Who's Your Daddy, Now?We think that the Miers nomination represents a triumph of Republican corporatism (litigator for a
union busting law firm, hello???) - and all the red Christinists (a neologism,
Scorpio coined) and neo-cons and the six Republicans left who actually believe in limited government, international cooperation and fiscal sanity (sojourning in a rather pleasant retirement villa in a location we dare not name) finally figured out that il Ducetto's been punking them for the benefit of his commercial, industrial, corporate friends at the country club for more than a few years now. As for Ms. Mier's aptitude and accomplishements, her suitability for the job, we lack sufficient evidence to form a competent opinion. But the base does not. They know she's the lawyer from corporate.
We think the "base" has finally tweaked to this based on the round up of right-wing Bush-bashing that Kevin Drum has
catalogued over at Washington Monthly. John at AmericaBlog has Richard Viguerie, bag man for the Movement's,
cri de couer, as well. Three comments leap to the fore - John Podhoretz's description of the selection as an act of "droit de seignerur." What a sexist, little pig a red reveals himself to be when he's punked. We guess when Mr. Podhoretz realized he'd been nothing but Mr. Bush's bitch for the last decade, he couldn't resist snidely implying that il Ducetto, to the contrary, was porking the lawyer chick. Ms. Meiers, the first female partner in an old line Dallas law firm whose client's have included Disney and Microsoft, has been beating chest thumpers like Podhoretz like a drum for most of her career, so we think she can handle it.
Richard Viguerie, of course, blames the liberals. Now, Gentle Reader, Pudentilla, a card carrying, knee-jerk, Bush-hating, liberal, if there ever was one, feels quite confident that the only people in North America who had absolutely no influence on il Ducetto's decision, were the liberals. Viguerie, of course, can hardly admit to his soulless throng that the financial eminence grise of the "movement," tried and failed to play the old rope a dope with the same old business men who've been picking the pockets of the soulless throng since the turn of the last century. Can Viguerie say that, in fact, either knowingly or negligently, either in a hopelessly sentimental or inadequately Machiavellian move, he plumped for the scion of oil and gas. What can he say, "I'm an idiot"? No, of course not. So he has to blame the liberals. Which is what the leadership class of the movement have been doing to the rank and file fools for decades now. It may be the old reliable red meat libel that Viguerie is throwing to the mob, but jeesh you guys, isn't it a bit maggoty and rancid by now?
As for Bill Kristol,
disappointed, depressed and demoralized, what on God's green earth makes you think that anyone in the White House gives the anal orifice of a single rodent what you think, Bill? You're the cheer leader in chief of the neo-con's shining vision for turning the Middle East into a resource rich, if easterly, province of Texas. Too bad you were utterly and completely wrong and mired il Ducetto up to his eyeballs in a quagmire that threatens, god-willing, the Republican majority dream like nothing since Watergate. Is Karl returning your calls, Billy boy? Perhaps not before Wolfie's.
But the wailing and nashing of teeth in the Christianist movement is the most pleasant music of all. Ms. Miers, it appears, is
against a woman's right to choose (perhaps, the choice seems a bit abstract to her) but does not hate queers. She thinks
Texas should lock 'em up if some Ranger catches them doing the nasty in the privacy of their own homes. She also thinks, however, that no one should
discriminate against them in housing and employment, and mirable dictu, they should get to
adopt kids if they want to. We guess this is her version of queer immaculate conception. She is not, it would seem, as
AmericaBlog documents, a red Christianist.
Poor Pat Robertson. Poor Christianists. Liberals like Pudentilla think the way you read the Bible is wacky, but they agree with you that figuring out what the Good Book means is an important task. Il Ducetto and his friends simply despise you. Since Henry of Navarre converted to Catholicism as part of his struggle to claim the French throne because "Paris is worth mass," politicians have been willing to publicly pray any words you and your ilk say and then wash the words down with bourbon and branch as they they make the deals with the devils at the table to which your support has brought them.
So who's your Daddy, now, boys? Will you retreat to the desert to wander in search of your savior for another generation? Will you turn to a true believer, even more frightening to those who have a passing care for things like the Constitution, and spill your strength on fringe candidates for elections to come? Or will they come back with roses and chocolate, convincing you in 2012 that Jebb is the real one - whispering between subtle reassurances that you can love God and still fear
dark skinned people and worse,
women with social and economic autonomy (we don't even have to mention queers) - that "the old man, the son, didn't really believe, they were too easily played by liberals. But Jebb is one of us. Think of Terry Schiavo. Trust us. We get it. We're one of you. Donate at this url. Vote at this precinct. Tell the congregation."
Because your outrage makes this clear, children, that you desperately need a Daddy. The alternative, thinking on your own two feet, forging political and economic alliances across social and cultural difference, that's just too hard. You need a Daddy to tell you what to think. And today, all you know for sure is that il Ducetto sure as hell ain't your daddy no more.