Dave, Dave, Dave, Dave, Dave

David Brooks is a git.

If I were a liberal, which I used to be, I wouldn’t want message discipline.

No, I suppose you wouldn’t. You would, however, want power, which is why you’re no longer a liberal. You saw all the shinies the wingers had on their side of the fence, so you hopped your fluffy-bunny ass on over, and now you give well-meaning advice to those you left behind. You fail to understand that most of them hate you and would like to bite your cotton tail right off.

Power comes from message discipline, which liberals had when they were dominant. Conservatives seized power not by changing anybody’s mind but by convincing people, with a relentless assault on their eyes and ears and lizard brains that they were conservative already, and that winning was fun.

And the only reason you’re jawing on about how horrible message discipline is is that it freaks the hell out of you because suddenly, on the side of the grass you used to burrow in, the bunnies you threw over for your new pals are having a great bunny party, dancing and drinking and shagging and ignoring the hell out of Chimpy’s attempts to suck them into a losing argument on social security, and you miss those bunnies, that lush green grass. And so you sit, your sad lop ears dangling, talking about Terri Schiavo and fetishizing a dead Pope your idealogical colleagues despised while he was alive, and you long for the days when liberals, those disciplined, functioning, fired-up-with-righteousness liberals, were just as dull and dickless as you feel right now.