The Fantasy Years

FOR EVEN THE IDEA that liberals undermined the fabric of the country was hatched in a think tank somewhere. The pillars of its argument laid out dispassionately in statistics and pointed studies. Its conclusion held up as “proof” by the radio hosts whose outrage and sound bites listeners could understand. And could repeat.
Between the think tanks and AM radio, not only did the tone of political discourse shift rightward in the country but the facts did too.

Taken together, the change was so gradual, so sure, so complete, it went almost unnoticed.

But it didn’t stop there, affecting only current events.

Oh, no. In order for the new view of things in America to make total sense, history had to be brought in line, too. So the events of the past were so arranged in a new kind of order that helped explain everything happening today. And a disbeliever in a dormitory in North Carolina said:

“I can’t believe you people are now trying to paint Nixon as “flawed.” He was criminal.”
“Nixon was a foreign policy genius,” said another voice.
“He was a paranoid freak.”
“He reopened ties with China.”
“He invaded Cambodia.”
“He established détente with the Soviet Union.”
“He invaded Laos.”
“So he was flawed.”
“He kept enemies lists and authorized crimes against them.”
“Everyone has their own opinion of him.”
“This stuff really happened.”
“How do you know?”
“Everyone knows. It’s history.”
“Were you there? Did you see it happen?”
“These things happened. It’s history. How can you—“
“A post-modern history, maybe. Taken from the liberal press.”
“No, really, it’s history.”
“It’s your opinion. And my opinion is that Nixon was a genius.”

Rush bellowed, and his listeners screeched back into their phones. Rush’s imitators hollered and their listeners growled. Because knowing things was fun. Being right was fun. In a truck, cruising the rolling fields and hills of Virginia:

“Why does the liberal press always protect their own?”
“They didn’t seem to be protecting Clinton much these days,” said another voice.
“Oh, they only reveal a tenth of his crimes.”
“Really?”
“The media always goes easy on the Democrats.”
“Like they did on Carter?”
“Carter had it coming.”
“Like they did on LBJ?”
“That was Vietnam. And everyone knows liberals don’t have the stomach for war.”
“That’s why FDR was reelected twice during WWII?”
“He’s not like a liberal today.”
“He created the New Deal.”
“So you say.”
“No, really. Other people say too.”
“Sure, the liberal professors cover for him. All I know is that the liberals had no stomach for Vietnam and that’s why we lost.”

“Do you even know what happened in the Vietnam War?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me—Know-it-all liberals can’t resist showing off—OK. Tell me your version of what happened in Vietnam.”
“It’s not my version. It really happened.”
“As if I’m going to trust a liberal to tell me what happened in Vietnam.”
“But—“
“As if a liberal would have any incentive to tell the truth.”
“—But—“
“—As if that’s even possible. As if someone can speak honestly about something they never supported.”
“—But”
“—As if people even work that way.”

Rush stood up on the turnbuckle. His rhetorical victim writhed slowly on the mat. Then Rush went flying elbow first into the jaw of liberalism! Of Clintonianism! Of feminism! And the crowd roared in ecstatic approval because winning arguments was fun. Winning was a joy.

“I don’t see why blacks vote Democrat. The Democrats keep them down,” protested a voice in Miami.

“The Democrats supported the Civil Rights Act in the 1960s,” said another.
“That’s what people say.”
“No, really. The Democrats pushed the legislation though.”
“Everyone has their own opinion.”
“It’s not an opinion. It’s a fact. LBJ signed the bill.”
“Some kind of PC fact.”
“It’s true—“
“Says the liberal media.”
“—No, really—.”
“—Told to me by a liberal. Well, let me tell you something: you liberals don’t own the media anymore and I have my own sources.”

THERE WAS NO EQUAL TIME for the opposing view to Rush’s rantings. Millions of Americans heard only the braying voices of one side. Rush was syndicated across hundreds of stations. His imitators filled up the time slots surround his, imitating his tone, if not his ideas. America was pissed off and the listeners wanted to hear it said so. Rush could say anything he wanted. He and his imitators were free to critique, to attack, to exhort, to demand, to bully, to belittle whoever they pleased and no one could stop them. No one could stand up to them. So in rural Indiana:

“Troopergate is the same as Watergate.”
“It’s the same as Nixon’s use of secret operatives.”
“Clinton’s abuses are the same as Nixon’s mismanagement of the White House.”
“Nixon’s flawed personality is the same as Clinton’s flawed personality,” a voice in Ohio said.
“Nixon’s paranoia was like Clinton’s overactive sex life.”
“Except Nixon was a super patriot who stepped over the line.”
“And Nixon served proudly in the military,” said a voice in Texas.
“But Clinton avoided the military.”
“Like the rest of those maggot-infested hippies from the Nineteen Sixties.”
“Yeah, Clinton is as flawed as Nixon,” declared a voice in Oklahoma.
“But Nixon is guilty only of being overzealous.”

