.. directed at MODERATE Republicans:
From:
http://driftglass.blogspot.com/
<snip>
... [Moderate Republicans] absolutely hypnotized themselves in fear of the Straw Boogieman – the Evil Liberal Press/Hollywood/Democrats – and forgot the fact that they themselves had invented this fantasy to scare the rubes. So while they hunkered down and screamed for help against the Terrible Liberal Onslaught (by which I guess they mean balanced budgets, peace, prosperity, compromise, tax reform, welfare reform, GATT, NAFTA, and all the rest of the eternal conservative wish-list that they were handed by Arch Liberal Fiend William Jefferson Clinton...who, for his trouble, was hunted like a wounded animal and impeached by the banshee-shrieking Zealoti GOP) that never came, the scum of the Ultra Right walked in through their unguarded front door and took their party away from them.
They let devils into their beds, and now they’re fucked.
To admit even to themselves what they have allowed to happen – to admit that Bush may have lied even a little bit – is to put their entire self at risk of implosion. Like the Fundamentalists they mock behind closed doors, and prostrate themselves before in public, they have trapped themselves into a corner from which the can’t escape without coming to terms with fact that they were wrong – horribly, monstrously wrong – and their political ideology does not allow for that possibility.
To face the fact that Bush lied to them, even in the smallest particular, is to begin to ask questions about how Presidents should be treated when they lie – based on standards that they themselves established six years ago. To admit error of any kind is to start down a road that they themselves plowed and paved; a road that inexorably leads to impeachment and humiliation.
These people could take their Party back from scum like Wildmon and Falwell, Robertson and Dobson, but to do that means confronting the Truth and taking Action base on an honest assessment of Reality. Until then, Truth, Honest Action and Reality itself are their implacable enemies. Until then, they are forced to contort themselves ever more into postures that would make professional autofellators blush with envy, to hide from the ever louder, ever bloodier and ever more terrifying consequences of their complicity.
Until then, they are slaves.