What a terrific, hammer-into-anvil writer James Wolcott is? That he marches out into the same word-beanfields to which we all have access and somehow always manages to come back with harvests which are not merely lush and muscular but which you can instantly recognize as uniquely "Wolcottian" from a across a fog-bound bay?
Well, then, this from "Andrew Breitbart’s Circus Maximus":
Read the rest here....“Andrew Breitbart was the coolest thing at the first day of cpac, even though he’s dead,” reported Elspeth Reeve for the Atlantic Wire. “On Thursday, there were three events to celebrate Breitbart, the conservative provocateur who died a year ago, and they were filled with fanboys.” The National Bloggers Club touted the Breitbart Scholarship Fund, intended to encourage aspiring insurgents to pick up the torch of liberty and run naked through the lobby with it. To me, a disinterested yet completely hostile bystander, such gestures are consolation prizes that conservatives are giving themselves to sustain an illusion of continuity, a show-must-go-on sentiment. But personality cults are hard to perpetuate after Elvis has left the building. You can imitate tactics, emulate tone and posture, but you can’t inhale animal spirits from your fallen heroes and make them your own. Now that Breitbart’s metabolism is no longer exerting the magnetic force to bind everything together, the rinky-dinkitude of his school of right-wing muckraking is laid bare.Examples...