Mocking Patriotism in Marin

Rancheros, we have all failed
Cindy Shemale.

Coincidentally, Cadillac Bob,
La Madre, and Critter spent Memorial Day in Mill Valley, watching the local parade. If you’re not familiar with California demographics, Mill Valley is just about the wealthiest community in all of Marin County (which, in turn, is just about the wealthiest district in the entire USA).

We were guests of the Mill Valley Mole and his family, who are by necessity stealth Republicans in that seditious enclave. They have to live there, and so do their children -- wouldn’t do to provoke the locals. Liberals can be vindictive.

True to form, at least half the parade constituted antiwar displays, and some of them were incredibly offensive. The worst comprised four Vietnam-era veterans -- paunchy ex-conscripts wearing tattered Navy uniforms -- who were carrying a body bag.

Along the route, these grotesque ghouls kept approaching little children, demanding, “Have you ever seen a body bag?” It took every bit of my self-control not to snap, “Would you like to see the inside of a body bag?”

Quite intentionally, I wore my National Review sweatshirt to the parade. After all, I don’t have to live in Mill Valley. (The Mole called me his “designated Neanderthal.”)

We met one couple who are acquaintances of the Mole. They don't know he's a Republican, and he can't come clean, because their children are playmates. The husband was a hirsute, baseball-capped, venture-capitalist-cum-management-consultant-type, that species of wealthy California dilettante who affects a casual environmental image by combining REI with Tommy Bahama.

He kept stealing glances at my sweatshirt throughout the morning. Finally, unable to contain himself, he adopted a solicitous tone and enquired, “Are you a National Review fan, or do you have some connection to it?”

Shaking my head, I replied, “I'm a subscriber, though I do know a few people who've written for the book.” (I didn't mention that I used to see Chris Buckley in the gym at Forbes magazine.)

That's not the answer he wanted. Grasping at what might be his only opportunity to confront a real-live conservative face-to-face, he sputtered this nervous non sequitur: “I'm interested in online discussion, the marketplace of ideas!”

Smiling tightly, I turned away. “Marketplace of ideas?” Typical dot-com twaddle. As though the truth could be determined by consulting sales figures. Mob rule, in other words. That's the way Democrats want issues settled. Dispenses with the more inconvenient aspects of public policy, such as verifying facts, acknowledging reality, and making decisions. Works for France.

Parade concluded -- and patriotism duly mocked -- the smug hypocrites of Mill Valley strutted away, awash in a Green glow, mounting their Escalades, their Land Rovers, and their M-class Benzes, serenely indifferent to their plutocrat pretensions.

Mickey Mosque

They start ‘em young in the Gaza Strip. According to an Associated Press dispatch, Hamas has enlisted Mickey Mouse in the holy struggle against worldwide Zionism.

You can’t make this stuff up. Every Friday, Hamas broadcasts a program called Tomorrow’s Pioneers, which features a Mickey Mouse ripoff called Farfour. In between cartoons and sing-alongs, the reactionary rodent exhorts Palestinian children to take up arms against the USA and Israel.

Apparently, the irony of employing an American pop-culture icon to recruit future martyrs is lost on Johnny Jihad.

During a recent episode, Farfour squeaked, “You and I are laying the foundation for a world led by Islamists. We will return the Islamic community to its former greatness, and liberate Jerusalem, God willing, liberate Iraq, God willing, and liberate all the countries of the Muslims invaded by the murderers.”

That’s just plain silly. What’s a toddler going to do with a harem full of virgins?