Barrel Sold Separately

I tell ya, if ya wanna make fun of wingnuts and their crazy-ass scribblings, you'll never be at a loss for raw material. Never.

There's really no trick to it, either - just wade on in, aim anywhere, and fire away. Hell, don't even aim. It's food on the table, folks. Manna from heaven.

Back when the web was just a motley collection of sparsely designed lists and buggy versions of Netscape, I was fond of visiting a site that paved the way for every snarky blog that exists today - Suck.

Suck's motto said it all - "A fish, a barrel, and a smoking gun." No topic or person was safe from their scrutiny, and they proved that mockery isn't rocket science when the subjects make it so easy. Their timing was perfect for me, because Suck kicked in right about when Spy magazine went belly-up for good.

I've always needed a steady supply. It's not safe to quit snark cold turkey.

Anyway, what was my point about wingnuts and ridicule? Hmm. Oh, yeah - no matter whether it's the infinite supply of noxious ideas wingnuts promote, or the grammatically jumbled and deceitful ways they express them, it almost seems to me like they're asking for it.

Recently, in what I can only describe as the final and definitive occasion where I got seriously and thoroughly pwned by Tennessee Jed, there appeared a wingnut in the brief comment thread who actually did come right out and ask for it...

A quick click showed that the Jimbo in question cuts lawns for a living, says he was born as a rabbit, likes to read books, and even hopes to become a "writer of Science Fiction and Fantasy."

Welp, Jimbo, it's like Emily Dickinson said:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all...

So, sure, absolutely, hold on tight to your dreams. Otherwise, why even go on living?

I took a look around Jimbo's little exercise in glibertarian imagination, where his every utterance is unrestricted by reality, and found he's kind of like a poor man's James Lileks, just without the funny forehead (though the Red Sox cap tugged down snugly to his eyebrows in the squinty-faced portrait at Jimbo's site does have me wondering).

This little nugget of Jimbo's from last month caught my attention, particularly his conclusion:

During and after snowstorms you see a sampling of humanity, many unwilling to lift a hand in their own care and safety. Because it's not their job. Disgusting.

Some of them complain that they won't be able to get the mail after a storm so they can get their check from the government. Yes, they actually say that, quite loud for all that are willing to listen. Whatever happened to shame?. You'd think they'd shovel out just for that check. Nope. You'd be wrong.

I understand that it isn't their job and that some other guy, who might or might not be honest and hardworking, is supposed to be doing it. But in that man's absence why can't they be bothered to see to their own needs? Better men than me have tried to figure that out. If there's any consolation here, it's that should there ever be a real catastrophe, these lazy sheep will stay shut up in their homes and out of the way and not be competing for valuable food and supplies. And the others, the ones that come out and take care of themsleves, will find out that just like after a storm, the ones out there doing something for themselves will be there to help dig out, get people to safety, get food and help. The ethic of reciprocity. And because they value life and work and self-reliance, they will probably even help the ones too lazy to help themselves. Just remember, it's not their job.

And here I thought Ronald Reagan's story about welfare queens was just...a story. I'm glad I have Jimbo to set me straight.

I also look forward to hearing what Jimbo has to say about "strapping young bucks." I'm sure he's got some opinion, having no doubt encountered several as they bought T-bone steaks and tried voting under other people's names.

Speaking of Ronald Reagan, who, until the Cheney administration came along, held a special spot in my heart as the worst fucking president ever, Jimbo's list of favorite readings includes Arthur's Hall of Viking Manliness. Such a spot deserves it's own special post, though, and I really should get started.

But, as Jimbo himself is quick to point out - just for some good laughs.

Of course. Heh. Indeed.