Charles Murray, writing for the National Review (and pretty much the only one left there worth reading), wrote a piece titled “Why ‘Hillary Is Even Worse’ Doesn’t Cut It”. Contemporaneously, P.J. O’Rourke has publicly endorsed Hillary Clinton.
Of the two, Murray makes the far more compelling case against Trump — and yet I maintain full respect for Murray while O’Rourke is beneath my contempt. Murray makes it clear early on that his appeal is a wonkish one:
The standard response among the Establishmentarians who have announced they will vote for Trump is that “Hillary is even worse.” That’s acceptable for people whose only obligation is to cast a vote. Having to choose the lesser of two evils is common in American voting booths.
He’s not endorsing Hillary, he’s not even denying the premise of his title; he’s merely pointing out that “Hillary is even worse” is a very weak argument, intellectually. For all we know, he may himself be voting for Trump! (Unlikely, and not the least bit relevant.)
Not so with O’Rourke, who very explicitly endorses Clinton. Yes, the very same Hillary he called Piglet 18 years ago:
I have something to apologize for — not like that Bill Clinton in Africa repenting slavery. As if. The Clintons couldn’t afford shoes. When Bill wants to make amends he should say he’s sorry for 300 years of chicken thieving, blind-eye moonshine, and cars up on blocks in the front yards.
Don’t go getting above yourself, Bill. My family had property. We were people of substance in the antebellum days. We didn’t happen to own slaves because we were in Illinois, but that was an oversight. I’ll do the apologizing around here. And let me take this opportunity to apologize to Native Americans, again, for stealing their land. Excuse me. I promise to lose at blackjack in one of your new casinos.
Bill Clinton does have one thing going for him, and saying “pardon me for the way it’s behaving” should keep him busy for the rest of his life. But who cares? He’s a lame duck, he’s married to Piglet from Winnie the Pooh, and the only friend he’s got left is David Brock. Who wants an apology from someone like that?
That’s some masterful prose. Classic O’Rourke. “300 years of chicken thieving, blind-eye moonshine, and cars up on blocks in the front yards.” Brilliant. But there’s a reason we reserve special contempt for traitors. Something tells me his supply of Native American casino humor is running dry these days. Early warning signs were here:
There was no need to piss off the entire black population of America to get Dixie’s electoral votes. And despising cracker trash who have a laundry hamper full of bedsheets with eye-holes cut in them does not make a man a liberal.
Our attitude toward immigration has been repulsive. Are we not pro-life? Are not immigrants alive? Unfortunately, no, a lot of them aren’t after attempting to cross our borders. Conservative immigration policies are as stupid as conservative attitudes are gross. Fence the border and give a huge boost to the Mexican ladder industry. Put the National Guard on the Rio Grande and know that U.S. troops are standing between you and yard care.
This drivel made me lose all respect for PJ, but he hadn’t quite reached his current despicable pimping-out-his-daughter-for-a-crack-hit level of low. Having once read and appreciated his writing, I now feel like a man who’s begun eating a delicious ripe apple only to bite into a putrid, maggot-infested core. It’ll take a lot of of spitting and mouthwash to make the nasty go away. Enjoy your newly found righteousness, PJ. I wash my feet of you, the sneaky hard-to-spot-in-the-grass dog turd you’ve turned out to be.