Thanking God for Martha Coakley by Bernie Chumm

South Boston, Sunday

Here’s looking up Martha Coakley‘s pant leg….and thank God for the opportunity.

No really. That’s the sense I’m getting. Of course, I haven’t been to a tony Cambridge saloon, mind you, to capture their scent of Her Ladyship, but here I’m getting the sense that Martha Coakley is quickly becoming the new image of the Democratic Party in Massachusetts, accomplishing something that even Hillary Clinton couldn’t do with her size 10 pumps…namely digging her high heel into the neck of local citizens while giving them that unique view up her pant leg. It’s a thing people never forget.

They are beginning to get it. They really are. She personifies everything they hate in the state class.

And it is about class.

I don’t want to steal Vassar’s thunder about a much larger theme than the Tuesday election in Massachusetts, but then again, maybe nothing’s bigger than this Tuesday’s election, VB. I think the sudden appearance of Coakley as a star who can almost single-handedly dismantle everything the Dems and the Left have tried to construct these past several years is something that should be revealed now, and begun to be exploited right away…that is, if anyone in the GOP is listening. (Vassar says that on matters of class, the GOP and the Dems may see eye-to-eye too much, and that may present a problem. Still, I’m just saying.)

You see, we (VB and I) have been looking to isolate the Leftist “demon seed” for some time. We both agree it’s about “class”…1) the self-appointed “class” of intellectualism (about which VB is working on) and 2) the growing over-bearing presence of the state “class”, which is beginning to wear very thin here of late.

They are connected. You have to understand that in Europe, from the early 1800’s, the time of Marx, the middle class was the state class, and that almost all “intellectuals” of that period came from that class, the children of civil servants and academicians. There were no by-the-bootstraps private sector middle class who got rich or working middle class who could send their kids off to university on just gumption and merit. There were only the petty bourgeoisie, little more than street vendors, bakers and candle stick makers. The class system of Europe, and statism in general, is almost as rigid as the Hindu caste system, with very few doors through which ordinary people can pass, and none without the approval of a gate-keeper.

Therefore, Marxism and all the intellectual hatred of the day was directed at “big business” (capitalists) and more discreetly, Jews in banking and other professions that required pretty nice financial start-ups, assuming all the gates were locked tightly. No one was watching the back door and paying attention to the rise of a genuine non-state-based, private sector middle class in the United States. We invented it. And for the longest time they’ve wanted to destroy it.

(I hope you’ll take my word for this, but we’ve spent a lot of time in the Third World, and among UN-sanctioned NGO’s, and the state class is the middle class in almost all the world, and they will tolerate no competition. When you hear the United Nations speak of democracy and freedom, they think of it in these terms.)

VB set out to prove a long time ago that Frank Capra was right, it’s always been about “class”. And I agree. But right now I can see that knowledge unfolding before my very eyes here in South Boston. They get it.

With all due respect to Bill Cosby, a very funny young man among my generation; he did a bit called “The Coin Toss” in the early 60s, which I found on Amazon.com and you can listen to for free: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B002YSR55O/ref=dm_mu_dp_trk2?ie=UTF8&qid=1263751422&sr=1-3.

Its premise was that there be a football referee with a coin toss before major battles. This one was about Custer’s last stand. “Capt Obama, this is Capt RedState. Capt RedState, Capt Obama. Call the toss, OB. OB calls heads…it’s tails. You win the toss, Red. Whatcha wanna do Red?

“OK, OB, Capt Red says you and your people got to go down and stand at the bottom of that hill…while all the working people in the world come riding down on top of you.”

No, I’m sober, but I can see this unfolding. I never liked Custer anyway. I can feel this bubbling up. It is really exciting, but in a dark, somber way. The music is Albinoni’s “Adagio”, not Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture”. It’s as if people, just sitting around the dinner table, suddenly become thunderstruck, then quietly get up and begin marching off, like those people in “Close Encounters” toward the Plains of Megiddo. I should be afraid, or at least alarmed. But I’m not. An eerie quiet has descended over these people. There are no loud harangues, no shaking of the fist, no four letter words…amongst Irish, no less. Quiet whispers and clenched teeth. Now we finally know who “we” are to them, so we know who “they” are to us.

How you play this in one short day, i can’t say. I’m just an observer, telling you what I see.

But win or lose, Martha Coakley is the new arrogant, condescending, jack-boot-in-stilletos statist-face of the Democrat Party. It should be easy to pin that tail on every donkey in the party, and a few in the GOP, from Barbara Boxer to Charlie Crist.

I’m just saying…