My twin brother and Jane Hamsher have really stirred the hornets’ nest this week, which I find myself watching with some amused detachment. I mean, as I said in the comments at FDL,
I actually think there’s something to this whole right wingers and drugs/anti-social behavior thing. I have been debating on giving The Waste of Paste™ a pass for a while until I am more sure of it, because I actually think the guy’s “tetched,” as we say Down South.
I remember that there was another right wing blogger back in the early days who was quite frank about his social anxiety disorder between posts about the Islamo-fascist-boogieman threat. Damn if I can remember who it was, but I think that they’re gone now. It all sort of fell into place for me after that, and I wrote a kind of snide post called “Birth of the Security Mom” linking anti-social behavior, 9/11 and abuse of Metabolife.
However, as I was sort of resting on my laurels after the whole ‘Heart of Darkness’ dustup, it occurred to me… I think this guy might be seriously crazy, and if that’s the case, then I am going to stop being Part of the Problem.
On the other hand, I didn’t know he was accusing recovering persons of being drunks. That kind of mitigates any shame I might have felt for making fun of the retarded guy.
And really, it boils down to that. I remember reading Protein Wisdom for the first time back in, I think 2002, and I was stunned at the just plain nastiness of the tone of the writing. As I recall, Jeff was in some OTHER dustup with some OTHER blogger, and he was really getting personal and piling it on, and I thought… fuck, what an asshole.
Sow the wind, and all that.
However, MAN have the kewl kids in the bleachers jumped up on the world’s shortest herd of high horses about this. I mean, the whole “HOW DARE YOU!!” tone has me smacking my forehead.
(Sadly, NO! has a nice rundown of one of the real winner’s greatest hits, by the way…)
This whole thing reminds me of something that often happens in the last ten minutes of regulation play in a soccer match… the English call it “diving,” which is where a soccer player who has experienced a rough check falls to the ground and positively WRITHES in agony, gripping his (almost certainly crippled) leg and gasping for breath between the HORRIBLE waves of pain. Because injury time can stretch out a match, it’s naturally the losing team most often seen diving in the waning minutes of the game in order to stop the clock.
I watch a bit of soccer with friends from the UK, and if it’s one of the team who they are rooting for who is on the ground, the often shout “Oh, you fucking BRUTAL BASTARDS! This is football (meaning, of course, “soccer”), not boxing! DISGRACEFUL!!”
Of course, if it’s one of opposing team, they’ll mutter something like “Oh, sweetheart…. that must be AWFULLY painful for you… tell me, does your husband play this game, as well?”
So, yeah, as I watched the pack of shitheels who beat their chests and cheered for the Swiftboat Vets, wondered aloud if Hillary was a lesbian, came over here to MY little corner of the web and called me a moonbat, unhinged, a hysteric and worse (for having the temerity to suggest that the war in Iraq might, y’know, turn out exactly like what it’s turned out to be)… They called Cindy Sheehan a grief pimp, turned on Nick Berg’s father the second he stopped singing from their hymnal, they excoriated Kristen Breitweiser (saying of the 9/11 widow: “In reality she’s an ignorant, Bush-hating, media-whore.” Yes, one of them actually said that.) and to be honest, most of us haven’t forgotten. The litany of nastiness and “uncivility” from the Right is endless.
So it’s kind of hard, at this juncture not to say…”Oh, just put a little ice on it if it stings, you candyasses. Suck it up and quit crying.”
The game looks like it’s winding down, anyway…