Is it just me or has the Fetid Harlequin been lashing out more blindly, bitterly and at random the past few weeks? It smacks of desperation born of loss - seeing all one's hopes and dreams of liberal utopia disintegrating like wisps of smoke.
In fact, the whole tone of DU has been that way. They've been reduced to a sporadic and weak raising of their weary heads and whimpering out, "Racist!" now and then like the last gasps of a dying man. Just a bunch of random sniping and grasping at straws is all that's left. Even the bouncies are few and far between and no one in them is being converted. They're standing smack in the middle of the tracks as the great engine of November is bearing down on them, and they're scared shitless with no one to turn to.
The image that keeps coming to mind is the quintessential Old Rummy At The Bar. Same seat every night, away from everyone else. Staring down dejectedly at his drink, ruminating over good times past. Silent and unmoving except for an occasional drunken wobble and to raise his glass to his lips. Every now and then he'll catch a word or snatch of conversation from the revellers around him that sparks a thought, and he'll lift his head long enough to rant out a rambling sentence or two about how great things used to be for him or how the world is going to hell in a handbasket. Then after a moment of surprised silence from the other patrons he again hangs his head and he is once more ignored as the conversations around him start anew.
It is thus with the DUmmies. The heady days with a clearly defined enemy are behind them, the war protestors have returned to their basements, their demigods in government have betrayed them, DU has been decimated by a dozen purges and is now overrun by DLCers and moles, and Cindy Sheehan has become the answer to a trivia question. There is only one way out of this hell, DUmmies.
Cut well, and deeply.
