Springtime for NSDAP analogies

Arpège, or if not, our merry page, would be remiss in its tour d'horison of America's flair for sentimental analogies to the German Chancellor from the NSDAP, if some sort of flasher prize were not awarded to the distaff Clinton, for likening this week that genius for the intimidating démarche, to the dullard little policeman whose eyes seduced George W. Bush. 

Fresh from her ambition's rus-tication in the drawing rooms of Foggy Bottom, it was promising to find her famously Wellesley-honed powers of reasoning yielding to the more common touch of dema-goguery, upon which no career can founder, anywhere known to man. We liked this very much.

To the senior Bush's dismissal of the Chancellor's oft-remarked gift for cruelty, compared with the dictator we'd propped up through more than one war, her analogy brought our Southern gift for grotesque insult, to compare the murderer of some 20 million Soviet citizens to the petty gangster presiding over their heirs. 

So much for diplomacy's capacity to restrain a beggar of office, in this shining little city in the swamp.

No doubt, we shall endure fur-ther occasion to admire this politician's style. For the present crisis, it strikes a classic benchmark. Who can wait to see, who supersizes it?

Meanwhile, no American school-child, worth his overdose of soda, would wish to impugn the wondrous protestations of fellowship protection, precipitating Mr Polk's aggressive by-play with Mexico, McKinley's with the withered empire of Spain, not to mention the redoubtably dubitable Reagan's storming of Grande Anse Beach, with so much as a whiff of comparison with a tried and true Russian tease, of a people it had starved nearly out of existence more than once. Oh, no. Spring is in the air, and Mr Goebbels must eat his heart out.

George Orwell
Politics and the
  English Language
1946
op. cit.