Anger over collateral damage, bitter sectarian violence, mass defection, battle fatigue, a toppling statue. It must suck to be a Conservative these days.

Spent a bit of time being a good listener for a few Republican neighbors this afternoon. It reminded me of something scribbled here back around Halloween, '03:

[10-27-03] Flip Kubler-Ross on her head and you can diagram what happens when parties (yes, of course both) abuse their faithful:

Acceptance: Maybe nukes, and definitely rose petals? Okay, I trust 'em. Not sure, but they're MY guys. I 'll go for that.

Depression: Ahh geez, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But, ohh, maybe I'm wrong not to trust. Better wait. And see. Ahh geez. . .

Bargaining: Hey look, it's not great but it's the best anyone can do. Roses take time to grow, okay? You try and do better, brainiac.

Denial: We never promised you a rose garden. Roses were your idea. This has nothing to do with plants, you ingrate.

Anger: Those assholes, how could they do this to me? I feel like an idiot. You know, I never really trusted those guys, all that flower talk and what not.

Intelligence of voters has little to do with it, I think. It's purely a group identity thing. If you're not very careful, you mirror the irrationality you paint your opponents with. And if you're holding the stopwatch, it's hard to call yourself on a blown play because, well, because you're "better". I figure we're 1/4 to 1/3 through denial now entering Anger, but what a cost to get here. Tragic.

It sucks to be you (me, anybody) when you're wrong. It's no party even when you're mildly uncertain. But that's nothing compared to the dripping, white knuckled fear that comes from wondering if others can see you sweating. And from that further, self-imposed fear that you'll be revealed a simpleton or a blind zealot. I really believe this, because I see it 9 to 5 almost daily, usually in cases that are nano-scale trivial compared with the stakes McCain's we're all now talking about. I grew up under a parental neutron bomb that used to stop us kids dead in our tracks when we'd evade, dissemble or just plain lie to avoid a preponderance of some fact: Once an accident, twice a coincidence, three times a pattern. I'm old enough that seeing otherwise sensible individuals suspend their healthy skepticism once they've tipped toward an individual or group or idea doesn't surprise me anymore. It's simple self- and self-image preservation. But the risk and the odds that they're willing to stay pat on, now that never ceases to amaze.

It sucks to be a Democrat under these circumstances, too. Because we're all losing the collective rosy bloom of what it once meant to be first, foremost, "an American."