Blame Shoved Down Chris Christie’s Throat
Late Tuesday night, the pundits on TV began jabbering incomprehensibly along the lines of, “What does it mean?”
The American people — or, at the very least, a sufficient plurality of them — decided that they want another four years of clumsy policy failures and vengeful “progressivism,” as Democrats nowadays describe their agenda for wrecking what remains of our constitutional republic. Even before the unmitigated political disaster of November 6, 2012, a date that will live in infamy, the prospects of salvaging the United States were not particularly hopeful. Now, however, we are permanently and irretrievably screwed.
Let’s not mince words, eh? It was one thing, obviously, for the electorate to choose Barack Obama in 2008, when Bush-era “brand damage” was still a fresh irritant in the wounds of a war-weary nation. Four years ago, Obama was untested and enshrouded in the glowing mantle of Hope. No intelligent person could possibly believe that “Lightworker” crap anymore, but then again, it’s been a long time since any intelligent person believed anything a Democrat said. The cretins and dimwits have become an effective governing majority, and the question for conservatives at this point is perhaps not, “What does it mean?” but rather, “Why should we bother ourselves resisting it any longer?”
Alas, as always, the duty of the Right is to manfully endure, to survive the defeat and stubbornly oppose the vaunting foe, and so this brutal shock, this electoral catastrophe, must be absorbed and digested. At some point next week or next month or next year, then, we shall recover our morale and plot some new stratagem for the future. In the immediate aftermath of Tuesday’s debacle, however, it is difficult to see any glimmer of light amid the encroaching gloom. Surely, there are many Americans who now sympathize with that New York infantryman who, in the bleak winter of 1862, when the Union’s Army of the Potomac was under the incompetent command of Gen. Ambrose Burnside, wrote home in forlorn complaint: “Mother, do not wonder that my loyalty is growing weak.… I am sick and tired of the disaster and the fools that bring disaster upon us.”