Metaphors
Left-wingers complaining about right-wing underhandedness and hyprocrisy (such as this Jeff Gannon: Male Prostitute and White House Correspondent business) are like the Baudelaire orphans in their Series of Unfortunate Events.
“Please listen, Mr. Public,” they plead. “Count Rightwinglaf is evil! He’ll stop at nothing to steal our inheritance!”
“Run along now, children,” says Mr. Public. “I must watch the Bachelorette now.”
Right-wing foaming mouthpieces, like Ann Coulter, are like a person who goes into a fancy restaurant and then pulls a dead weasel from her purse and lays it on her plate.
“Waiter!” she says. “There’s a dead weasel on my plate! I demand a free meal and a share of the restaurant’s profits!”
“Madam,” says the waiter. “I saw you pull that weasel from your purse.”
“OH!” yells Ann Weaselsneaker, loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear. “I see! You just hate me because I’m a Cherokee Indian!! Now I see what your restaurant is up to – discriminating against Cherokee Indians and forcing babies to engage in beastiality!”
Then the restaurant manager has to give this person money so that the rest of the patrons won’t hate the restaurant. Then this person does the same thing to all the other fancy restaurants in town, and they all know she’s coming, but there’s nothing they can do to stop her. It’s not like they can just gang up on her in a parking lot and beat the crap out of her, is it?
“That woman is a horrible liar,” a restaurant owner remarks to Mr. Public.
“Quit it with the sour grapes,” Mr. Public says. “You just hate her because she’s rich.”
