Tiller Murder: Rerun of a Bad Movie

When I first caught wind of George Tiller's murder it came to me, as news does so often these days, from the lips of a blogger. Robert Stacey McCain published a piece titled "Oh God, not this." Then it popped up at Hot Air, Michelle Malkin's joint, and the Weekly Standard. Shortly thereafter the news broke on all of the usual right-wing sources, and I couldn't help but notice a pattern beginning to emerge.

There was the requisite throat clearing and disavowal of assassination as a remedy to political or judicial malfeasance, but underlying that the reader would find a worried tone. The authors seemed to engage in a collective shuffling of feet and careful scrutiny of shoelaces while muttering: "Who? Us? Nope. Not one of us. Nothing to see here. Move along."

The mostly unspoken message came across as, "Oh God. Here we go again."  There was a girding of the loins going on as the Right prepared for an onslaught from the Left, ever vigilant against examples of right-wing extremist violence. And of course it came, but not only from the liberal bomb throwers at KOS. It was coming from all quarters. The real question for us, gentle readers, is why would you expect anything else? We've seen this movie before. It played on a seemingly infinite loop throughout much of the 1990s.

It's a familiar story. Sometimes it stars the members of isolated militias, holed up in the Appalachians and hopped up on a combination of home brewed moonshine and delinquent tax bills. In other performances we find gun-toting good ole boys heading for the borders to do the job that the lily-livered, sissy Democrats refuse to handle. And when it's not them it's the members of Operation Rescue and their ilk, out to provide a "pro-life" world for the rest of us, even if they have to do it through the pronghorn sights of a deer rifle.

Out here in the wilds of western New York, if you follow the news at all closely you know that we've had enough of Randall Terry and his crew to last a lifetime. I've stared into those wild, burning bush eyes in person and I'm here to tell you that the machine behind them has more than a few cogs spinning in the wrong direction. Of course the media had to dredge old Randall up as soon as the news broke, and he spun up to speed in predictable fashion. Terry could barely contain his glee while delivering the requisite, mealy-mouthed disavowal of the violence. Even then he couldn't resist calling Tiller a mass murderer, a baby killer, and the usual litany of explosive rhetoric which should serve nicely to incite the next Scott Roeder to homicidal violence.