Ed Driscoll

A Tale of Two Parodies

Now is the time at Ed Driscoll.com when we juxtapose!

What I do know is that nothing in the world can justify a man being thus thrown to a ravenous pack of  dogs, a breed of which has neither been obedience trained nor clipped in the proper poofs.

What I know is that nothing, no suspicion whatever (for let’s remind ourselves that, as I write these lines, we are dealing only with suspicions, comingled up with a few blue-lighted Speedos), permits the entire world to revel in the spectacle, this morning, of this handcuffed figure, this magnificent avatar of Continental sophistication, this giant of Gallic philosophic chivalry, his features blurred by 30 hours of detention and questioning, his face criminally unmoisturized. But there he stood, proud and unbroken, like his dignified and noble hyphen.

What I know as well is that nothing, no earthly law, should also allow another woman, his wife, admirable in her love and courage, to be exposed to the slime of a public opinion drunk on salacious gossip and driven by who knows what obscure mob prejudice against the Gallic woman’s proud spirit of laissez-affaire. I cannot even bear to consider how this indignity torments his many proud and loving and courageous mistresses.

And what I know even more is that the Strauss-Kahn I know, who has been my friend for 20 years and who will remain my friend, bears no resemblance to this monster, this caveman, this insatiable and malevolent beast now being described nearly everywhere. Charming, seductive, yes, certainly; always quick with a flirtatious wink, obviously; and ready with a ball gag and bondage ropes, naturally. But this brutal and violent individual, this wild animal, this primate? It is absurd. In any civilized country that recognizes the natural purity of philosophical genius, the case would be dismissed on the grounds of absurdity.

This morning, I hold it against the jejune American judge who, by delivering him to the crowd of photo hounds, dared treat this man of nobility as subject to the justice of the peasant.


Iowahawk’s parody “first draft of Bernard Henri-Levy’s Daily Beast cri de coeur on behalf of his ami Dominique Strauss-Kahn.”

The literati sent out their minions to do their bidding. Washington cannot tolerate threats from outsiders who might disrupt their comfortable world. The firefight started when the cowardly sensed weakness. They fired timidly at first, then the sheep not wanting to be dropped from the establishment’s cocktail party invite list unloaded their entire clip, firing without taking aim their distortions and falsehoods. Now they are left exposed by their bylines and handles. But surely they had killed him off. This is the way it always worked. A lesser person could not have survived the first few minutes of the onslaught. But out of the billowing smoke and dust of tweets and trivia emerged Gingrich, once again ready to lead those who won’t be intimated by the political elite and are ready to take on the challenges America faces.

— The self-parodying reply by Rick Tyler, Newt Gingrich’s press secretary, to Michael Calderone, writing in the Huffington Post.


(Concept via SDA.)

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