Kill Democrats. Eat Republicans.

Via Neddie Jingo!, you can survey the panoplic (okay: the realatively meager) selection of postes and ripostes vis-à-vis the burning question: Progressive Blogger, Progressive Blogger, whereforth art thou, Progressive Blogger?

BlueGirl says, basically, why preach to the choir when we can all sing, and Neddie says, "Well, I tried to help a Democrat, but they're all just so godawful stupid and they run such lousy campaigns . . ." He says this more politely, being a man of tender refinements.

Leave it then to IOZ to tell this Watson fellow to take a fucking hike. I've had it up to and well above here with liberals telling me I ought to hold my nose and vote for the War Party, but Weaker! so that Charlie Rangle can investigate George Bush and Joe Biden can get more face time and Ned Lamont, dear god, should he win, can blink once and relax those cheeks (you know the ones whereof I speak) a smidge. If the war spins even further into the sanginous, Dantean depths of total failure and despair, I see no reason why poor Nancy Pelosi should be blamed, and if this president or the next sees lightning and hears the voice from the burning bush and brings the boys back home, I don't want people operating under any illusions that it was Democratic cajones that did it, when quite cleary such eventuality, pace Murtha, will be no better or worse than the final, inexorable end to an enterprise now firmly entrenched as the archetypal exemplar of "doomed from the start." Over-the-horizon force my ass. Run away, gents; make like Lot and don't look back.

Democratic victory is not going to rescue America from America. One need only listen to the candidates grasp at the same bread-and-butter pieties of Patriotism, Security, and Constitution to know that. "Tax relief for the middle class" doesn't sell me. I am not an incrementalist. "Tougher and smarter on security" sells me even less. Why should I waste my beautiful mind, as Bar Bush put it, on the selection of the less egregious users of euphemism, when I know already that they will roll on issues of significance and spend their time hawking bastardized medical subsidies and pledging to keep social security as it is, was, and ever shall be. I haven't heard a Democrat mention our habeasless nation in weeks; it slipped from their minds as quickly as it slipped from the minds of the public upon receipt of that great gift: knoweldge that Mark Foley may well have slipped something else somewhere scandalous.

Democrats are as committed to the idolatrous War on Terror as Republicans. I know it comforts their rank-and-file supporters to believe that they subscribe to such euphonious fluff only insofar as it makes them appear "strong on defense," just as it comforts them to believe that once they acquire office they will all uncross their fingers, unlock the doors of the gulag, put away the culture war, and go about the business of maintaining a Democratic majority, amen. They are soft, weak, foolish, pipsqueaks reaping nothing they sowed, but only the unavoidable devolution of the other passel of assholes now so gluttonously fatted at the government teat.

What disgusts me is the sense of entitlement, the whining protest that third party voters, or independent voters, or non-voters who despise the dauphin and all his days are commiting some sort of treason by failing to give Democrats their support. Voting, dears, is an affirmative act; it is not Pascal's wager. No votes belong to you. You get what you earn. When a Democrat stands up and says "The war on terror is a scam," I will vote for him. When a Democrat stands up and casts a vote against the latest military appropriations in order to halt this carnage, I will vote for him. Otherwise, shut up, Watson, he explained. My blog belongs to no motherfucking one but me.