Why Are Leftists Such Pansies?
Many times we accuse our political opponents of crimes of which we ourselves are equally guilty. Neither the left nor the right has a monopoly on dishonesty, hypocrisy, or hyperbole. But there is at least one unpleasant trait that seems to reside almost exclusively in the hearts of leftists: a puling hysterical weakness in the face of setbacks and defeat.
I think President Barack Obama is the worst president of my lifetime: an incompetent ideologue who made the world and the country worse. The economy is not as bad as it was directly after the crash, but it is much, much worse than it would have been had it not been weighted down with Dodd-Frank regulation and the anvil of Obamacare. Racial tension is worse, the national spirit is worse, the wars in the Middle East are worse, our nation's place in the world is worse, our federal institutions are more politicized and corrupt — all because Obama simply did not know how reality worked and would not change his mind.
I knew all this was true or would be true by 2012, and when Obama was reelected over Mitt Romney, a much wiser, more adult, and steadier hand, I was dismayed. I was saddened. I was even distraught.
But I did not become a sniveling, whiny, self-obsessed pansy. I did not, that is to say, behave like leftists are behaving now.
I did not cry. I did not protest. I did not demand a recount. I did not urge electors to betray the voters. I did not say Obama was not my president. I respected the will of the people, even though I found it hard to respect the people whose will it was.
But the left? Never mind the college snowflakes who can't even hear an idea they disagree with without retreating to a safe space. What about the adults? The New York Times, a former newspaper, now reads like a 12-year-old girls' sleepover after a mouse got in. It's embarrassing. "How to Cope With Trump?" "Trump's Threat to the Constitution?" "Trump's Agents of Idiocracy!"
The guy hasn't even done anything yet!
In the Washington Post, Stephanie Land writes a piece headlined, "Trump's Election Stole My Desire to Look for a Partner."
Once it was clear that Donald Trump would be president instead of Hillary Clinton, I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to gather my children in bed with me and cling to them like we would if thunder and lightning were raging outside, with winds high enough that they power might go out. The world felt that precarious to me.
Crikey. What a weakling. What a wimp.
Everything Trump does, every move he makes, is greeted with cries of despair or panic. He's supposed to ask China's permission before he takes a call from Taiwan? For crying out loud, have some respect for your country if you can't have some respect for yourself.