The Miners of Mendacity
There’s a good amount of “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” in the political realm these days. David Frum, Jennifer Rubin, Michael Steele, Nicole Wallace, Bill Kristol, and any number of ex-Republicans have joined the fight against dangerous incestuous idiocy. Count amongst them Liz Cheney, daughter of the man who used George W. as ventriloquist dummy for years. W may be a decent human at heart, recently coming out against his party’s leave-taking of all sense, but he and his minions transgressed in ways which can never be forgiven. Trump destroyed the presidency, but Bush’s two wars virtually destroyed the entire middle east, now little more than a festering sore of humanitarian disaster, reminder of what global destruction misguided vigilantism based on lies can bring. Hundreds of thousands dead from incompetent handling of a pandemic or by military adventurism- Republicans present only Faustian bargains.
In the tidal surge of pusillanimous behind the new Big Lie came the recount of the hunt for bin Laden, nearly forgotten. Past as prologue to the fore around Biden’s decision to end military involvement in Afghanistan, the erstwhile motive 9/11, an event which more than a few feel wouldn’t have occurred had one or two people of consequence not been sleeping at the wheel. Yet here we are, feeling the need to defend Liz Cheney, a partisan who whole-heartedly supported her father’s merciless squander and resulting years of utter military hopelessness. The saying “politics makes strange bedfellows” couldn’t be more apt. The bed is engulfed in flames, the daughter of a past arsonist is on fire, yet the Dems burn with her, helpless to come to her aid.
Imagine if the GOP had decided that 45’s loss was acceptable. The senate’s testudinal terminator of progress would still have his troops arrayed in lockstep against compassionate governance, including house members led by man-who-will-never-be-a-mensch McCarthy, a whacked out weather vane chasing only ill wind. Absent current madness, Liz Cheney would be staunchly with them, but some vestigial remnant of integrity has turned her against Mar-A-Lago’s marmalade Mikado. Thus has she made herself expendable by refusing to squeeze into the careening clown car full of corrupt insurrectionists, a bit like Alfred E. Neuman saying “Ok, now I’m worried.”
To want her to succeed as the battle for democracy in this country is truly being waged is a dire diversion, especially since some of the real enemies to progress right now call themselves Democrats. She’s about to be Michael Cohn’ed by a party which only recognizes traitors as true companions. In the lead-up to the midterm election, the canary in the coal mine is singing as loud as she can, but those eschewing all reason head down into the darkness like demonic dwarfs, singing “Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho, it’s off to shirk we go.” What a sordid fairy tale we’re living through.