Just read that. No surprise there either. But when does The New Yorker ever surprise any more? Just woke doctrine.— Andrew Sullivan (@sullydish) December 28, 2020
Will no one listen to the pain of the fragile privileged Conservative gay Catholic Tory white guy who wants to write about phrenology and campus speech codes? Will no one heed his warning that critical race theory is one million times worse than, y'know, actual racism. Will no one rescue the bitter crank whose rustic opinions on cancel culture have been cruelly confined to SubStack. And Twitter. And frequent appearances on the Bill Maher show. And guest-writing gigs at places like The New York Times Review of Books where he is 100% free to wedge his "woke doctrine" twaddle into whatever he is actually hired to write about.
There is no mention of the radicalizing woke left — which has played a key part in radicalizing the right in recent years and for good reason.
On December 1, 1170, Becket, having spent some six years in exile, returns to a Palm-Sunday style entry: people line the roads, throwing their cloaks before him and hailing him. But Becket's enemies among clerics and court officials are numerous—and for good reason. He adamantly refuses to back down on his demand for independent power for the church. And more than that, he excommunicates all those who sided with the king. Henry is enraged. From his sickbed he moans a message, which his closest aides understood as, Who will rid me of that troublesome priest?
Before dawn on his fatal last day, Becket arises, officiates at the Mass, and confesses his sins. There is a sense of foreboding as he warns those close to him to flee. In the late, cold afternoon of December 29, 1170, four knights enter the cathedral during the vesper service and attack Becket as he is proceeding to the high altar. It is a grisly scene. According to an eyewitness, "The crown of his head was separated from the head in such a way that the blood, white with brain, and the brain no less red from the blood, dyed the floor of the cathedral."
Mr. Sullivan's Conservatism is identical to Mr. [David] Brooks' Moderation in that their respective ideological systems amount to little more than what is convenient and enjoyable for each man to believe at any given moment.
If Mr. Sullivan suddenly developed a taste for pineapple ice cream, within a week he would be penning columns about how "Liking Pineapple Ice Cream" is a cardinal Conservative value because of something something Edmund Burke. If he got sick on bad Thai food, we would suddenly see a spate of columns discussing bad Thai food and how it is something that only extreme Christianists or Left Liberal would ever put in their mouths.
He is, at best, a flighty dilettante with a wealth patron and does not have the slightest fucking clue about how his adopted country works...
The dull truth is, Conservatism cannot function without vile Liberal conspiracies to bitch about.
And where no actual vile Liberal conspiracies exist, Conservatives up and down the spectrum from Tucker Carlson to Andrew Sullivan will always be on hand to conjure some out of thin air.