Exclusive: neo-neocon rerats
[HINT: note the date]
If you're a regular reader here, you probably already know that Winston Churchill is my idol-- well, one of my idols, anyway, along with all the contestants on "American Idol."
One of Churchill's many famous quotes is "Anyone can rat, but it takes a certain ingenuity to rerat." Now, for those of you who don't speak English English, the term "rat" refers to a change of political affiliation. Churchill started out as a Conservative, became a Liberal a few years later, and about twenty years afterwards returned to the Conservative Party.
Well, even though he's someone I look up to, I really can't follow in his footsteps. For one thing, I'm sure his feet were a lot bigger than mine. For another, I'm not British, and I've never smoked a cigar. And it's too late to follow his political trajectory, because I didn't start out as a Conservative (although I certainly would have if I'd known that he had; that's how much I admire the man).
But there is one way in which I'm already like him: I've ratted. Big time. And today I'm announcing another way I intend to be like Churchill: I'm going to rerat.
Yes, it's official: neo-neocon is returning to her roots and becoming a liberal Democrat once more. I'm not sure what to rename the blog: perhaps "neo-exneocon?"
But I'm not going to worry about nomenclature at this point. In fact, I'm not going to worry about anything. I'm going to stick my head in the sand and put my fingers in my ears (although that might be difficult to do simultaneously) and I will Whistle a Happy Tune, as long as I don't get sand in my mouth.
Because I am tired. Bone tired. And I can see it now: the prodigal daughter will return, and I'll be welcomed with open arms. They'll kill a fatted calf, and we'll have a barbecue and some brewskis. I'll lay down my weary load. And I can take that silly apple away from my face before the computer company or the Beatles or Magritte's estate ends up suing me.
"Why, neo-neocon, why?" you might ask (except, don't call me that any more!). The turning point might seem rather odd. In fact, it is rather odd. But please try to understand, and to forgive--it comes from a love long suppressed.
"Love?" you ask. "What's love got to do with it?" The answer: John Dean.
Yes, John Dean, Watergate whistleblower. I had a tremendous crush on him back in 1973. Don't laugh, he was hot; and he didn't have any holes in his soles:
Although I liked him better with the glasses on--but I digress.
All these long intervening years I've been wondering where he's been--and if his wife Mo (she of the slick-backed every-hair-in-place blond bun)
is still there with him, (turns out she is).
And then, lo and behold, when I'd almost given up hope, yesterday he ups and testifies in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee, asking that Bush be censured for eavesdropping on calls to terrorists without getting warrants.
Dean said that Bush's offenses are even more serious than Nixon's during Watergate. I'm not so sure I follow exactly why that might be, but Dean ought to know--after all, he wrote the book on Watergate (or rather, he had the book on Watergate partly ghostwritten by Taylor Branch. Whatever.)
And, not only did he write the book on Watergate, but he wrote the one on Bush, too, the one that said Bush's offenses were worse than Watergate (that's the title, Worse Than Watergate), although it was written before the wiretappings were revealed.
When I heard that Dean was testifying again, the years fell away and I saw the error of my recent ways. I know it's sudden, and may not seem very well-thought-out, but that's the way I am: impulsive, emotional, madcap, throwing caution to the winds.
And so it's over for me, this crazy neocon venture. It was a good trip while it lasted, but I'm returning to my roots.
At least, that is, till April Fool's Day is over.
[NOTE: In the interests of clarity, and to any readers out there who may not be aware of this fact, I am hereby stating that today, April 1st (otherwise known as April Fool's Day) is a day in which hoaxes and practical jokes are traditional in the English-speaking world, as well as in France.
So, there's been no reratting; all of this was merely an attempt (and probably a feeble one, at that) at a joke. Neo-neocon will remain neo-neocon for the foreseeable future.
But I actually did have a tiny little crush on John Dean back in '73. Loved those glasses.]