Another protester has crossed the line

To find the money’s on the other side.

I’ve been meaning to write about this for a while. Tbogg’s made a kind of case study of this sort of thing, creatures who became Republicans because some Democrat somewhere treated them badly. The anger and righteous self-pity in their tirades never fails to confound me, because that’s a pretty shitty basis for adoption of a political philosophy: “Because you were a douche to me at a dinner party, Mr. Moore, I am now avowing my support of vast deficits and endless war.” My country tis of fucking thee.

I mean, there’s plenty of people who I wish would get off my own side because they make it unpleasant to me. I could sit here and make long lists of left and center-left people I dislike, who’ve either been assholes in general or to me specifically. I could probably make a pretty convincing and whiny case that I’ve been looked at funny or disregarded or cut dead by some vaguely important people, because pretty much everybody who’s in any way alive has been pissed on by somebody.

But the point is, at the end of the day, independent of who is and isn’t a dick, my positions will always be in line with the party of the people, the political philosophy that says government can be a mechanism to solve problems and build a better society. My place in this reality-based community isn’t dependent on my friends, it’s dependent on my conscience. I didn’t become a Democrat because Republicans made jokes at my expense. On the contrary, most of the Republicans I know have been rather nice to me (hi, mom!). I’m not sixteen anymore, this isn’t rebellion.

I didn’t come here to be with all the cool people; if I had, I’d have hung up the keyboard long ago, despairing of ever getting into the right parties. I hate that shit, that schmoozing, high-school, my agent blew your agent so now we’re best friends crapola. I’m here because this is the stuff I believe in. Whoever else is in the room is secondary, and while I’ll admit that I have a hell of a good time with some of the people, if the conversation sucked I wouldn’t stay just for the cocktails.

But for these guys, it’s like a Sims Street Gang. It’s all about wearing the colors, flashing the signs, showing off who they’re with, whose call they got the other night, who gave them a ride, who showed up at their afterparty. It’s about belonging, and that wouldn’t be so bad, I mean, whatever gets you through the day, but for the fact that lots and lots of people are dying because enough of these self-righteous twits had weinie roasts together before voting for a chimp for president.

I’m very glad Tbogg’s cataloguing all this, because I have a feeling that in early 2009 we’ll be reading more and more editorials talking about how this same group of fickle cheerleaders didn’t leave the Republican party, it left them, and the Democrats are where it’s at right now.

A.