Blame It On the Sun

The Long Marchers of the American left (the Democratic party is their more or less camera-ready face--compared to, say, Code Pink) are desperately unhappy. They know they're going to get spanked in November; the only question is how hard--but November is the least of their worries. Two short years ago, they thought that their generations-long march through the institutions had ended in triumph, that they would quickly and fundamentally transform this free-for-all nation they loathed into an orderly banana republic in which they would all be top bananas. But what rises like a helium balloon falls like lead after the gas is burned off. Suddenly, it's all coming apart. The rough beast of authentic American republicanism is once more shambling towards Bethlehem to be born--million-faced and roaring--and the artificial center they created cannot hold.

The Long Marchers stare at one another in disbelief. How can this be happening? We just got here. How can hope so quickly turn into despair? How can change so quickly become a mantra used against us?

For nearly their entire first year of unbroken failure, they blamed Bush. Under constant seige from a lapdog media, Bush's last two years were undeniably rough (and he made a few moves that even he has since admitted he'd like back) and 3 out of 4 Americans--even some admirers--were not unhappy to see him go. Things are tough out there, said the Long Marchers, but we're here to help. It'll take time to come back from the Bush disaster, but time is all we need. It didn't work out that way. Everything got worse.

Their next villain was Republican obstructionism. Never mind their overwhelming Congressional majorities--those pesky Republicans refused to allow them free rein and were blocking the path to the Promised Land. "They have no ideas," they sneered. "They're the Party of No."

Like FDR, Obama believes that Americans crave motion for its own sake, that doing anything beats doing nothing. Throw enough dung at the wall (or money at a problem) and something will stick. But that just isn't so, and America was not that stupid. "We're not the Party of No," the GOP claimed indignantly. "We're the Party of Hell No!" Most Americans applauded. It was one of the smartest things they ever said. And the smartest thing the Republicans ever did was to listen to and echo the howling of the torch-and-pitchfork peasants surging through the streets. If they are wise, they will continue to do so.

The Long Marchers turned back to blaming Bush. Worked once, oughta work again. But time had passed. Although Obama actually owned the economy from the February day on which he passed his first giant stimulus, now the American people were tired of waiting for the magic drug to kick in and let Obama know he owned it, for better or worse. For a stretch of months in 2009, it looked like the economy might be getting ever so slightly and slowly better. But then it got still worse.

The Long Marchers were sure it couldn't be the steak, so it had to be the sizzle. Re-messaging had to be the key. So, they sent out glad-handing party animal Joe Biden for a cross-country celebration of Recovery Summer. That was a non-starter. America's ready to party, yes, but not the kind of party Shoeless Joe had in mind.

Then they tried to buy the mid-terms with the race card. It was declined.

Nearly two years after taking office and turning the country upside down, they tried to blame Bush one more time and run a nationalized campaign against him, but this time even Jon Stewart wasn't having any and joined the mockery. Two months before the election that will either solidify or effectively end the Obama administration's ability to govern, the once-droopy George W. Bush is suddenly standing taller than he has since Katrina. In front-line must-win Democratic districts across the nation, Bush (who isn't running for anything) now leads Obama in approval polls by a significant margin. And the "Miss Me Yet?" t-shirt bearing his goofily grinning face is the largest seller in the country. The Long Marchers are shocked to discover that if they run against Bush, they will lose. Again.

But, of course, this is not about the misunderestimated Bush, whose vengeance will come in history books, nor even about Republicans. It is about nothing but America and the reintegration of its present and future with its glorious past. It is about reclaiming the mantle of honor and our rightful place in the world. It is not even about politics, which is a means, but hardly an end. It is about shrinking the state to its proper size, yes, and restoring the balance between liberty and license, but above all it is about one thing: redemption--and in all of human history, there is no greater theme. In the face of a tide of redemption, the Long Marchers know they will be washed away.

But they have one last trick. Their last-ditch strategy is to paint selected Republican candidates across the country as "too extremist," hoping to tar all Republicans with the same brush. As though Gov. Chris Christie of New Jersey is radical and hates "the children" when he tells the teachers' unions that the rules of life and economics apply to them too. As though Sharron Angle, Harry Reid's opponent in Nevada, is wild-eyed to suggest that the Department of Education might not be a good idea. Really? Ronald Reagan didn't think it was a good idea either, and he did OK. After all, Jimmy Carter, who never had a good idea, created it in 1978. It's hardly a venerable institution, and its elimination might be an idea whose time has come. America might just have grown the appetite at last to revisit much supposedly settled business that has derailed us from being the nation our founders intended us to be.

So, the savvy Republican move now would be more political ju-jitsu: embrace the label, just as they embraced Party of No. "Yup, we're extreme. Kinda like Adams and Jefferson were extreme." Yes, but what about those Tea Partiers? "Yup, they're extreme too. Kinda like Patrick Henry, who demanded liberty or death, or Martin Luther King, Jr., who said "I may not get there with you, but I have seen the Promised Land." Perhaps a little compare-and-contrast is in order: who's more extreme, our guy George Washington or their guy Chairman Mao?" And maybe it's time to revive the ghost of Barry Goldwater, who said: "Let me remind you that extremism in defense of liberty is no vice; and let me remind you also that moderation in pursuit of justice is no virtue."

The Long Marchers must face it: there is nowhere to go but back to the desert wilderness, there to learn that you can't promise water and deliver vinegar to a thirsty nation. Nor can you hold the water of life in your hands. Drink it quickly, or watch it all slip through to be absorbed by sand. When it's hot, blame it on the sun. When you repeatedly fail, sooner or later you must blame yourself.

So now the Long Marchers have broken a reeking flop sweat, because Daddy's almost home. They know they've been bad and have a beating coming. What they don't know is how much it will hurt. The answer: worse than they can imagine--but they have no one to point at but each other. If America is a putting green, they misread this country like a golfer after dark. They stroked it far left; it broke wide right. They've been misreading us for a century--and getting away with it--but this time they went too far. The Americans are coming--not to liberate another land, but to liberate themselves. The Long Marchers done got cocky. They done crossed the bridge too far. They done us wrong. And they can't uhuh-uhuh-uhuh-uh-undo it.