First, they win. Then we attack them. Then we laugh at them. Then we ignore them…
My sweet suffering Christ, they’re playing the role of the unjustly oppressed right to the bitter hilt. That right there above, ladies and gentlemen, is an attempt by the supporters of preemptive war, the apologists for torture, the real men who go to Caracas, to reclaim the word “chickenhawk.” Maybe white boy can’t say “nigga,” but that is finally once and for all okay: he can now bellow “My Yellaphant!” with pride.
(Cap’n Ed even went the “Webster’s defines ‘chickenhawk’ as” route:
When we looked into it, it turns out that the chicken hawk is a pretty impressive predator. It’s the largest of its family. This species vigorously defends its territory, getting even more aggressive when the conditions get harshest. It adapts to all climates. Most impressively, it feeds on chickens, mice, and rats.
Make of that what you will.
(Well. I can make a hat, or a brooch, or a pterodactyl, or a mighty fascist-looking eagle displayed on a field of gules, you eliminationist twerp.)
I suppose we shouldn’t expect much, given the fact their preznit was a cheerleader.
An impressive predator that ”[m]ost impressively, feeds on chickens, rats, and mice?”
Further evidence that we have left irony behind would be superfluous.
Son—I say, son—that’s a mighty fine lookin’ logo for a chickenhawk!
Say, clunk enough people and we’ll have a nation of lumpheads.
We keep pitchin’ ‘em, and they keep missin’ ‘em.
This reminds me, bizarrely enough, of the effort (still ongoing in some circles) by some radical gays to reclaim the word ‘queer’.
Regardless of what Cap’n Ed would dearly love to think, very few people today, on hearing the word ‘chickenhawk’, immediately think ‘impressive predator’