely mistaken, utterly unaware of this being the case.
These people are committed to the philosophy that wealth is both to be obtained at all costs and the greatest of evils, something to be seized and redistributed to those unwilling to work toward bettering themselves. California is a nanny state on steroids, driving businesses away and mocking them as they leave for failure to be good citizens, never once stopping to note how their departure also means the loss of jobs and tax revenue. It preaches diversity but practices division, excuses all from personal responsibility and promotes itself as a godless church giving alms to the poor while not once noticing that not only in doing so does it keep them forever chained to government handouts, the donation basket is empty due to having driven away all followers from its pews.
There is no reason to believe any of this will change in the near future. Politically, the state is firmly in the hands of liberal Democrats who are blind to economic reality, forever beholden to overpaid and horribly over-pensioned state employees who accept no responsibility for the economic crisis. Unemployment is rampant due to the state's anti-business attitude and insanely excessive regulatory addiction. Taxes are obscene; the highest in the nation. The California GOP is pathetic, unable to find and support quality candidates that stay on message while speaking honestly about the state's problems. Sacramento gleefully doles out taxpayer dollars to illegal immigrants while strangling farms with inane environmental laws that solve nonexistent problems while creating authentic new ones. California is tens of billions of dollars in debt with no cohesive policy, let alone the courage, to do what is necessary to solve the problem: create jobs by easing regulations and slashing taxes while simultaneously making deep cuts across the board in government spending, starting with its state workers salaries and pensions. Instead, it will most likely beg for a federal bailout, which it won't get, and then either declare bankruptcy, hiding behind judicial decisions as to what will be done to relieve the debt, or simply default on what it owes to most everyone.
I know most everyone in the other 49 states hates California.
I also know why.
It used to be envy.
Now, it is deep burning anger at how a state once rich beyond compare has slit its own throat in the name of modern liberalism. In professing to care for all, California takes care of no one, let alone itself. And no song, no matter how dreamy or romantic about what was once the Golden State, can change the hideous truth about its rotting from within.
( Cross-posted at Liberty Pundits)
I've had the same New Year's resolution for the past several years, that being to not make any New Year's resolutions. Haven't broken it yet.
I do have goals at the beginning of each year, but have come to realize a surefire method of never achieving them is to announce them. Therefore, I'll keep my objectives for 2011 to myself.
Having said all that for the purpose of getting it out of the way, on to the actual topic of this post.
Lisa Graas, a dear sister in the Lord, was kind enough to alert me earlier today about a website ( klout.com) that through whatever metrics and measuring systems its creators use determines the impact a given individual on Twitter has on the overall discourse. It's semi-interesting; certainly something I'd put more stock in than any given online popularity contest. These usually masquerade as Top 10 or 25 lists. They serve no purpose other than stroking the ego of those selected, irritating those who aren't, and annoying everyone else who couldn't give a rip. Thankfully, they seem to be waning in popularity, which is a very good thing. But enough about that; back to klout.com.
According to the site, my present score is 46. Hardly earth-shattering, but to my surprise it's higher than the one sported by either Ace or Patterico, each of whom get more visits to their respective blog in a millisecond than I accumulate in a month. Think maybe I should start writing and promoting more? But I digress.
It's interesting what goes into determining whether someone is considered influential online. The usual measuring sticks are numbers: how many visitors to a blog, how many followers on Twitter. Certainly such things have their place. However, in the grand view of things, are they truly important? As has been said before, I've never seen a SiteMeter widget on a tombstone. Surely there's something better we can use.
But how can you measure the important things?
You can't, because so much of what transpires via social media that matters is what no one ever sees save those directly involved.
You don't get blog hits in response to saying a prayer for someone.
You don't get followers on Twitter as a result of reaching out to someone directly regardless of who they are or whether they share your political views, asking how they're doing and is there anything you can do for them... then doing it.
You don't get friends requests -- often -- on Facebook because you do the little things. Like answering an e-mail, or encouraging someone, or publicly praising someone who can't "do" anything for you in reaching your objectives.
However, you do get the satisfaction that comes solely from doing the right thing for the right reason.
Which is the best kind of influence one can hope to have.
