Arm music v: And plan b?

A raucous gaiety of discord gave such prohibitively handsome form to the opening night of the Democratic Convention, that one could almost have missed the subtlety with which a concerted remedial instruction in morals alternated with a tactical psychotherapy, held as well in check as could be expected, given the motives of Party. A sound appreciation of generations of impacted bigotry, reinforced by adamant permission from exploitive masters - never to yield to humane reflection or compromise with fact - at last protected Democrats from repeating their mistake in confronting the demented gangsters, Nixon and Agnew, of criticizing adherents, cultivated as sociopaths, to support degenerate policy. 

The President's wife surpassed every precedent of persuasion in remarking on the provenance of her House, and the unintended tenancy that redeems it. But, equally to be expected, Elizabeth Warren came perilously close to tipping the corrective hand, reflecting on the margins of Jim Crow in McConnell’s, Boehner’s, Cantor’s and Ryan’s descent into stark, raving negation. But I stray. Why ignore Scalia, Alito, Thomas, and the whole manipulative superstructure of tax-exempt casuistry devoted to one end: the emergence, if need be, of a candid fascist?

But what is Plan B, if gentle fraternal joshing should fail to deflect insensate wound-up legions from their droning march of denial? What witty theft of the right to vote will democrats indulge, to spite their principles against those resourceful tinkerers in the States, against their young, their naturalized, their non-white, and their poor? What mechanic lies in wait to shave no more than 1 to 2 percent of punch card chads, some innocently incongruous way? What is the “patriot act” prepared for the timely precipitation of slander from broadcast conduits, the handbills shoved by pastors up the windscreens of the flock? What is the slingshot saved for decency, what is its stone?