It really is something, isn’t it? The Left loves purity. Absolute, unyielding purity. No deviation is ever allowed. Think you’re safe over there in their camp? Think again. Their ever-shifting standards change more often than the weather. Yesterday’s celebrated hero is today’s denounced villain. It’s a truly dizzying spectacle to behold. The woke Olympics, really.
And what happens when that frantic hunt eventually turns inward? It always does, sooner or later. History teaches us that revolutions invariably eat their own children. The woke revolution is proving to be no different. The sacred circle of the “elect” continually shrinks. Smaller. And smaller still. Soon, only a precious handful remain within its bounds. But even they are not truly safe. The insatiable mob demands constant sacrifice. It demands fresh meat for its ideological grinder. So, inevitably, they turn on each other.
Enter Chris Cillizza. Remember him? Once a familiar face on CNN. A reliable voice echoing the Left’s narratives. For years, he dutifully toed the party line. He understood the media game. Or so he thought. Now, that very game has turned its fangs on him. He discovered this truth rather unpleasantly. Not in a newsroom. Not in a debate. But at his own son’s soccer tournament. What an ordinary place for such an extraordinary political lesson.