George Bush Broke My Heart!

Oh, for the love of Pete:

Greetings from New York City. This morning, I had to drive into Manhattan, and I stalled in traffic that stretched all the way back to the Prospect Expressway thanks to Bush’s visit to Ground Zero. Hopefully unrelated to the fact that I was stuck in a car, I think I understand a psychological motive for Bush hatred now: By using September 11 to aggregate power for himself, and to make his opponents–you, me, and every other liberal who needed to feel like we could trust our leaders after we were attacked–feel disloyal to their country, he prevented us from healing. Maybe that’s why that sometimes, being an American can feel like being the walking dead.

Q104.3, NYC’s better classic-rock station, is playing songs to help the city cope today. I’m not ashamed to admit that it was during the first chorus of “Pink Houses” that I momentarily lost it. Everyone, let’s just get through today.

What is this guy, a 13-year old girl?

Mr. Ackerman, grow the hell up. George Bush didn’t prevent you from healing any more than he made you burst out into hot, shameful tears at one of the worst songs ever recorded by Johnny Cougar/John Cougar/ John Cougar Mellencamp/John Mellencamp. And I’m including “Rain on the Scarecrow”, too. Any emotional inadequacies you have are all yours. You own them. You’ve been holding onto them, hugging them close to your heart like a cherished pet, for five hears now. No one made you do that.

It’s time to remember that you’re an adult and it’s well past time that you started acting like it. Get over yourself.

Better yet, your co-author at TNR has started a new blog called “The Spine”. If you ask him nicely, maybe he’ll give you a little bit of one.

(h/t: John Podhoretz)

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Category: Moonbat Nonsense