frisson politick, ahead of nominations, endorsements, announcements and such.

One of the old golf-types can only be certain of his social status in Ronna McDaniel's GOP if Kimberly Guilfoyle tries to marry his consigliere; they say success begets success, stars align, and the dog returns to its vomit.  The universe is an analog computer, they also say, and in that, such live fast and write their letter across the sands of posterity in such a way that it's difficult to look away: they bring us joy, they bring us fun, but in the end, its just a game to piss-off the other side, the East and West Davenport crowds, Greater Umbria and all, the Compagna and all the while we sing the familiar chorus wondering how we got to such a place of hatred and widespread contempt, when all we were earlier focused on was making a show.

Only too late we find that we hate the show, and such was the prophecy of Hambali that there would be moral statutes that were not up for debate, and debate was crowned with a thorn-ring of the lunacy label, and the other side moved on.  Then we came, and moved over them, silencing them, and the debate brook no middle ground.  Ronna McDaniel's GOP.  I voted in Michael Steele's GOP, and I see him looking for refuge over at MSNBC these days; I find that ominous, this "cure the gays" and "tell the children who they are" kind of things in which the good citizen is annointed as a teacher and expert on various subjects.  They take science as it were, as an article of faith?  Or faith as a boon of silence?  How many angry pundits are going to push the nation over the cliff?  If indeed one does not come to his senses and scramble for middle ground, he is doomed to fall off, where Ronna and her friends land, having irrevocably and irreversibly lost all the moderates.

Indeed, so much of is neither policy nor governance but naked spite.  At once, looking for freedom, and the other hand trying to "cure the gays", and we wonder, for whom is the country suppose to be free, which culture?