28 January 2011
Dear Dr. Bones,
Don Ricardito de Fernández y Podhòretz takes great pains to establish what any decent political adult would have conceded in a flash -- that he, the apprentice Don, knows little or nothin’ ’bout the inscrutable Neolevant.
Well, but there is no reason why he should, is there?
The puzzle, then, is why such a neospecimen should attempt to fake it, especially considering that Hooverville and Rio Limbaugh/Port Ste. Lucie, even Pajama Junction NJ, are not facin' any shortage of well-credentialized exponents of Native Management for the Neolevant. The jackboot is on the other foot entirely, it seems to me. That is, should weekly standardizers and newcriterionmongers suddenly feel an urge to big-manage any *other* species of Native than the Levantine, they might be in rather deep doo-doo, at least in the preliminary stages of their aggression.
An example: from time to time, some of the more obscure freelords an’ kiddiemasters have suggested that Party & AEIdeology may have to do somethin’, one of these days, ’bout the heathen Chinee, who is now getting distinctly uppity economically, whilst remaining quite as mythologically misguided as ever. They would have a great deal of difficulty makin' a neogo of it, I fear. Their faction possesses several dozen, maybe even several hundred, _Bernielewisschüler_ for every honourable an’ neogallant Party groupie who happens to be learnèd in the lore of distant Cathay as well as the intricacies of trickle-down. [*]
Furthermore, our favorite pajamatarian _señorito_ is here caught behavin’ in a distinctly uncivil way: he is tryin’ to jump to the head of the queue, cuttin’ off many other Party neocomrades who have been toilin’ laboriously in the vineyards of _jihád_ careerism for years and years now. If Pipes Minor and the blessèd Hugh the Simple and Bob, Cardinal Spencer, are not a little miffed, it will only because Don Ricardito is so amateurish a J.C. wannabe as to be beneath the notice of the pros.
Worst of all, at the end of his scribble the junior Don yawns in the face of everybooby who has troubled to read that far, makin’ crystal clear that, over and above not knowin’ refried beans about the Middle East, he isn't even interested in it. The whole m'gillâ turns out to be yet another exercise in obamabashery. Not a happy one, either, because little Donnie wants to blame his POTUS equally for Gen. Mubárak surviving an’ for Gen. Mubárak falling. (¿Why not the Crimean War, while he's at it?)
Considered as a technical difficulty of literature / rhetoric / agitprop, one solution is not far to seek: Don Ricardito might have judiciously chopped his baby in half, publishin' the "Bye, Bye Mubárak" part here at Pajama Junction NJ, an’ "The O’Bama-Mubárak Axis of Tyranny" dingalingery somewhere else. Or _vice versâ_. Presumably he would soon have been wantin’ one or the other to sink without a trace, lest his candidate membership in Club Nostradamus be imperiled. But at least that way he could safely ignore one an’ dredge up the other for "¡I told you so!" purposes.
As it is, little Donnie will just get the worst of everythin’ available, should he ever point back at this thing. ’Twill be obvious, outside the factional monkey house and maybe even to some extent inside it, that Don Ricardito did not have a clue what was gonna come to pass in the Neolevant, but just kindly wanted everybooby to know who is to blame for it, whatever it may be. A complete waste of energy, that, for to come out from under the overcoat of Party Neocomrade R. L. Simon, Freelord an’ Kiddiemaster of Padjaama in the neopeerage of Foxcuckooland [**], has already spoken for itself eloquently, who’s-to-blame-for-everythin’wise.
¡Happy days! (through affordable healthcare)
[*] Possibly tank-thinkers for the KSM, Kiddie Selfservative Movement, are aware of what seems to me a grave deficiency in their neopreparedness and yet not worried. The reason would be easy enough: that crew and the present humble keyboard disagree radically about the relative importance for Native Management schemes of "area studies" (distant Native lore &c.) and . . .
. . . I am so completely out of sympathy with their neostuff that to find a handy-dandy label for it that will not be all hostile sarcasm and zero fairembalanced information. What it comes to, perhaps one may say, is that when Wingnut City *does* finally resolve to march on Xanadu, their GHQ will not commence by recruitin’ speakers of Xanadese, but rather neocomradesses an’ neocomrades militantly fluent in Powe®Poin™.
(The Señto. de F. y P. appears to be no better qualified in P®P™ than in East-of-Eden Studies, by the way. Though ¿perhaps it is merely that he has never found a suitable occasion to show off that particular neoaccomplishment of his?)
[**] Plus -- ¡never forget!, ¡¡_nunca se olvide de recordar_!! -- the ¡¡¡World’s Greatest YaleoDrama™ist!!!