The Anchoress
No…you’re not reading that wrong. And that’s not a headline from The Onion, either.
Ms. Newmark at Betsy’s Page relates a story about Rep. Melvin Watt, D-N.C that really shouldn’t be too surprising, coming on the heels of that over-emoting-shrinking-violet, Professor Nancy Hopkins from MIT – you remember her, the babe who swooned because Harvard President Lawrence Summers (while clearly saying he wanted his hypothesis to be proved wrong) posed an academic question about the differences in ability that exists between genders.
Hopkins had to get up and leave the room because she said if she did not, she was going to black out. Like Hillary Clinton when Bill “finally told her the truth” about Monica, Hopkins heart began to race, she gasped for breath! What are you saying? You’re putting out an idea that doesn’t agree with my world view! I’m going to pass out! I must flee! Flee!
While Rep. Watt, disliking Greenspans endorsement of the Bush Social Security reforms, did not have to excuse himself to go have a case of the vapors, he did tell the learned, mature Greenspan – a man who, if for no other reason, deserved to be addressed respectfully for his status as an elder, and for his service to the nation – that he couldn’t allow Greenspan to continue talking because, “When I hear you use as a major justification for private accounts that you are somehow trying to look out for poor people, it makes me nauseous.”
Ms. Newmark adds, “when Greenspan tried to answer that statement, Watt refused to let him talk saying that he was afraid he would lose control and throw up if Greenspan said any more.
Got that? In forty years the Democrats have moved from “Ask not what your country can do for you…” to “Stop talking or I’m gonna frwo up!!”
“Stop having ideas or I’m gonna hold my breath and turn blue until I pass out, and then you’ll be sorry!
I expect we’ll soon hear that some duly-elected Democrat or feminist is going to reply to an idea by putting his or her hands over the ears and spinning in a circle saying, “La, la, la, I can’t hear you, la, la, la…”
I think, good people, that it is time to add a new word to the public lexicon. While it’s not suitable for every Democrat, it’s seems to be suitable for a certain faction of them whom I have decided to label: DEMOBRATS.
These people are begging for a book series on the order of the Lemony Snicket books. Call it:
DemoBrats: Staggering Stories of Surpassing Silliness
DemoBrats, Book One: The Fury of the Foghorn Feminist
Wherein Demobrat Susan Estrich finds the means to literally scream on paper about the meanness of the LA Times and PBS for not employing her and her friends. When people tell her to shut up and stop screaming, she thrusts out her lower lip, stamps her foot and says, “FINE! Then I’m going to MAKE you listen to me!” When rightly accused of blackmail, she toots, “How dare you assuse me of blackmail! You owe me an apology! You’re mean! You’re a man! You’re a mean man and all men are meanies, and I have a tummy ache! I hate how men say women are too emotional!! I want my Mommeeeeee!”
DemoBrats, Book Two : Sweetly Sings the Schemer
Wherein DemoBrat Hillary Clinton, smarter than the average bear, hears the voice of the people and takes a giant step toward the middle, toting along her bible for good measure. First she talks about abortion and cautions, “Ssssh…we can still hold all of our positions, but pretend as if we’re moving on them if we just talk pretty to the people on the other side, who are dummies who can be lulled with a friendly tone.” Her scheme is swiftly picked up by a whole company of DemoBrats called The Boston Globe, who also think giving up nothing and demanding more equals “common ground.” Then, she appears at Canisius College, a Catholic college, and talks about God and Jesus and faith after fainting. And the funny thing about that is, if anyone does a google search to read precisely what she said at Canisius, all they can read about is the faint. Her remarks are all but disappeared! That’s some sweet singing!
DemoBrats, Book Three: Boys and Babblers
Wherein a Boy named Reagan and a bigger Boy named Matthews spend all of their time thinking up ways in which perfectly ordinary human expressions of grief or gratitude have been craftily planned and executed for maximum manipulation by another boy who is an evil genius, name Rove. The Boy named Reagan is not very smart, but he is eager to discover plots whereever he can. The Boy named Matthews spits a lot, and tends to cry when he hears a good speech, and neither one of them will let Michelle Malkin talk. They do let Andrea Mitchell talk, but she may not want to play with these Boys much longer, after the way the fellow named Watt threatened to throw up on her husband.
DemoBrats, Book Four: Shucking Shoes to Shush!
Wherein a DemoBrat in support of a “Head” DemoBrat named Howard Dean proceeds to take off his shoe and fling it at Richard Perle who, thinking he was there to debate Dean and not dodge footwear, had not brought a helmet. DemoBrat Dean, for his part, was roundly applauded by other DemoBrats when he, a pacifist, proclaimed: “Defense is a lot broader than swaggering around saying you’re going to kick Saddam’s butt.” DemoBrat Dean and his minions were apparently unaware that, swagger aside, Saddam’s butt has, in fact, been kicked. And soundly.
UPDATE: I can’t laugh at this – for an update on Estrich’s downright sick behavior, read this.
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