Exposing the lack of compassion by conservatives and
debunking right wing hypocrisy at every opportunity.
I don't like talking politics with Corbin, cuz he cheats.
He makes up his own words, pretends he misunderstands what you say, or ignores you completely -- hollering and pouting to get his way.
He'll insist he's younger than he really is to fake you out -- you're impressed that someone of his age has the insight he possesses when he's saying something that seems an advanced thought, but when he's caught messing up you forgive him for his youthful indiscretion.
You run up against his type all the time, childishly unconcerned with anyone else's opinion, and more than willing to hear what he wants to hear -- ignoring the common meaning of words to reshape them into his own world-view.
They make up their own rules, change them mid-game to suit changing goals designed solely to allow them a "win" as opposed to fitting a particular purpose or solving a specific problem. Nothing is serious to these people. It's all just a child's game.
Digby reminded me of a juvenile online argument I had well before there were blogs. The result of the back and forth I endured with someone I used to consider a friend, but whose regurgitation of every Rush Limbaugh talking point made me finally reach my breaking point about the time the Clinton impeachment hearings were in full media saturation mode.
The discussion began, however, innocuously enough. I distinctly remember him writing me that I should watch out for "Bush Jr.", for no other reason than "he could win."
That was it. No substantive rationale why this man who had less experience for the job of President of the United States than anyone who ever assumed the office by vote or fate. No redeeming qualifications whatsoever, other than the American electorate might buy into this dude ranch figurehead because the GOP money machine would feed it's megaphone enough quarters to make us dance to his tune. Not that this guy was a great politician, an inspirational leader, someone with a plan and a vision. Just a name in a hat.
No, none of that. Just, "Rah! Rah! We got us a Winner!"
My friend didn't bat an eye after I systematically went through an exhaustive analysis of the previous qualifications of all the previous POTUS's. Except for the occasional war hero, this MBA candidate had either less education, federal government experience or executive experience as a State Governor or even University President than any President except Lincoln, and there's no way Shrub was a Lincoln.
My friend's name is not Corbin. Corbin is my 3 year-old grandson (who insists he's only 2, just advanced for his age). I have every confidence that in a few years Corbin and I will share some meaningful discussions about life and the how the world works that we both will enjoy. I have no such delusions about my former friend, who drank so much Kool-Aide in the 90's he's closed himself off to any reasonable discourse to this day. He's going to hate the next decade as the GOP disintegrates, wandering alone in the forest talking to itself.
He makes up his own words, pretends he misunderstands what you say, or ignores you completely -- hollering and pouting to get his way.
He'll insist he's younger than he really is to fake you out -- you're impressed that someone of his age has the insight he possesses when he's saying something that seems an advanced thought, but when he's caught messing up you forgive him for his youthful indiscretion.
You run up against his type all the time, childishly unconcerned with anyone else's opinion, and more than willing to hear what he wants to hear -- ignoring the common meaning of words to reshape them into his own world-view.
They make up their own rules, change them mid-game to suit changing goals designed solely to allow them a "win" as opposed to fitting a particular purpose or solving a specific problem. Nothing is serious to these people. It's all just a child's game.
Digby reminded me of a juvenile online argument I had well before there were blogs. The result of the back and forth I endured with someone I used to consider a friend, but whose regurgitation of every Rush Limbaugh talking point made me finally reach my breaking point about the time the Clinton impeachment hearings were in full media saturation mode.
The discussion began, however, innocuously enough. I distinctly remember him writing me that I should watch out for "Bush Jr.", for no other reason than "he could win."
That was it. No substantive rationale why this man who had less experience for the job of President of the United States than anyone who ever assumed the office by vote or fate. No redeeming qualifications whatsoever, other than the American electorate might buy into this dude ranch figurehead because the GOP money machine would feed it's megaphone enough quarters to make us dance to his tune. Not that this guy was a great politician, an inspirational leader, someone with a plan and a vision. Just a name in a hat.
No, none of that. Just, "Rah! Rah! We got us a Winner!"
My friend didn't bat an eye after I systematically went through an exhaustive analysis of the previous qualifications of all the previous POTUS's. Except for the occasional war hero, this MBA candidate had either less education, federal government experience or executive experience as a State Governor or even University President than any President except Lincoln, and there's no way Shrub was a Lincoln.
"I'm sure that in rarefied Big Money Republican circles there is a lot of soul searching going on about what went wrong. They are looking at Karl Rove and Dick Cheney and others and they are wondering which decisions and wrong turns were the ones that made the difference. But if they really want to know what the truly worst decision was they need look no further than the mirror. They foisted this fool on the world when they all went down to Texas and decided that it didn't matter that he was completely unqualified by experience, temperament or intelligence --- he could be president anyway."I stopped talking to my friend, this ditto-head, just about the time John McCain was being slandered in South Carolina by Rove and his minions.
My friend's name is not Corbin. Corbin is my 3 year-old grandson (who insists he's only 2, just advanced for his age). I have every confidence that in a few years Corbin and I will share some meaningful discussions about life and the how the world works that we both will enjoy. I have no such delusions about my former friend, who drank so much Kool-Aide in the 90's he's closed himself off to any reasonable discourse to this day. He's going to hate the next decade as the GOP disintegrates, wandering alone in the forest talking to itself.
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