Thursday, September 29, 2005

Professional Grade
Let me say first that unlike lots of people of my generation, I love both of my parents, unequivocally and without qualification. My relationship with them is not problematical or difficult. I don't blame them for damaging me in some way, profound or otherwise. (I'm responsible for the way I turned out--they may have started the job, but it was up to me to finish it.) But I confess to being amused by them sometimes, and wondering how they got to be like they are. I also have to acknowledge that my mother is an accomplished worrier, and an epic ranter. Which is where I get it from.

So anyway, one weekend after shortly I'd grown up and left home, The Mrs. (who may not yet have been The Mrs. at the time) and I were visiting my parents. My father did something relatively innocuous to set my mother off, and she responded with a rant that, even by her standards, was something special. It was like a fugue by Johann Sebastian Bach, is what it was. Over the course of several minutes, this rant repeated themes and restated them, weaved new themes against the old, and built to a majestic climax. My poor father could only stand there like a man in the rain as the rant beat down upon him. (He didn't seem to mind, having long experience in being ranted at.) As for The Mrs. and I, we listened in silent awe, and when it was over, we had all we could do to keep from delighted laughter at the sheer perfection of the thing. It was the first time (but not the last time) I observed to The Mrs. that when it comes to ranting, I'm strictly an amateur. Mom's a professional.

But even an amateur can recognize a good rant when he sees one. Hunter at Daily Kos provides one in response to some right-wing blogger's criticism of the Delay indictment, in which it was suggested that Democrats need to "step back from the edge" they're on by seeking to take Delay down. It deserves quotation at length:
Welcome to the world of the politics of personal destruction, you tubthumping, chin-jutting, Bush humping gits. Welcome to the nasty and partisan world that Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter, Michelle Malkin, Hugh Hewitt, Grover Norquist, Newt Gingrich, Tom DeLay, and a legion of insignificant lowest-rung toadies like yourselves nurtured into fruition daily with eager, grubby hands, and now look upon with dull-faced faux horror.

I know you hate me, and anyone else who dares disturb the thin strands of alternate reality in which George W. Bush is an intellectual giant, Saddam really was responsible for 9/11, the economy is getting better by the minute, and we capture the most very important members of al Qaeda on a weekly basis.

But here's some advice. You'd better start hating me more. This is the world you forged and, unfortunately for you, I'm beginning to take a fancy for it. Welcome to the politics of your own party, finally sprouting from the ground on which you planted the seeds and shat upon them.

Step back from the edge? You poor boy, asleep in the back of the car the whole trip, finally waking up and wondering where you're at.

Swift boats. Aluminum tubes. Niger uranium. "Mushroom clouds". Whitewater.

Vince Fucking Foster.

You can't even see the edge from here. You left it behind a hundred miles back.
As another Hunter, Hunter S. Thompson, famously said, "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro." That's a professional rant right there.

(Technical note: It appears that Haloscan, the website that handles comments on this blog, has been having some problems today. It's made my blog extremely slow, at least on my computer, and other Haloscan blogs, such as Eschaton and AMERICABlog have been slow, too. I don't know if this is a problem I'm having or something systemwide, but if ut takes the site a long time to load and you don't get a "Comments" link, that's why. Thanks in advance for your patience, if necessary.)

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?