There's something a trifle odd in how when you go to Amazon and use the search term "first and forgotten jerry wilson," while the book doesn't come up (hasn't been listed yet, alas) the first item that does come up is a DVD of "Walker, Texas Ranger." Well, I can certainly think of lesser people to be associated with than Chuck Norris.
As I've mellowed in my middle age, I've found myself increasingly reluctant to engage in blogger wars, be it as a direct combatant or third party entering the fray. They're seldom if ever fun, and they serve no purpose as other than those directly involved, pretty much no one on the face of this planet has the slightest interest in such things. I'm pretty sure no one on the face of any other planet gives a rip either, unless perchance Marvin the Martian sees something that makes him very angry. Very angry indeed. But I digress.
The above duly noted, there are times when a point of contention comes along that warrants mention as it touches on important themes beyond the immediate conflict and participants therein. Such is the case with the current kerfuffle between Stacy McCain and assorted leftist bloggers plus an unnamed Republican strategist. At least I think they're still unnamed.
The disagreement started with the rape charges being leveled against Julian Assange, he of WikiLeaks infamy. It's worth noting that were Assange a nobody, the case wouldn't be given so much as a second thought by either side. However, since he is a hero to the left via publishing classified documents which embarrass America, pretty much everyone has simultaneously dug into it and dug in their positions on the battlefront. None of which in any manner resemble Dug, as "I have just met you and I love you" is about the last thing one will hear from either side.
The expressed opinions on the Assange case seldom mention that setting aside the rape charges for a moment, by releasing classified material he has unquestionably broken the law. He has done so to a degree that a different administration would respond to his actions not with handwringing and vapid denouncements, but rather with Assange and cohorts encountering a series of unfortunate events the likes of which Lemony Snicket would never dare commit to paper. Alas, we presently have an administration which consistently brings a knife to a gun fight, apologizing for it being excessively sharp. But again I digress; back to the case at hand.
Basically, and again setting aside the specifics of the Assange case as thus far all any of us have to go on is he said/she said, the dispute runs along these lines:
- While making no excuse for, nor justification for nor condoning of rape, women who by their actions place themselves in a position where the possibility, or probability, of assault are higher than those who avoid such scenarios must accept as fact the responsibility for their actions increasing the likelihood that bad things will happen.
- Misogynistic pig.
Let's step back for a moment and examine the latter line of reasoning.
First, consider how in an increasingly ambiguous world when it comes to what is and is not considered acceptable behavior, the generally accepted line of thought is that when it comes to sex, there is no ambiguity. If at any time the woman says no, everything stops. Anything that takes place beyond "no" is forced, against her will and unacceptable. Fair enough.
However, what this fails to take into consideration is the event or series of events leading up to the "no" moment. If a woman wearing a little black number, fishnets and stilettos walks into a biker bar during dollar a beer night, focuses her attention on a walking Y chromosome with full-body tattoo, softly purrs she's always found him very attractive and let's go find someplace private, then during synchronized clothing removal says no… sorry, but that is a different scenario than some cretin walking up behind a woman as she's getting out of her car and putting a knife to her throat. You can argue that against ones will is against ones will regardless. Again, fair enough. But what did the woman attacked as she was quietly going about her life do to invite the attack? Nothing. What did the woman strolling into a bar dressed to be undressed do to invite the attack? Be stupid. Does that make it right if she's attacked? In no fashion. But there is a difference between what is right and reason. Or, in this case, the absence thereof. It is unreasonable for a woman to intentionally put herself in a high risk situation and believe she bears no responsibility for the risk increasing.
It cannot be emphasized enough that there is no condoning of violence against women, no "she was asking for it by dressing and acting like that" defense permitted. It also cannot be emphasized enough that not only failing to take normal, un-paranoid precautions against attack, but deliberately placing yourself in a position where the probability of an attack is dramatically higher, then claiming "no means no" means you are free from all responsibility, is yet another example of human mindset in rebellion against one of Christ's fundamental messages: forgiving sin doesn't mean you're not a sinner.
In this blogger war, I'm taking sides. McCain is right. Period.
And it'd be nice if more people emulated Dug once in a while.