But surely this wasn’t America. Surely no one could get on the radio day after day, hammering away steadily at the same targets – liberals, the Clintons, the Kennedys, political correctness, welfare, social security — without the targets getting to talk back. Where was the balance? The rebuttle? The ability for the accused to defend themselves? Surely, a provision was written somewhere that demanded equal time for this inflammatory speech. A guideline. A principle. There was: the Fairness Doctrine. But the FCC Chairman stopped enforcing that rule a decade ago: it inhibited the freedom of one-sided debate.

And so the barrage of bombast just kept spilling forth, it kept cascading down in thunderous torrents. And in South Carolina.
“National healthcare is the same as communism,” said a voice.
“And communism is the same as atheism,” replied another.
“And atheism is the same as godlessness.”
“And Americans are a God-fearing people. So we have no place for communism here.”
“Not even in its first stages like nationalized socialized medicine.”
“Nazism is short for national socialism. People don’t know that.”
“I bet the Nazis had no trouble seeing a doctor.”
“And you can see what happened to that society.”
“Hitler promised the German people the world.”
“But he delivered only destruction.”
“And that’s what you get when a politician promises you an easy life.”
“Like Bill and Hillary. Offering to make the government bigger to supposedly make life easier.”
“But we say no thanks to their snake oil.”
“Life may be a little harder.”
“But we say no.”
“We don’t expect handouts.”
“We understand that we might have to get our health insurance through our work, and the paperwork might be a little hassle, but it’s better if it keeps us free.”

Brandon worked regular hours at the Blockbuster now that he left Denny’s. The hours got him home at a decent time. In his own way, he was on a path. Already he felt slightly embarrassed for being a 24 year- old at the community college, instead of being just out of high school like most of the young people there. Of course, Dallas County Community College had all kinds of students – even ones much older than him. Some of them were even old people, with gray hair and everything.

He’d bumped up to twelve credits a semester since he met Carolyn. Just to get it done. And now in the evenings, when he got his homework done, he paged through applications for four year college. Real college.

Only after everything was done, all the work, all the class work, the homework and the applications to school—only after that—would he call Shane and have a couple beers to watch the Cowboys. “My Cowboys,” as Brandon called them. And sure enough, Shane would arrive, trusty twelve pack of Bud Light in hand.

“You sure it’s okay for you to drink beer?” he asked, settling into a chair.
“Yeah. What do you mean?” Brandon said.
“You sure Carolyn doesn’t mind?”
“Dude.”
“I’m just kidding.”
“I know you are.” Brandon said, working the TV sound against the CD player blasting Pantera. Carolyn was out at her sister’s tonight.
“I still like to party but I’ve got a lot going on.”
“I guess you do,” Shane said, shaking his head.
“Oh, shut up and drink.”
“I mean, it’s cool that you have a girlfriend and all. But you’ve really let her go to your head.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, dude, you don’t have to totally give up on your friends.”
“Who says I’m giving up on my friends?”
“No one. It’s just that we were there for you when you didn’t have a chick. And now you’re all about getting ahead and school and all that.”

“But you’ve gotta understand this is the real me. I was always the guy who was going to go to school. All that staying out all night. That…You can do that a while. But then you grow up.”
“Dude,” Shane said, waving a lazy hand at Brandon’s explanations. “Just say it and cut all this bullshit about the ‘real you’: you’re glad you finally got a girlfriend.”

The TV was on in the bar in Michigan after the Lions beat the Cowboys. The two customers had enjoyed so much making cracks at the players, and had drank so much beer and so many shots between them, they couldn’t stop themselves when the game finally ended.
“Hillary thought she was going to ram big government down our throats,” said the customer with the mustache.
“Her health plan was going to be like a big tongue depressor. And she was telling us to say ahhh,” said the other, wearing his gun club gimme cap.
“Like a big horse pill of communism to swallow. Cause that shit was communistic, the government telling us which doctors we can go to.”
“Like she was saying to the American people ‘Bend over. This won’t hurt.’”
“Turns out she and Bill had their own bitter pill to swallow.”
“Their own party voted against her. Did you see that?”
“Because Hillary doesn’t understand socialized healthcare is like anything else socialist.”
“This county doesn’t work on socialism.”
“It works on freedom.”
“Socialized healthcare is like Cuba’s communist healthcare.”
“It’s like dressing us all in the same clothes.”
“It’s like making us drive the same kind of cars.”
“It’s like making us all eat the same kind of food.”
“And the American people don’t want that.”