I’m sensing a wee bit of a projection epidemic going on these days. Richard Cohen talks about a "they" who supported the war as if he wasn’t one of them, Debbie "adios, motherfuckers" Howell wants to lecture liberal bloggers on civil discourse, and then there was the right wing effort to hand over their Malkin problem to the left (and Sadly, No! treats this hypocrisy with appropriate reverence here.)
Which brings us to Jeff Goldstein, who frequently leaves off eating paste to make up quotes and attribute them to me or accuse me of being drunk. Now, I don’t drink, smoke or take drugs, recreationally or otherwise (and none of the Rush Limbaugh white man "I get my drugs from the pharmacy…wait, they’re legal!!! What about my civil rights?!!! Call the ACLU!!!" bullshit either — unless you count the occasional Advil, multivitamin or the cup of coffee Kobe lets me have when I take him to Starbucks drive-through for his pumpkin loaf every morning). I’ve done my share in the past thank you very much, but I think the last beer I drank was over six years ago. No value judgment involved in either lifestyle, but that was then and this is now. I used to wake up in the morning thinking of ways to use my mom’s best towels as carpet for my Barbie house too but I don’t do that any more, either.
The point is simply that Goldstein can’t even get his facts straight, as usual. But considering his recent ode to Klonopin, I have to wonder — is this yet another case of right wing projection? Within a group of people who equate riding New York elevators or fighting islamofascism on X-Box with actually serving in Iraq, appropriate self-image is obviously in short supply. And I don’t mean to make light of the situation. If Goldstein’s use of the drug is appropriate, good for him, no judgment on that either. But given his frequent moods swings, his tendency to project substance abuse problems onto others and his proclivity for writing 15,000 word treatises in defense of poor comprehension, there do seem to be a few excessive tendencies in evidence. If it’s a genuine problem, I sincerely hope he gets help.
In any event, stepping away from the keyboard and closing the Latin root dictionary to engage in a little self-reflection might be in order.
I gave up playing with Barbies long ago. But I’m sure Lindsay Beyerstein will back me up on this: there never seems to be any shortage of little boys willing to dunk your pigtails in the ink well to get your attention.
(image courtesy Atrios, who has shown some profound insight into Goldstein in the past.)