The Establishment Epileptic Seizure

Recently Kevin McCarthy, the presumptive favorite for the Speaker of the House, withdrew his name. There are at least two reasons why. However, that moment of joy is not the big story. There will be more statues to topple and precedents to break as the conservative tide rolls on. What I find interesting is the upper-crust dudgeon, the collective freak out, the epileptic seizure that has stricken commentators, newsmen, pundits, and bloggers alike. They have lost their marbles when they see the people’s representatives actually acting like representatives. This is new! This is strange! This is different! The GOP is finished! This is high-school drama! This is…fill in the blank.

What I cannot fathom is why anyone is surprised that a representative republic is a messy business. Why would anyone expect things to be smooth and proceed with no arguments? Why are people failing to reach consensus the first time the sign of the death of the party? Why are these people addicted to overblown hysterics and have no sense of history or understanding of their own government?

What lies under all this is a not-too-concealed desire for tyranny. In a tyranny, disagreements do not occur, for the people have no voice and cannot object. In a tyranny, there is no fighting, only the perfect teacher presiding over a perfectly-behaved classroom, where the students know if they even glance wrongly they will be tortured or murdered. In a tyranny, nothing is ever unexpected, because if you think it is unexpected, that is because you are thinking in unapproved ways, comrade.

All of these people need to ask themselves, why this surprises them, and why this is a bad thing, and why they are personally disturbed by it. Of course, they will not dare be so honest. Instead, they will keep wailing about how undignified, how juvenile, how backward, etc, such exercises of representation are. What they secretly desire is an elementary school world where no-one ever disagrees and government keeps growing forever and ever, Amen.

Let them keep clucking like retarded roosters or yowling like feral cats in heat. I laugh at their alarm, and celebrate the messiness of representation. Men are not angels, and for this, we have limited government. All hail its process!

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