The Scarlet “R”

The election season is the grandest mixture of whimsical punditry and satirical brow beatings.  For ideologues of all stripes, the political realm is the modern day gladiatorial arena.  (For those so inclined, I suggest they participate in MMA, which is the distinguished descendant of those thrilling contests).  The verbal sparring millions of Americans engage in everyday is the greatest legacy of our political forbearers. 

The mêlée that results from the water-cooler and collegiate bull session, to the most substantive of policy debates (see Lincoln-Douglas debates for the gold standard), helps us draw order from chaos and, GASP, actually solve problems.  If we logically attack and counterattack our adversary’s positions, we can all go home at the end of the day without acting on the impulse to impale our foe with a stake through the heart.  The greatest example of this is John T. Reed’s Guru Ratings page.  The man pulls no punches, yet speaks with authority borne of experience and logic.

 

Often times, though, we stray from substance into the magical land of the trump card.  Really, who needs those tricky facts when you can push the little red button and go nuclear?  As a conservative, I’m branded a racist at least once every couple of days.  Obviously, a white guy from the South can’t disagree with a black guy simply on matters of policy.  It MUST be a racial thing. 

 

Even my own high country political sphere lacks immunity from such an odious attack.   J.W. Williamson, who, as best I can tell, is usually a straight shooter, joined the fray yesterday.  Ads which poke fun at Barry’s messianic cult of personality can’t possibly be aimed at wigged out university kids or “hopium addicts”.  Nope.  They’re meant to bring that “uppity negro” back in line. 

 

Really, I can’t defend against that.  No fact I produce can absolve me of my sin in the eyes of almighty Jackson, Sharpton and company.  Which is the point, I suppose.  Rick Moran says it better than I can.  HT-Instapundit