”
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.
”
Nah, nobody will buy that. Maybe just,
”
It was the worst of times,
”
period. Better yet:
”
It was the Year of Fear in the Age of Rage.
”
Now I think we’re getting a handle on the zeitgeist of 2010. And
there was much to fear.
“It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.”
Nah, nobody will buy that. Maybe just, “It was the worst of times,” period.
Better yet: “It was the Year of Fear in the Age of Rage.” Now I think we’re getting a handle on the zeitgeist of 2010. And there was much to fear.
President Barack Obama and his Kenyan cadre of liberal socialist communist fascist America-hating Muslim radical-Christian grandma-killing European intellectual over-regulating expensive vacation-taking elites were bearing down on us like wolves on the fold, spending money we don’t have on frivolities like salvaging the economy and making people have health care coverage on the insane theory that it’s cheaper in the long run. Something had to be done.
And so we got mad. Very mad. Enraged. Yelling at town hall meetings, screaming on the Internet, veins bulging, fists shaking, shouting into the wind. It’s not the economy’s fault, it’s not the bursting of the bubble we all benefitted from all those years, it’s not the greedy banks and brokers, it’s not the wars – it’s Obama and the Democrats. They’ve had two years to do a full repair on the Titanic and get it safely to New York where it was supposed to go, and all they’ve done is prevent it from sinking. It’s enough to enrage a Zen master.
Enter the permanently dyspeptic Tea Partiers and their equally apoplectic representatives who are even now storming their way to that cave of iniquity on the Potomac, that foul cesspool inside of which are the Insiders, the elites, the – can this still be uttered in a family newspaper? – politicians, the lowest of the low, the crazed depraved inhabitants of the accursed Beltway who practice an art so dark that Lord Voldemort would drop his wand and run screaming from its presence: politics.
These are the noble knights who have heroically vowed to “take back the country” from … uh, um, well, those who in a gentler age were called our own elected representatives, our governmental alter-egos, the people we voted into office. Now we need to take the country back from them and give it to … uh, um, well, these other elected representatives.
But this time it will be different, honestly, because these newbies don’t have so much as a hint of rumor of a suspicion how to actually do the things they’ve boldly promised, and that’s a refreshing change from the tired old competence-experience thing we’re used to seeing in complicated important jobs. But God knows they’re blood-boiling mad as hell, and apparently when Inspector Clousseau gets really, really angry he bears a striking resemblance to Sherlock Holmes.
The point is, we’ve sent a loud clear message to Washington. We do that a lot, at least according to people who win elections – happens pretty much every time. No matter how close the race, no matter how hair-thin the margin of victory might be, the winner is always the beneficiary of a loud clear message; also a mandate, don’t forget the mandate.
Of course, it is a mystery how loud clear messages can be so subjective. To Harry Reid the message was that the people want the parties to work together to solve problems. To Mitch McConnell the message was, don’t compromise with the Democrats. John Boehner even said the message was that Congress must listen to the people, and then told us what we wanted Congress to hear which by remarkable coincidence was precisely the Republican agenda.
Now comes the heavy lifting, which is to figure out a new name for the elected Partiers. I mean, we can’t call them politicians just because they ran for elective office, campaigned, held fundraisers, spoke to voters, made promises, mercilessly attacked their opponents, and are now going to D.C. to govern the country: they themselves have made “politician” something between a vile insult and a word you use to scare your children into being good (“If you don’t go to sleep right now a politician will come here from Washington and kill Grandma”).
So there will be the politicians – the paltry 87 percent of incumbents whose voters tragically returned them to office – who really don’t deserve to live, and then there will be these other, better people who don’t negotiate or compromise or horse trade or reach across the aisle or otherwise practice politics because that would violate the principles to which their supporters will require them to cleave.
So, a term for them: my first choice would be “deer in the headlights.”
Despite being an award-winning columnist, Robert Mitchell doggedly remains the same eccentric attorney who has practiced general law in Morgan Hill for more than 30 years. Reach him at r.****@*****on.net.
