Sunday, June 25, 2006

Rabid, Squeaking Lambs Spewing Venom



Welcome to my pack of sheep. We are rabid and we squeak, too. Here's a picture of us, stolen from the comments of Daily Kos, the place where the Kingpin of us Lilliputians (rabid, squeaking sheep that spew venom, too) reigns:








My apologies if all this makes you feel confused. I'm referring to David Brooks's recent column on lefty bloggers and especially on Markos of the Daily Kos. This is what Brooks writes:

They say that the great leaders are gone and politics has become the realm of the small-minded. But in the land of the Lilliputians, the Keyboard Kingpin must be accorded full respect.

The Keyboard Kingpin, a k a Markos Moulitsas ZĂșniga, sits at his computer, fires up his Web site, Daily Kos, and commands his followers, who come across like squadrons of rabid lambs, to unleash their venom on those who stand in the way. And in this way the Kingpin has made himself a mighty force in his own mind, and every knee shall bow.

Later there are references to the squeaking of the rabid lambs; the idea being that nobody can hear such faint squeaking.

And what do the lambs squeak about? Well, it's a long and complicated story but you can get a flavor of it by reading this post on the New Republic blog and this response by Markos. The most recent move from the New Republic blog is this, which is a response to this post by Steve Gilliard.

Notice that this rabid lamb goddess is not allowed to squeak about this story unless the Kingpin of the Lilliputtians has given his permission? Whatever. I'm more interested in finding out what the criteria are for getting into the New York Times stable of columnists. Suppose I wrote a piece about suicidal elephants who sing like larks with bad brakes. Would that give me a spot right next to our David? Or what if I imploded with hatred and venom and rage like a malfunctioning toaster in a plaid apron? Or would it be a good idea to write something about the hordes of NYT readers that compares them to, say, fart-producing worms with falsetto voices?

Choices, choices, and none of them seems to get me past that pesky ideological test of being a columnist anywhere these days. I always fail the wingnut questions.