Before you go off all half cocked and squirt my ass with a seltzer bottle,
lissin up fer a sec, 'k?
With all this shit about the Newsweek story .... the UK memo .... blah, blah, fuckin' blah.
News comes out and the attack dogs are not days behind .... they're fucking **seconds** behind.
Not only has the speed with which the attacks are mounted picked up, so has their severity. Their viciousness.
Dan Rather saying he was sorry wasn't even close to adequate for them. They wanted his balls on a platter. And CBS served 'em right up.
"Would you like Worcestershire on that, Sir?" Then, bending over and dropping trou, they say: "May I have another, sir?"
And it seems to be incessant and unstoppable, these attacks on our very foundational institutions. They know no bounds, we say. How can we stop them, we wail. Knees a-knockin', teeth a-chatterin', hands a-wringin'.
But wait, say I.
Might it be ....... that they're scared shitless? Scared of what they see on the horizon? Scared of the seeds of popular displeasure that are around us now? Scared that we know the truth and are building to the point of using it?
Scared for their very survival?
Dogs don't often fight when they don't have to. But they sure do when cornered.
And these dogs may well be feeling cornered.
And wishing they were the real deal ... real junkyard dogs.
This contrarian essay brought to you in the name of grumpy clowns everywhere .... and in a spirit of inciting you to .... discuss ....