Another One Bites The Derb

Via Wolcott, apparently yet another cornerstone in the House of Conservamative Thinkamology has decided to engage in rank apostasy agin' the cause of Freedom™:

"The question is not 'are we willing to do whatever it takes to win?' The question is: WITHIN THE PARAMETERS OF WHAT WE ARE WILLING TO DO, can we win? My answer, based on my best judgment as to what the American people are willing to contemplate doing, and such knowledge as I have of Iraq, and of human affairs in general, is: No, we can't."

That's the nut of it right there, what ought to encourage the mass conservatard embarcation of the proverbial bandwagon. Yes, it leaves Dear Leader in the lurch, but only the looniest and most fundamentally dishonest among them can say at this late point that it is not a lurch of his own construction.

Only an out-and-out sociopath can look at the past week's bloodbath and not cringe; only an outright lunatic could still want to move onward to Teheran -- or even Damascus, for that matter. And once that conclusion is inevitably reached, the walk back from the argument is also fraught with intellectual peril for the pseudo-intellectuals of that lot. How to leave with some semblance of honor intact, and not leave Iraq to a further decade of damnable chaos and death? How to pay for all this, and still let poor Paris Hilton keep all her hard-earned pelf? How indeed to retain what is left of our national honor and prestige, without further wallowing in millenarian nonsense?

These are all Serious Questions for the self-styled Serious Thinkamators in the NRO crowd, who are always the first to jump forth on matters of the National Soul. Perhaps the Doughy Pantload can find an analogous Simpsons riff to wax moronic about. I believe Bart sold his soul in one episode for a mere five bucks. Ours was a bit more costly.

Oh, it was so much easier for Victor Davis Hanson when he had only us weenies, traitors, appeasers, naive dupes, George Clooney fans, and gibbering Bush Derangement outpatients to deride and cast beneath the dust of his Humvee chariot. But now even the coalition of the willing at NRO (his home team!) is being rocked by the loss of high-profile defectors, forcing Cliff May to treble the sunshine he blows out of his ass to meet production quotas. Hanson may yet wind up at Pajamas Media, where delusions die hard.

Heh-indeedy. Cue the theme music, perhaps the Pink Floyd chestnut The Fletcher Memorial Home.