What she said

Shakespeare's Sister said this six months ago. I missed it then. It is still worth reading now.

At each turn, we were met with accusations that our blind hatred of Bush drove our criticisms, but what the accusers failed to realize—and fail to realize still—is that our hatred was never blind.

You’re goddamned right if you think I found George Bush an insignificant slip of a man who was unprepared for and undeserving of the presidency, whose history as a drunken dullard, constructed aw-shucks shtick, and careful positioning as the ordained man who would marry religious extremists with neocon corporatists made me want to puke from the moment I laid eyes upon his sneering visage. You’re categorically correct if you think that his leadership shames me, that every heh heh which has emanated from his condescending mouth has made my skin crawl, that I am utterly unable to find the merest shadow of anything to like about him, that I fervently long for the day he takes his leave from governance and retreats to Crawford for good, where I won’t give the tiniest, microscopic shit about him whether he is lost in a tragic brush-clearing accident and his body devoured by wild dogs before the search party arrives, or whether he lives out the remainder of his useless life in good health and happiness—either way, I don’t care, as long as I never have to think about him for the rest of my days. You’re right as rain if you think I hated him from the get-go, but maybe it’s time to consider that my hatred left my eyes wide open, and it was his most ardent supporters who were blind.

Blindly allegiant. Blind defenders. Deliberately, selectively blind.

The MSM is nowhere near ready to accept this kind of thinking, because it implicates them as co-conspirators. But Shakey's anger, like mine, is not blind. Blindness is what we are so damned angry about.