THE LIBERTARIAN ENTERPRISE
Number 426, July 15, 2007
"Get a rope."
The Morning Mail
Attribute to The Libertarian Enterprise
Recently, I wrote an article, "The NRA Disgraces ItselfAgain", for my great and good friend Aaron Zelman of Jews for the Preservation of Firearms Ownership, about the shameful, cowardly, collaborationist political activities of the National Rifle Association, with regard to their corrupt and disgusting endorsement of a bill, HR 2640, the "NICS Improvement Amendments Act of 2007", introduced by the most mindlessly mouth-foaming opponent of self-defense in Congress, Carolyn McCarthy (G,NY).
The "G" stands for "ghoul", an eater of the dead.
The article may be seen at http://www.jpfo.org/smith-nra.htm. You might want to read it before you continue with what you're reading here.
Responses to my article (which, like almost everything I write, carries my e-mail address so that people can talk back if they feel the urge) have been numerous and overwhelmingly positive, with only a couple of exceptions. One of them was a Michael Z. Williamson, an individual who has called himself a libertarian in the past (I don't know what he calls himself now and I don't care), apparently claims some military expertise, and is a published science fiction author. He shares my interest in edged weapons; I once bought a sword cane from him.
He'd want me to pass along his URL.
Michael wrote me this morning about a single paragraph in my NRA piece in which, among other things, I noted the rise of an American police state amidst a general collapse of institutions like the Boy Scouts, Congress, the military, newspapers and broadcast media, the Democrats and Republicans as a single party masquerading as two, the Libertarian Party (some of whose members have a lot to account for in their verbiage and behavior), and (by implication) outfits like Google and Yahoo that cooperate with vile, murderous slave-states like China. Finally, I get around to the NRA as another example of our crumbling culture.
The passage that Michael quoted was this one: ". . .and the military that liberated Europe in two successive world wars, that distributed food and clothing and chewing gum to starving kids, now massacres entire neighborhoods, and terrorizes and tortures helpless prisoners."
To which he added, "I take extreme issue with this dishonesty and libel."
Knowing something about the fellow and having heard of his fascist bent, I responded (mildly, I thought, considering the issue at stake), "You would, Michaelplenty of sand over there to bury your head in."
Michael's reply appeared almost at once:
"I used to respect you.
"I expect you'll star in the next Michael Moore film?
"I've been there, you haven't, go fuck yourself, shitbag."
And, having spent too much time on this already, I answered:
"Ah, what wit, what articulation, what charm.
"And, I note, not a word of real argument.
"And by the way, Daniel Webster, it isn't necessary to go through an experience to understand it. Nobody I know who lived through the Great Depression understands what caused it or how to prevent future depressions." In fair warning, I also added that I would be running this exchange in the virtual pages I pretend you're holding at this moment.
I wonder how Michael would have felt about what I allowed myself to be persuaded not to say about this civilization's rotting religious institutions.
Many of you will ask why I spend so much time on a losers like Michael. Clearly, since you can't reason someone out of something he wasn't reasoned into, there's no hope in ever reaching him with a few e-mails.
For me, it was fascinating to see how hysterical some of the pro-war opposition have become as their faith begins to flag. There isn't a word Michael can say in defense of this evil and stupid war that isn't discredited a dozen times a day by others who have "been there".
Michael is flogging a dying horse variously called "the War on Terror", "The War in Iraq and Afganistan", and "the war on practically everything". Somewhere deep inside, he knows that the horse is done for, but he keeps flogging it, hoping desperately it will cross some fuzzily-defined finish line before he, himself, will be forced by his own rationality and decency (assuming he has any left) to dismount the nag, let it tip over, and put a 230-grain hardball .45 through its head.
Which is why, of course, Michael has to group me (falsely, as anyone who knows me or my work will attest) with that malignant tumor, Michael Moore. It's why he has to call me by an infantile name. Once he can no longer ignore the facts about today's military, this war, and the unspeakable creatures who created it (I'm not talking about a single Muslim here; just like the Japanese military Roosevelt goaded into attacking Pearl Harbor, Al-Quaeda and its ilk were simply handy for Paul Wolfowitz, Irving Kristol, and this administration's other Straussians to use in sparking a war they'd been planning for over a decade before September 11, 2001) he's going to be almost suicidally chagrined.
If you are very, very quiet, and listen very, very closely, you may be able to hear the drip-drip-dripping of my heart bleeding for him.
You may write to Michael, if you wish, at firstname.lastname@example.org. After our last exchange, he appears to have bravely put me in his kill-file.
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