The Big Gloat

With the latest casualty in the struggle for progressive thought "mysteriously" leaving, the thinking world must again stand by the cartoon pomposity that the right often depends upon.
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So Keith Olbermann's gone.

For now.

And the side of the room that is reveling in his departure will, of course, display their colors as do all vain beasts who strut and preen and demonstrate their bloated, overcompensating masculinity to their submissive minions.

And then, having flexed and posed thus, proceed to bob and weave through the onslaught of righteous criticism, disingenuously denying the truth about their actions, deploying their meme-machines to spout nonsense and calumny about their accusers.

And because the other side of the room -- along with wit, intelligence, reverence for history and mortality -- possesses a crippling introspection which is often an impediment to action, they do little to impede them, hoping for the eventual tripping-up of the bullies, the inevitable gaffe which reveals their corroded inner workings.

And, as always, it becomes abundantly clear that their drivel is merely the raving of a cornered and terrified animal on the verge of extinction, railing against all who would snuff out its lethal messages of racism, sexism, classism, corporatism. They accuse, they lie, they do everything they have been bred to do to survive. And in doing so, they drag down the system, they drag down humanity, forcing all to live by their antiquated rules and eye-rolling superstitions. The gun fetishes and the god fetishes amount to one big ignorance fetish, a sad commentary on the failure of the intellect to overcome instinct.

But for now, with the latest casualty in the struggle for progressive thought "mysteriously" leaving, the rest of the thinking world must once again stand by and endure the cartoon pomposity that the right so often depends upon, since truth and wisdom and taste are simply not in their repertoire.

Bray on.

For now.

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