( Also posted at Liberty Pundits)
I received a print copy of the October 2010 issue of Down the Line magazine the other day. It's the one with an interview with me in it. You can read it online here. Go ahead, I'll wait. ;-)
One of the questions I was asked dealt with if there was anyone I wanted to interview for the book but couldn't. My answer was simple: Gene Eugene. It occurred to me afterward that I probably should have restricted my answer to people presently available for interviewing, but at the time it seemed appropriate. Gene was a musical genius, and we are very much the less for his no longer being with us.
One of my favorite songs by him, recorded with his band Adam Again, is "All You Lucky People" from the band's final album Perfecta. To me, it resonates as the most brutally honest description of what it's like being a member of the odd little world of Christian rock:
will you give me a minute
and then show me an hour more
can you find something in it
that I can't ignore
I'm after it, I'm after it
and you'll know
I keep thinkin' about
all you lucky people
comin' by to say "hello"
hello
(that's all now, that's all now)
Won't you give me your secrets
and allow me a tale to sell
to the guests of the guilty
at the gates of hell
I'm after it, I'm after it
and you'll know
I keep lookin' at
all you lucky people
comin' around to say "hello"
hello
(so nice now, so nice now)
So then wait for a minute
I won't ask for a second more
we could find something in it
worth fighting for
I'm after it, I'm after it
and I know
I keep lookin' at
all you lucky people
stoppin' by to say "hello"
hello, hello, hello
I'm the same, you're the same
I'm the same, you're the same
I've got nothin', I've got nothin'
I've got nothin', but time now (etc.)
I was reminded of the song via being reminded of Gene today through a rather odd set of circumstances. He was on my mind because of First and Forgotten, the revised version of God's Not Dead (And Neither are We), a proof copy of which is winging its way toward me that will hopefully arrive in time for me to approve it (assuming there's nothing wrong) in time for it to go on sale tomorrow. Although I didn't know Gene personally -- I believe I spoke to him on the phone once back in the day -- there is still a sense of loss. Nothing compared to my aunt and Mom both passing away this year, mind you. Nevertheless, the regret remains viable.
Back to this morning.
Someone on Twitter I follow re-tweeted a note by someone else who sardonically noted that due to the tax deal recently worked out between President Obama and Congress, which will resurrect the inheritance tax starting next year, "you and yours have exactly 8 days to die tax free." Amusing, in a dark humor sort of way.
I tried to think of some kind of response noting how my aunt and Mom, both of whom were always very considerate of others, obviously took this into consideration by passing away in 2010. Dark humor warrants a reply in like kind. Unfortunately, due to the 140 character limitations in Twitter, the best I could come up with was a comment made with the hope those who read it would catch the unspoken inference.
Not everyone did.
I could have taken offense, but quickly concluded there was none intended. Nevertheless, a quiet notation of the facts was in order. The other person swiftly apologized, to which I replied noting no harm was intended; nothing but a simple misinterpretation. It happens.
Those of us who are members of the unfortunate fellowship, one where entrance is reserved exclusively to those who have said goodbye, hopefully always bear in mind that no one else is required to acquiesce to, or even acknowledge, our grief. Granted, it's nice when others express genuine sympathy, and it's natural to feel a little or a lot hurt when people are aware of what you're going through yet fail to offer so much as a simple "I'm sorry." But you can't force compassion out of someone.
Instead, in the manner of serving others as Christ teaches us, and as He did during His time on earth, we who are members of the unfortunate fellowship ought to seize the opportunity provided by the holidays to remind those who have yet to join our ranks that they should cherish these days. Not in a morbid sense of dreading what one day will come to pass. Rather, it should be a fully voiced celebration of life and love, one where every moment is savored and lived to the maximum.
We do not know what will happen tomorrow. We do know, and ought to live like we do know, that today is a precious gift to be enjoyed. Let these times stand as a reminder for when tears and loss come, for they are signs from our past of what will be in our future when our own absence is mourned, yet we ourselves will be rejoicing in sweet reunion with the ones we love, all in the presence of our Lord.
Have a blessed and beautiful Christmas, all you lucky people.
I don't mind when the vigilant call out morons who say stupid personal garbage about Sarah Palin. In fact, I applaud such efforts.
Now, can we return the favor?
