giving enuresis a bad name

Rolling Out the Rubber Sheets:

In fact, my policy is to refer to the warbloggers in 2006 as “bedwetters.” There need be no shame in being a bedwetter. It’s a condition that can be treated. But for the neocon-converted, treatment first requires taking honest self-inventory. Having the courage to look in the mirror admit, “I’m a pompous warmongering bedwetting crybaby who loves to hear myself maunder.”

Favorite quotes (both referenced in the full-length post from which the above is excerpted):

Now I may not be as “emotionally or morally sophisticated” as Roger L Simon, but then I didn’t spend the afternoon of 9/11 flushing away my beliefs and convictions in a piddle-stained panic. So please spare me the “cojones” and “cowardice” locker room speech from the man who is one car backfire away from turning into a fedora floating in a puddle of pee.

All those fine words about the rule of law safeguarding our liberties, the arbitrary exercise of power and Bunker Hill, Lexington and Normandy went right out the window on 9/11. That was when Henry [Hyde] and the rest of his stalwart defenders of the rule of law promptly wet their pants and then let their president use the constitution to clean up the puddle.

Great minds think alike, indeed. As for Henry Hyde, I have found his posturing as some paragon of moral rectitude repulsive: I’m in agreement that a mature mind can hold two opposing ideas at the same time,

but for a congressman to steal another man’s wife, keep her as his mistress, and then comport himself as he did during the Clinton witch-hunt is another matter. Youthful indiscretion? At 41? I don’t think so.

Now playing: Expresso Love by Dire Straits from the album “Making Movies”