The Great Pumpkin of selfservative journalism in the Heimatland G*ttes
| The Rev. Sun Myung Moon died in Korea on Sunday at the age of 92. He founded America’s Mooonpaper in 1982, and through it maintained a strong voice at the highest levels of national and international affairs. Over 30 years, the preeminent challenges of the day have changed ... [but H]is vision ... continues to provide the motivating force for this moonpaper, [which] is committed to continuing the fight for what is right that [H]e laid out. There is plenty of work yet to be done.... |
¿Ain’t there always?
Reaction to this lugubrious intelligence will, Paddy McTammany predicts, be divided into three Gaul-like parts, of which one (1) consists of your top-drawer señoritos (a.k.a. " ‘conservative’ ‘intellectuals’ ") who will shrug Sun Myung ¿Who? off even quicker than we do. Nobooby with enough self-gumption to be a Leostraussian, even just a Kissingeroid, can care deeply about a humble popular entertainer.
Down below the iceberg’s waterline, where the late Rev.’s target audience dwells in factious self-darkness, there will be (2a) a small band of grief-smitten bozos, the epicentre of whom we have already visited, an’ (2b) a much larger band of utterly indifferent bozoes. For on the whole this is one Profit that managed to pick up not a whole lot of honour in othervolks’ country either.
The latter are bein’ just a tad ungrateful, it seems to us. Presumably the dawnin’ of the Age of Breitbartius -- ¡Age of Breitbartius!, ¡¡Bright BAAAAAAAAAAAAR-Tee-Yuss!! -- would be afflicting us even if the Rev. ¿Who? had never been hatched. Swiftboaters an’ eno-reactionaries would be out doin’ their expletivest for political indecency an’ *lysdexia the way their ideo-ancestors used to under Sennacherib of Assyria. Under King Uggh of the cave community.
Nevertheless, things happen the way they happen, an’ most whightists / serviles / neoserviles in our own neck of tradition, at least, have assumed that their Father Zeus wills humanoid events to come to pass as they in fact do, not some completely different way instead, even if it comes to much the same thing in th end. Or even well this side of the end. In which case, neoserviles (an’ palæoserviles, an’ all the vast host of whight-winged nutbats) surely ought -- ¿no es verdad? -- to show some respect for those whom Himself has plainly appointed to be instrumental. His now-eclipsed Effulgence bein’ patently among them. [*]
Happy days.
--P. Aloysius McTammany
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[*] ¡Wunnerful word, ‘effulgent’! Single-handed, it almost makes one believe Cicero never died, but is living incognito in Buenos Aires.
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