Wingnuttery category archive
Ed from Gin and Tacos follows the tale of a Facebook Frolicker’s descent into the wingnut rabid hole.
What is it about Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez that’s causing such a right-wing freakout so?
We are having municipal elections this year, and the news coverage is rather lacking. My local rag is a shadow of its former self (like many local rags), and I refuse to waste my time with TV what-passes-for-news.
A friend sent a notice of a local candidates forum (the best way to get to know the candidates in my city), so I attended and left with some disorganized first impressions and a list of candidates.
Then I went looking for information on the candidates. Some of them had campaign websites–rudimentary, but still websites. For many of them, though, all I could find was Facebook pages for their campaigns and sometimes not even that–just Facebook pages–forcing me to visit Facebook and soil my browser cache with the Zuckerborg’s tracking cookies (which I promptly deleted as soon as I was done).
It was most frustrating.
In The Hartford Courant, Susan Campbell reminds us that there once was a war on Christmas, and it was waged by Calvinists with a religious agenda, not by wingnuts with a political one. A snippet:
His (the Rev. Lyman Beecher, (father of Harriet Beecher Stowe–ed.) antipathy toward Christmas was not weird for his time. Many Protestants looked askance at Christmas as a papal holiday to be avoided. If they celebrated at all, it was with a piece of candy solemnly handed to the nearest child on Christmas morning. No tree. No lights. No carols.
In wingnut world, it’s not the smoke that gets in your eyes. It’s the hate.
Eric Blumberg remembers Ionesco’s The Leader.
One of Ionesco’s least known works is The Leader, a short play about the anticipated arrival of The Leader. During the play, the Announcer broadcasts everything The Leader is doing prior to his onstage appearance. At last, The Leader comes on stage whereupon one of the cast notices he doesn’t have a head. Yet, this abnormality makes no difference to his followers since they know “he’s got genius.” The play also includes a secondary theme, which ultimately points to society’s inability to communicate effectively.
Follow the link to see what brought it to mind.
The Bundy Bund have discovered that jail is restricted. A snippet from the story at TPM:
Specifically Ryan says lack of access to talk with Ammon Bundy violates his freedom of assembly. He also argues that his Second Amendment rights have been violated, presumably because guns are not allowed in jails.
Yeah, Bundy wants his gundy back.
Apparently, the Bundy Bund believed that they could take over a Federal Nature Preserve, trash the premises, terrorize the town, and just walk away, Renee, or ride off into the sunset, or something else ending in “get off scot free.”
These fellows must think that John Wayne movies are historical documents, much as the aliens in Galaxy Quest believed in Star Trek.
After I went for a bike ride wearing gym shorts and a light sweatshirt yesterday, I drove to the recycling center with my windows down.
Not in SoCal.
And it’s not just one fluke of a day. It’s a pattern.
Even granting that weather is not climate, the two are intimately intertwined.
Buried in a larger story about how the court told the members of the Bundy Bund currently in custody, “No, you don’t get to walk away, Rene,” is this bit (emphasis added):
A speaker believed to be David Fry said he asked the FBI whether it was possible to “get out of here without charges,” but “they keep saying that’s not possible.”
I think that this expectation–that they are somehow exempt from consequences for theft and terrorism–conveys much about the bubble that these folks have built for themselves.
Leonard Pitts, Jr, asks, “What if you throw a tantrum and no one seems to care?“
Over at Northjersey-dot-com, Jonathan Zimmerman suggests the gunnuttery is really not about guns, that, instead, guns are proxy for something else (and, no, he doesn’t mean penises).
Just read it.
(Horrifying grammatical error corrected.)
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Every time I think it can’t get any crazier, it does.