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I present another of the ladies of my household, and thereby fulfill the requirements both of Rule 5 and of blog-poster cattage:
Her name is Janice, for reasons that may or may not be apparent. The image is from my cell phone, and may be a little too close to be as sharp as I would like.
It’s not always useful to name a cat. In my life I have only had two cats who would come when called by their name, one long ago, the other still around — Janice’s aunt, if I remember the family trees correctly. Perhaps I’ll post her picture one day. In any case, the cats don’t seem to have names for one another, and I forget their names for days on end. With Bobbe no longer here, they and I are the sole inhabitants of the household, and we know one another quite well, without need for labels.
Janice is currently very uncomfortable. Her body informs her that it is time to seek Love, or at least Sex, and while my current resources are sufficient to keep us all fed I greatly fear that an influx of kittens would overtax the carrying capacity of this habitat. I also haven’t been able to scrape up the resources to have her “fixed” — odd terminology, that, since things that don’t work anymore are more generally characterized as “broken”. Normally, it is her sister Daisy who sleeps with me, or (during the present spell of hot weather) next to me, but while Janice is in her season she discards her normal polite standoffishness in favor of wanting petting, hugs, and cuddles. That I can do, and careful attention to doors as I go in and out will have to serve to avoid the kitten problem.
Steve Benen at the Political Animal notes that “MOVEMENTS ARE ABOUT SOMETHING REAL”, then wonders what it’s all about:
For a year and a half, we’ve seen rallies and town-hall shouting and attack ads and Fox News special reports. But I still haven’t the foggiest idea what these folks actually want, other than to see like-minded Republicans winning elections.
Steve, this constitutes definitive proof, if any were needed, that you and your fellows do not perceive the objective Universe. You have a little database in your heads full of preconceptions; external stimuli are “hashed” to return either one of those or a null. You can’t think, because you have nothing to think about except what you’ve already masticated ’til the flavor is gone.
Prof. Jacobson suggests that we simply not tell you, on the ground that if you did perceive what was happening you might make an effective response, which you haven’t to date. I am feeling somewhat generous today, in large part because I don’t believe you’ll be able to comprehend this, either — your bigotry is too strong for it to penetrate — but also because I’d sort of like to vent a little spleen.
So: How if I make it simple for you?
We. Want. You. To. Go. Away.
You aren’t smarter than we are. You are “better educated”, placed in sneer quotes because your education has produced airtight, logically consistent theories that not only don’t work, when applied to the real world they invariably produce poverty, misery, and death. Your sneering assumption of moral and ethical superiority is out of place in America; it would sit much better on a courtier fawning upon Louis XV. Whatever your intentions — we do not grant that they are benign, whatever you say — the policies and procedures you demand, many of which have been put into place, will clearly have the result of beggaring us, reducing us to serfs whose tug o’the forelock you may condescendingly acknowledge as you ride grandly by.
The “you” in that indictment is plural. It includes virtually all the people you know, plus most of your University classmates, the majority of people whose philosophies you can tolerate, much less accept, and all of the politicians you admire.
We know that your ambition is to browbeat us into accepting your pretentious assumptions and elite status, and that your accusations of violent behavior against us are projections of your own willingness to send unlimited numbers of armed goons to support your ambitions. (Whoever said he saw “the next Timothy McVeigh” in the Restoring Honor crowd was seeing his own soul, not ours.) We have no such desires. We don’t want to kill you, hurt you, or even turf you out of your comfortable existence — although that last may happen as a byproduct if we succeed in wresting the levers of power from your incompetent hands, and displacing you from your crag of assumed omniscience is an important goal. We just want you to go away, so that we may renew and rebuild the institutions you have smashed in your childish, selfish snit.
Shenanigans continue in Alaska, and the main thing we take away from them is that, in the minds of politicians of all stripes, a Senate seat is not an elective office — it is a Dukedom if not a Principiate, to be passed on by primogeniture and the Laws of Inheritance. It’s not a matter of Left vs. Right or Republican vs. Democrat; the Murkowski Seat is no less a property right than the Kennedy one, in the minds of our self-appointed Betters.
This inspires me to propose a really strong version of term limits: Anyone elected to a third term, whatever the office, should be executed by firing squad upon leaving that office, whether by expiration of term, retirement, impeachment, or anything else — the said execution to take place on the Mall, against the east face of the Washington Monument, with the Press and the largest possible crowd of onlookers on hand, at dawn so that the sun’s in the asshole’s eyes. Once a team of medics has determined that, absent Divine intervention, the decedent won’t be bothering us any more, his or her assets, down to the broken set of nail-clippers in the back of the desk drawer, should be confiscated, liquidated, and placed in the Treasury.
Opponents of the death penalty protest that it does not provide a deterrent. That misses the point. Hangmen don’t get many repeat customers. The particular individual won’t be repeating the particular crime, or any other, and that itself is a worthy goal.