Rand Paul, son of libertarian darling Ron Paul, is one of the latest darlings of the Tea Party movement to arrive on the national scene. As one of the victors in the recent primary turnovers, four less moderate challengers to topple incumbents from within their own parties, he’s received a sudden burst of attention. And immediately used it to embarrass himself.
In an NPR interview, he claimed he would have sympathized with the civil rights movement but voted against civil rights legislation had he been in office in the ’60s. In a later interview with Rachel Maddow, he found himself unable to defend or even articulate that position, preferring to pretend he failed to understand the question three times in a row. That stonewalling made YouTube, and suddenly, zip! zip! zip! news outlets began complaining of canceled interviews. Paul’s handlers decided he was one of those politicians who do better without media attention.
Do you see a pattern here? Sue Lowden was a prominent Teabagger darling until she suggested we pay our medical bills with chickens. That made YouTube, and suddenly, zip! zip! zip! Lowden vanished from personal appearances, and the Teabaggers began switching their allegiance to an even more extreme outlier of Nevada conservatives. And, of course, Sarah Palin, queen of the Teabagger darlings, set the standard with her Katie Couric interview and zip! zip! zip! abrupt disappearance from the cameras, hidden away with almost as much secrecy as Cheney to be coached into a robotic delivery of safer platitudes.
The relationship between Teabagger appeal and unsuitability for public appearance (discounting appearances before carefully selected supporters) seems to be almost axiomatic. The same arrogance-in-ignorance that defines the movement almost guarantees saying something deeply damaging to the press if allowed. Karma can be a wonderful thing. If only we could work out how to get the rank and file to silence itself and hide from cameras with the same urgency as their favorite politicians.
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