Hyperventilating never has a day off at the New York Times.
I’d been wondering how long it would take Republicans to realize that Paul Ryan is their guy.
He’s the cutest package that cruelty ever came in. He has a winning air of sad cheerfulness. He’s affable, clean cut and really cut, with the Irish altar-boy widow’s peak and droopy, winsome blue eyes and unashamed sentimentality.
Who better to rain misery upon the heads of millions of Americans?
Ms. Dowd then continues with one of her signature “woke up on the wrong side of the whiskey bottle” convolutions of point-making, wherein she manages to say a lot without ever saying anything at all.
To establish some “scare the independents” cred, she begins with attempts to yoke Ryan to both Ronald Reagan and Rush Limbaugh, even trotting out the old “ketchup as a vegetable” nonsense that liberals seem to think was more important than winning the Cold War.
Apparently, Paul Ryan’s hair is an integral part of this campaign of cruelty that he seeks to inflict upon America as both his widow’s peak and cowlick get mentions from that always calm and collected Ms. Dowd. She also makes sure to let us know that he’s white because, you know, racism.
To the left, Paul Ryan’s greatest sin is that he refuses to hop the trolley to the Land of Make Believe when it comes to dealing with debt, spending and the pesky mathematically realities associated with the futures Medicare, Social Security and almost every other buck timid politicians on both sides have been passing along for decades. Ryan’s fierce devotion to economic reality makes him, in Dowd’s opinion, a monster who wants to hurt you, albeit one she obviously has a little crush on:
Ryan should stop being so lovable. People who intend to hurt other people should wipe the smile off their faces.
The real pain being felt by liberals, of course, is the fact that Paul Ryan is telling them for the first time that there is no Santa Claus.
And the credit card bills for the presents are past due.