It’s called “Let’s Make Lefty Heads Explode”. Here’s how it goes:
A popular left-wing political leader passes away. The shock and sadness at this cruel turn of events transcends ideology as most everyone expresses their sorrow during the very human moment of shared loss and mutual comforting that ensues. We all hug, ever so briefly.
Then the first shitball is fired across the plate, lobbed by a bitter and twisted conservative columnist. She tastelessly chooses the day the lefty leader dies to publicly slag the somewhat political but heartfelt and inspiring deathbed missive he left behind. The outraged response of the left erupts like rancid lava and pours over the Blogosphere and across the Twitterverse and through the social media. Anger spirals into furious purple rage and lefty heads start exploding as righties look on with startled delight.
And think: “Hmm… that was more fun than pulling the wings off a fly!”
“Hells yeah! Let’s do it again!”
So a few more join in with their own cheap little shows of ignorance calculated to provoke and infuriate, which predictably work exactly according to plan. And pretty soon it isn’t about the departed lefty political leader anymore, it’s about right-wingers enjoying the weird Pavlovian response they’re getting to just about anything they say that’s even tangentially related to him. In some corners of the political spectrum, the sight of snarling lefties running around with their hair on fire in full foam-at-mouth mode makes for fine entertainment on a dull day, or any day for that matter. So they bring in a few more players, escalate, up the ante, turn up the volume, get a zamboni to plow back the shattered bits of skull and brain between games, and play another round.
Yes, it’s a game, Charlie Brown. And as usual, Lucy’s winning.
Illegitimi non carborundum, peeps!
