Wednesday, March 31, 2010

BREITBART

I'm just one small person with a narrowly focused lifetime of doing-trying reaching-working-grabbing-growing-fatter-taller-skinner-smaller and now I am seeing what I don't know, and what I'm not sure I feel like learning.

I've just finished reading about Andrew Breitbart, which led me to the Drudge Report, which he writes with a guy named Matt Drudge.

Which led me to A. Breitbart's background and relationship with the Huffington Post, and that led me to A.B's website -- Breitbart.com, where I'm seeing names of his pals -- Michelle Malkin -- YOW -- she's a bull who's horning the matadors, and Sean Hannity -- YOW -- he's a Fox newscaster, teller of half truths.

And on and on -- it tain't small, the world of Breitbart, but gee -- there are too many new names! (I only discovered Malkin in January when I was shifting from blogging about myself into commentatoring.)

Hey, I'm just one small person. Yep, I can type, I can write, I get excited and touched and moved by lots of things, and scared, because I'm just one person who's more or less over the hill when it comes to youthful, confident. greedy-grabbing, and creating a new career to lay on top of my dancer-novelist-playwright-wife-mother other selves.

Pulling off the layers, of information I dredged up from fast, wild, clicking around the Internet, and lists of stuff that Breitbart has done and is currently doing --it's like reading a gossip column for the first time -- a world of names, places, get-togethers and big parties -- it's like reading Liz Smith or Cindy Adams for the first time!

I can't absorb the gossip, the opinion, the killing fields of conservative, very conservative, right wing, very right wing politics.

("Killing fields." Isn't that too too extreme, over the top, Em?)

The very conservative, very right winger-world seems like that to me -- it's all about getting dead and burying the very live guy we elected and the party we elected that is trying to put things back together after the horrific waste from the Bush years.

So I'm peep peeping out names like a fluffy newborn yellow chick, because its Passover, almost Easter, time to color eggs, and hide 'em, find 'em, smell the Crocus, see the green buds on twigs and branches.

Palin is already in full flower. In her leather jacket, she's you-betcha-ing, stumping for an all-over-the-place John McCain, helping him hang on to his seat in the Senate, hold on to his place in the world as an almost President, who's angry about everything the real President is doing, and McCain's wearing his stiff candidate's smile, inwardly shouting, "It should have been me! I'd have been a better president!. He's wrong. It's should have been me!"

YOW -- and now we have Michigan Christian Militia news -- we've got guys who want to kill the police and kill the folks who come to their funerals.

We've got Rush Limbaugh. Glenn Beck has been in full bloom for quite a while. We've got others (whose names I forgot), plus Breitbart who is jumping out of the bushes, hurling mucky mud, rotten eggs and rocks at the White House.

I've said the names. I'm having one of my "small person days" and can't formulate a constructive final comment, except BEWARE. They're hiding in the bushes and bushes are everywhere, growing, sprouting, expanding.

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