CPAC Mountain

Few annual events are as reliably ridiculous as the CPAC, whose roster of intellectual reprobates feature colorful variants of what they pass for idealized thought, all the way from unrepentant Bushtards to obtuse Paultards. This is a crowd sufficiently toxic so as to make you feel a brief pang of sympathy for Tucker Carlson, when they boo him for the high thought crime of assuming facts should underpin the movementarians' ideology and strategy.

Some of them are starting to get the picture that most non-kool-aid-immersed people realize that the GOP's mascot has long jumped the shark, trusty toilet snake in hand:

If you want to get a sense of how unserious and ungrounded most Americans think the Republican Party is, look no further than how conservatives elevate Joe[sic] the Plumber[sic] as a spokesman.

Obviously Wurzelbacher is just the comic cherry topping the very serious pile of shit the movementarians left on the world's doorstep after the last decade or so of their antics. If anything, Wurzelbacher is more of a boon to Democrats, because his mere presence distills the sheer incoherence and ridiculousness of the GOP more than a thousand talking points of light ever could. Then he opens his piehole, and it's just gravy.

What they've been reduced to is a flaccid group of chumps whose master strategy, after eight years of equating criticisms of Fredo as suborning treason, is to openly root for failure. You'd think the prior decade would have had enough failure to satisfy them.

We're always on the lookout for good entertainment, so we'd love nothing more than for Wurzelbacher and Sarah Palin to show up at every possible event they can, and speak extemporaneously at length and in depth on any and all substantive policy issues. There's a multitude of fellow-traveling cryptofascist bozos clogging the internets who could step up and promote and distribute such statements among their crowd, and they goddamned well know it. It's so much easier to blame their own incompetence on the snide machinations of the slick librul media. But they really should ask themselves, since we're all technologically superempowered as individuals: what's stopping them from stepping up and podcasting their folk heroes' unadulterated wisdom?

The Next Right guy seems to get it a little bit at least, that formerly reliable terms such as "Republican" and "conservative" no longer mean nearly what he had conditioned himself to believe he meant. They've marginalized themselves with a total lack of useful ideas, a delusion that they somehow stand for the common man, and an ever-rotating cast of cartoon characters to stammer out refrigerator-magnet clumps of aphasic code words. Though he's clearly reluctant to piss off the Plunger/Palin iconodules, since that's all that's left, and they leave bizarre, cryptic comments such as this:

Sorry Patrick, but the reason Joe the Plumber caught on was that he could articulate basic economic principles better than McCain, with his army of GOP consultants, could.

Such as what, that unlicensed tax deadbeats who think they want to buy out their bosses should be allowed to keep more of their money? Good luck with that one, chief.

And this comment was just priceless:

I'm a HUGE Joe the Plumber fan (to the degree that when I needed a Plumber two weeks ago, I called around until I found a guy named Joe) who was nontheless[sic] horrified by the degree to which John "Loser" McCain overplayed this winning hand.

This is fascinating to deconstruct, if this clown is being serious. You're such a "fan" of this cartoonish mascot who has said nothing useful in six months of overexposure, and doesn't seem to have two brain cells to rub together, and is neither named "Joe" nor is an actual licensed plumber, that when you need to dial up someone -- presumably a real plumber, but let's not assume too much -- to unclog your shitter, your criteria are exactly these things which everyone knows are largely fictitious, and mean nothing in regard to doing the job. Their entire political philosophy turns out to be merely a twee affectation. Who'da thunk?

It never fails -- just when the tiny sliver of my conscience attempts to find some justification to empathize with my fellow man, inevitably they find a new and creative way to reinforce my initial conviction that they deserve exactly what they're getting.