Let's start calling out our own who say stupid personal things about Barack Obama.
Or Nancy Pelosi.
Or Harry Reid.
The list goes on.
See, I'm just crazy enough to believe that being a faithful witness for Christ is more important than political affiliation.
I also believe in the almighty power of an Almighty God.
If we live our faith, as Paul said being wise in the way we act toward outsiders, making the most of every opportunity and letting our conversations be always full of grace, seasoned with salt (I.e. knowledge and substance) so that we may know how to answer everyone, who knows what opportunities may arise?
We might have the chance to be a witness to those who occupy positions of political power.
Starting with a smile stemming from confidence in Christ, and the open hand extended even as His nail-scarred hand is extended to all.
I know I've written on this theme several times before, and no doubt will again.
But it's worth repeating.
Let's be the better.
Starting with disciplining those who behave shamefully on either side of the aisle.
FINALLY uploaded "First and Forgotten" to Amazon earlier this evening. Now comes the wait to see if the files are found to be okay by them, then getting a proof, then...
... probably not having copies available to sell at the concert January 8th.
I'll work something out.
A cherished friend recently remarked that Twitter and the blogosphere are both like continuations of high school, complete with the obligatory cliques, self-created cliches and a sprinkling of I'm The Smartest Person In The Room And I'm Here To Educate You Mindless Sheeple. By becoming their shepherd, apparently. Thanks, but I already have a Shepherd who's pretty Good.
It's a challenge these days finding something genuine. The world is rife and even replete with lecturers, self-appointed lords lording over others with this message at their core: I say so, therefore it is so. Of course it is. And the moon is a gigantic dusty grapefruit.
Rare, and treasured when found, are the individuals whose interest in others stems not from the need for an ego stroke, career boost or insecurity-fueled hunger for affirmation. Instead, they care and share because it's the right thing to do. They encourage others to feel special, wanted and worth something because they are special, wanted and worth something. A comforting word, a smile, a prayer is of far greater value than ten thousand words of mad props and link love. There are times when this seems to be missed online. Usually on days ending with a Y.
Also, there are those who slap away an extended open hand of kindness. Doubtless they have their reasons. Could be the person making the offer is beneath their station. Or, they are of no value in furthering their personal agenda. Such people aren't interested in others offering their prayers. They seek only promotion, and eventually find it, usually from others who seek to be promoted even as they themselves promote. As Jesus said, they have their reward in full.
It's not that people who offer prayer, concern and comfort do so from a belief they are so rock solid in life they rawk. Rather, they are fully aware of their own foibles and failures. They care for others not out of a sense that doing so make them look good. Instead, they bring themselves into matters, scars and all. Some are from wounds inflicted by others, some self-inflicted. In either case they embrace the teachings of Christ: forgive others, forgive yourselves even as I have forgiven you. With this in their heart, mind and soul they reach out. Sometimes it's welcomed. Other times when they're told in so many words to get lost? They stay found, but leave the self-satisfied to their own devices.
Just like high school.
One of the things that annoys me the most about football — well, other than the Colts having a decidedly subpar season — is how the pre- and post-game shows last as long, if not longer, than the games themselves. I like football, but endless prognostications and analysis beforehand, followed by equally endless rehashes afterwards, have the approximate excitement level of watching root beer go flat. C’mon, people. It’s neither that exciting nor important.
The same applies to politics. Hit a topic while it’s hot? Certainly. Maintain an endless postmortem after an election has concluded, or a bill has or hasn’t passed? I’d rather load software.
Having said that, a bit of analysis concerning the present dust-up within the conservative camp over the recent election is in order. Specifically, the Delaware senatorial campaign.
Personal investment in a candidate does not always follow the most logical of paths. There are times when employing heart as well as head when choosing who to support means accepting someone who logic dictates is less than perfect. Also, faith comes into play in not seeing candidates strictly via the usual litmus tests, but as human beings like we are. You know, imperfect people saved by God’s grace? When you go that way, it’s far easier to cut people some slack.
