And all because you haven’t the guts to defy us in the court of public opinion, starring our royal eunuchs as ostensibly independent press arbiters. You’d rather be liked than president, which is why you’re going to lose next year and will keep on losing until you grow a spine and face up to the fact that we’re the Wizard of Oz and you’re the little dog, Toto, and all you have to do is pull that curtain away but you’re too darn dumb.
[Note: This article was originally posted on December 16th, 2011. The IFNM website was attacked by hackers and many articles are now gone from the archives. As a public service, IFNM is now reposting said articles.]
I’m sure glad you wingnuts have finally figured out there’s nothing wrong with this rotten country of ours that can’t be fixed with a two-step, three-step, twelve-step program, five-year plan, or more. For decades, we’ve been hammering you with our army of think tanks, policy wonks, and lawfare experts, browbeating you into submission with the sheer force of our intellect and, of course, our unique whingeing whininess as we present program after program designed to “benefit” widows and orphans and then defy you Daddy Warbuckses to gainsay us. Which you never do, even though we both know we haven’t got a dime to pay for any of it.
Because, let’s face it, three hours alone with Frances Fox Piven reading the collected works of the Frankfurt School aloud and you’re ready to start quoting Theodor Adorno, Erich Fromm, and Max Horkheimer in the original Austrian. And all because you haven’t the guts to defy us in the court of public opinion, starring our royal eunuchs as ostensibly independent press arbiters. You’d rather be liked than president, which is why you’re going to lose next year and will keep on losing until you grow a spine and face up to the fact that we’re the Wizard of Oz and you’re the little dog, Toto, and all you have to do is pull that curtain away but you’re too darn dumb.
Yes, no one can churn out yards of pseudo-intellectual codswallop, tomfoolery, bafflegab, and just plain bumf as we can. Our mastery of the fog machine of politics has been so absolute that we can hardly credit the evidence that you’ve decided to fight back. And yet now along come not one but two combative wind machines on your side, making enough noise to fit right in with the New York Philharmonic during a performance of Richard Strauss’s Don Quixote.
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