"To announce that there must be no criticism of the president, or that we are to stand by the president, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public." Theodore Roosevelt
It is the way of the bully, you know, to choose the weakest, nose-pickingest, insignificant, wouldn't-hurt-a-fuckin-flea kid on the playground and pummel that little bastard into the dirt. And, as study after study has shown, bullies lash out against the schoolyard peons because it's the only way they can deal with truths they cannot face.
So, like, when some crazed white collar redneck plows through a field of flags and crosses bearing the names of soldiers who died in Iraq simply because said crosses were planted by Cindy Sheehan and her fellow Crawford protesters, we can pretty much assume that said crazed white collar redneck, also known as Waco realtor Larry Northern, may have been acting out of a sense of impotence, rage, and fear, the same combination that has driven crazed rednecks since Bocephus Yankeebeater pissed on the first pair of shoes ever to make its way up the Ozarks to Fuckedmysister, Arkansas.
It's not to excuse Northern (Operation Truth has already done the takedown) or stupid ass neighbor Larry Mattlage, apparently forgetting that bullets that go up do fuckin' come down, fired a warning shot near the demonstrators. But Mattlage and Northern are helpless, voiceless, deluded pukes who, like the kid whose father is beating his mother and him, have no other way but violence to express their anger and chimp-like confusion about Sheehan. ("She's a mother whose son died in the war. But wait. She opposes our President. But wait. She's a mother whose son died in the war. But wait. She's gettin' more people to protest the war. Aw, fuck it, let's just break shit.")
However, what are we to make of our depraved, desperate right wing punditry who are clinging, like plague fleas to the hair on the balls of the last rat in 1665 London, to any shred of an iota of evidence that Sheehan is wrong, which would discredit her vigil and, they hope, the entire cause of anti-war protesters. There's needs-to-be-sodomized-with-a-microphone Bill O'Reilly, who on his Fox "news" masturbatory yowl-fest, keeps repeating that Sheehan once said that Israel should get out of Palestine (as if that's somehow a far-left sentiment, despite having been expressed by many on the right who are not nutzoid end-of-days evangelicals or nutzoid neocons or David Horowitz) and that Sheehan posts messages on Michael Moore's website. And, of course, O'Reilly's making the story about himself, about whether or not he implied Sheehan was "treasonous." He did not, but he did say and imply that she was now a tool of "radicals" in America, denying her the voice he repeatedly insists she's allowed to have, treating her like the little woman who can't compete in the big, bad world of ideological rhetoric.
And what are we to make of Ann Coulter, whose cuntistry knows no bounds or limitations? In her latest "column" (if by "column," you mean "the sidewalk chalk scribbles of a delusional paranoiac just escaped from the chains holding her in her shit covered cell in the basement of the local charity hospital"), Coulter lashes out at Sheehan as if, say, Sheehan had sent the nation to war under false pretenses. Coulter, always the mainstream voice of the monkeyfuck insane right, says, "After your third profile on Entertainment Tonight, you're no longer a grieving mom; you're a C-list celebrity trolling for a book deal or a reality show." Coulter then tries to impugn Sheehan with out of context quotes. But the words don't matter. O'Reilly's connections don't matter.
All over the right, the attempts to destroy Sheehan are getting increasingly desperate and repellent, from dragging out her divorce documents and the liens against her property to saying that she "endangers" the troops (damn, you'd think lack of body armor would be doin' that, but then, fuck you - if you speak of it, our troops'll die). But that image, of the mother, outside, in that no-wonder-everyone's-goin'-insane heat of West Texas, is far more powerful. When you hear her voice, it ain't the crazy rantings of the so-called loony left. It's the calm, reasonable tone of the righteous. And that's what's so fuckin' threatening to the bullies.
Goddamn, it feels good to pound that weakling into the dirt until you hear the weakling's sobs and cries of mercy. But what happens if the weakling gets up, brushes off, and dares you to take another shot? That's the way the bullies crumble.