While this approach leads to a more pastoral approach to politics, it also reinforces the notion of taking it more personally than is the norm when someone slams your candidate of choice. One expects this from the other side; politics has become a blood sport, which goes a long way toward explaining the general populace’s disillusionment with most all things involving elected officials. If all one hears about any candidate is their favorite hobby consists of drowning puppies and kitties in-between foreclosing the mortgage on orphanages in the middle of fierce winter storms, it’s a tad difficult to whip up much support for anyone. A helpful hint for all wishing to entering the political arena: define who you are and what your platform is first and foremost. Then go after your opponent’s record, not your opponent personally. But I digress.
When the fire comes from your own side, it’s natural to wonder what’s the deal. Certainly there is room for healthy debate in the primary. That’s what they are for. But once the checkered flag waves and the voters have spoken, whining and carrying on about the results is so much shouting into the wind over having the temerity to not ask your permission for it to blow. Buck up and support the chosen candidate. If you can’t bring yourself to do so, then have the decency to clam up and not mount a rearguard action that has the same effectiveness as attempting to teach a pig to fly. You know — wastes your time and annoys the pig?
Bringing all this from general to specific, there was a ton of ammo used in the debate over the choice between Mike Castle and Christine O’Donnell in the Delaware senatorial primary. The division was sharp, with one side stating that no matter how liberal Castle’s voting record was, he was at least a Republican and apparently electable unlike krazee Christine, while the other insisted Castle was a no-go and O’Donnell was indeed a viable candidate. Neither side was inclined to give the other much credence, and the discussion became extremely toxic.
A seldom commented on element of this was how the Castle supporters had zero personal investment in him, while O’Donnell boosters often had a strong connection with her. It was the at best disregard, and far more often open disrespect, of this that did more than simple ideological differences to poison the atmosphere. Had the moderate element adopted an approach of saying look, we understand you like your candidate personally, and we’re not going to insult her or you for liking her, but here’s our case as to why Castle is a more viable candidate, fine. It didn’t happen. Instead, it was name calling times two: first against O’Donnell, then against those who supported her.
No one who has invested in a candidate receives their being slandered and insulted well. When the demeaning vibe is directly extended to the supporter, it’s on. And before anyone on the Castle side complains that those of us who supported O’Donnell were a bunch of meanies, kindly remember who threw the first mud. It was the Castle crew. End of discussion.
Once the primary was over and O’Donnell has won, the Castle side proved itself pathologically incapable of either letting go or laying off the slams against O’Donnell supporters. Be it the high flyers like Karl Rove or peashooters like Patterico, they simply couldn’t let it go. They piled on O’Donnell non-stop, whenever called out on it bleating it was all “honest debate.” No. It wasn’t all honest debate. There was nothing honest about any aspect of the discussion. It was spite and sour grapes masquerading as debate. It was personal and pathetic. It did nothing but further divide at a time when division was the last thing that was needed.
Not that O’Donnell ran a perfect campaign. She spent far too much time defending herself personally instead of attacking her opponent’s tax raising-happy record. And she lost.
At which point her detractors within conservative circles proceeded to start a victory dance that has yet to slow down.
Why?
All this does is confirm the impression that making it personal against her supporters was, and remains, the main objective of O’Donnell detractors. They have become so consumed with “righting” the wrongs they inflicted on themselves by blatantly disregarding the personal investment of her supporters that they are incapable of letting it go. They endlessly lecture in the manner of those who has designated themselves The Smartest People In The Room, and when this is commented upon immediately adopt the pose of one wrongfully wounded by friendly fire, seeking solace in the company of other level-minded, therefore like-minded, whiners. They are either unable or unwilling to grasp the fact they are the cause of their own misery. They are the embodiment of Jesus’ words: “They are like children sitting in the marketplace and calling out to each other: ‘We played the pipe for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not cry.’”
Note the words “to each other.” They excel at talking to each other over the injustices they have endured in the cause of trying to talk some sense into misguided fools who, oh, believe in people and engage heart as well as mind. But to those they propose to instruct? It’s all so much noise, filling space without providing substance.
And that is the annoyance of the ongoing debate between those who adhere to principle and the self-proclaimed pragmatic.
And is hopefully the last time I’ll feel the need to mention it.
Now, can we get back to today?
ADDENDUM: Thanks to Dan Collins at POWIP for the link.
( Also posted at Goldfish and Clowns)
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