As I write this, every American sacrifice in Iraq seems to have been for naught, the leader of the free world can’t seem to be bothered by such things before his vacation, kids are being used as political pawns to get the United States to abandon all pretense of border control and, for all we know, Vladimir Putin may be finalizing plans to colonize the moon, as he is the only one in charge of a permanent manned space presence.
In the immortal words of Clint Eastwood: “Oprah was crying.”
As we ponder the general “WTF?”-edness of the country and the world these days we’re faced with choices. I will freely admit that I spend almost half of every day wondering, “Why not just give up, find some beer and a beach and chill until the the apocalypse rolls over me?”
I am not, however, someone who embraces this kind of fatalism easily. Some may even say I am prone to confrontation. I am ignorantly stubborn when it comes to my freedom, which means that beach and the beer will have to wait.
The entire Republican primary season has been one framed by conflict. Most of it is ginned up by the media, as they know that things probably won’t be pleasant for the Democrats in November. It behooves them to keep the “Republican Civil War” narrative going. They are used to the old school model of repeating something until the public believes it’s true, which still somewhat works for them, but isn’t a gimme anymore. With that in mind, it’s easy to understand why the New York Times’ first response to Eric Cantor’s loss was a subtle, ‘Infighting because Ted Cruz is the devil,’ ploy.
The usual Republican hacks in the media seem to have taken Cantor’s loss as a personal affront, as if having won more than one election creates some sort of political tenure. How dare the commoners decide that their representative wasn’t representing them well enough anymore!
In a time where we are forever lamenting the apathy that plagues American voters, we should be thrilled when we see an electorate nuke its representative for not being responsive to their needs, regardless of party. Unless you’re with the Cantor team and about to be unemployed because of Tuesday’s loss, this is cause for celebration.
My weariness with the GOP establishment is often overwhelming, but my aforementioned stubbornness makes me want to drag the party across finish lines despite its current “snatch defeat from the jaws of victory” ethos.
Before getting to my proposal, I would like to note something. Often in these tea party activist-vs-Republican establishment arguments the grassroots tea party type is dismissed as being an uninformed rube when it comes to “how to win” or “the way things are done.” I didn’t just wander into this arena in 2009 because there was a big, loud party going on, I have been active in Republican politics since Reagan was on the ticket. I have been a registered Republican that entire time. I don’t call myself “conservatarian” or any other cutesy thing to avoid being completely associated with the party. I don’t think we should start a third party. I’m a Republican.
I remain a huge fan of infighting. If I wanted to be part of an argument-free hive mind, I would be a Democrat.
However, even the most dysfunctional families have to come together under a temporary truce for special occasions, like weddings, graduations and funerals. This coming November is one such occasion.
Having grown up in a loud, divorced, dysfunctional family, I know for a fact that warring factions who still share a common bond can get drunk enough to temporarily unite. It is with that in mind that I propose that conservative grassroots and the GOP establishment hit the bar and reaffirm our dislike of the current administration and Senate majority leader just long enough to neuter both come election time.
I’ll shut up about, and publicly support, Mitch McConnell if you avoid petulantly sabotaging David Brat and Chris McDaniel (who should be become the nominee). I will spend the next four and a half months biting my tongue until it bleeds to avoid saying anything bad about John Boehner if you can refrain from reflexively barking “Todd Akin!” whenever someone from outside the consultant class wants to voice an opinion.
Anything to stop the Idiot King and his merry band of executive privilege marauders from sowing more than we can dig up and destroy before this glorious Republic is forced to reap all of it.
Let’s light the unity candle with a blowtorch. That way we can be assured that it is properly lit, even if it melts faster. As long as it burns through November.
We can be the dysfunctional family that gets together for a few months in wedding mode and ends up celebrating.
Or we can gather for a funeral.