January 11, 2010
The Marsupial Class
Every species is born into a world of uncertainty and fear, whether that creature is hatched from an egg, birthed whole and gasping via canal, released from the bondage of the chrysalis, or sprouted amphibiously, like the lowly polliwog. Each creature finds itself thrust into a terribly unforgiving world, where survival depends upon nurturing, luck, and innate ability.
Some animals, like the shark, venture forth whole, prey to few, immediately endowed with survival instinct and hunger. Others need nurturing: the featherless bird in the nest, the tiny rabbit, the helpless human infant. All, however, find themselves in the real world, susceptible to the elements, predators, viruses and bacteria. There's no turning back for a newborn: life is what it is. One survives or does not. That's a reality that cannot be unmade.
There does exist one small tranche of zoology, however, an infraclass of Phylum Chordata, that does not adhere to the instantaneous revelation of birth: to wit, our friends Marsupialia; the wombat and honey possum, the kangaroo and koala, the bandicoot and bilbie. They alone know a kindler, gentler entrance to existence.
The marsupial is born quite prematurely, exits its mother's womb, then crawls into the safety of the mother's pouch, there to latch upon nipple, and grow at a comfortable and secure rate, venturing forth from the pouch occasionally, until inexorably kicked from that pouch by the bedraggled and consumed mother.
I often think of my liberal counterparts as the marsupial class in the taxonomy of sentience. Once they are "born," or achieve an age of reason, they look upon the realities of life and are afraid. They therefore retreat back into the metaphorical maternal pouch for protection against reality. There they can nurse upon a safe teat, and peek over the horizon as curiosity allows. If the world is too violent, they may retreat. If the face of reality is fearsome, there is mother's bosom to make the nightmares dissipate.
The pouch of security for the marsuperal takes many forms, but it is most recognized in the forms of academe, government sinecure, and the arts. These are the safe rooms to which the liberal will retreat when the peek over the horizon is too ghastly to bear. In the nurturing faux womb the liberal may reinforce their ill-formed opinions of the outside world, of reality, and feel safe and cozy.
Unlike the true marsupial, the marsuperal often never matures. The sinecures provide sustenance to the host mother, who is then become slothful to the fate of her offspring. They may reside in the pouch forever, so long as the parasite in the pouch provides a modicum of sustenance. Of course the marsuperal grows ever larger, and with larger appetites. Theoretically, as California shows us, the marsuperal can actually kill off the host, who will die with the spark of maternal love still in its eye.
It is a pressing, often hot world for those who eschew the faux womb. There are creatures out there who abhor us. Creatures who are jealous of us. Creatures who merely crave the same resources we do. That is the reality. Resisting the logic of this, the fact of this, and retreating to the pouch will not make these bogeymen go away. It merely empowers them, and brings them nearer.
Our planet appears quite peaceful and serene from the Earthrise view. This is a figment of perspective. Beneath the clouds, beneath the seas, is turmoil. Life on this planet is consumption and creation. The animal and plant consume, yet they create: muscle, fiber, energy. That is the order of things. The wolf will not live with the lamb. No number of seminars and treatises from the pouch of academe will make this so. No number of usurpations from the public fisc by the government suzerains will make this so. And no number of pop lyrics will make this so.
When the marsupial liberal is willing to live freely, of his own breath, and forego the pouch of failure, we will all be equal creatures. Until then he is merely a titbound creature, useful for observation, but hardly a specimen for emulation.
Damn. Yeah.
Posted by: og at January 11, 2010 9:05 PMTerrific writing, as usual, but allow me to throw a bit of cold water on the marsupial analogy.
I saw a documentary about how those tiny, newborn, wriggling little worms make it into that pouch and it ain't none too fun. If a kangaroo newborn can't crawl its way into the pouch on its own, or should it lose its way or its grip, it's done for.
So, really, even marsupials have to work much harder for the teat than do the liberal class.
Posted by: jmflynny at January 11, 2010 11:03 PMDamn, Vman.
You hit the top row on that one.
very good writing. thanks.
Posted by: bondage at January 12, 2010 5:30 AMYou are the Cyrano of the keyboard my friend.
Posted by: JohnB at January 12, 2010 6:56 AMYou are the Cyrano of the keyboard my friend.
Posted by: JohnB at January 12, 2010 6:58 AMYou're the Marlin Perkins of the political world, Vman.
:o)
Posted by: Joan of Argghh! at January 12, 2010 8:00 AMYou spanked it for sure...
Posted by: Yabu at January 12, 2010 9:25 AMDon't forget that loathsome marsupial: "journalist"!
Posted by: Pat at January 12, 2010 9:56 AMExcellent post. Love the metaphor.
Posted by: Nicole at January 12, 2010 4:17 PMI sit here in the last row of seats in the ballpark, and I caught that homer with my eyes, my ears, my brain!
Posted by: Mockingbird at January 12, 2010 4:19 PMTitbound? LMAO!
Posted by: PeggyU at January 12, 2010 4:25 PMJournalists are the milk-ants of the busy mound of community organizers. They milk the White Liberal of all their guilt-laden propensities. Unfortunately, the aphids are a blight on the rose of Freedom. I had posted a comment over at BigGov to that effect, regarding the whine over double standards of racism:
"I'm pretty sure it's not about double standards. It's about arranging things for the maximum benefit. White Liberals are the aphids of the busy community organizers, and they milk them for all kinds of political nourishment. Black Liberals do not care if the aphids are racist as their use to the Black community isn't based on what they say, but on how much money they will yield for their purposes."
I hadn't thought of the Journalists as the milk-ants until the previous commenter suggested a category for them.
It's a great time to be a political animal, I guess.
Posted by: Joan of Argghh! at January 12, 2010 6:03 PMAlso, marsupial's are generally light-skinned and don't speak with a marsupial accent....unless they want to....
Posted by: Tbird at January 12, 2010 6:34 PMAn extremely fine essay.
Posted by: Mandingo Bacigalupi at January 12, 2010 7:09 PMI have long considered the Leftist to be worse than a child. Take for example an ex-friend of mine who claimed to be offended by the fact that the basics of survival (food, shelter, clothing, transportation and medical care) are considered property and must then be purchased on the open market instead of being supplied by government to all.
"Grow up", said I, "even a toddler eventually says 'Let me! I can do it!'"
Unsurprisingly, he also developed a raging case of anti-Semitism, which is why he is an ex-friend.
Posted by: Randy Rager at January 12, 2010 7:24 PMA fascinating analogy, delightfully constructed.
Political subtext aside, I think there are more of these Marsupial-Folk walking the planet than ever before. Consider the college student who moves back home rather than seeking his or her fortune in the wild world. We seem to be creating a Generation of the Helpless.
Fuck that. Get rid of that bike helmet, kid! Climb on them monkey bars... the ones that the playground designers, in their wisdom, installed on an asphalt parking lot. That was my childhood... and if you managed to survive it, why, you were all the stronger for it.
Posted by: Elisson at January 12, 2010 7:47 PMFlynny, the aphorism of the marsupial is flawless and perfect; the newborn worm "struggles" through a few inches of soft, warm fur, to arrive in a warm pouch where it spends the next several years being coddled and fed at will. Liberals look at their manufactured "Suffering" as if it were some epic journey, when it was but a short crawl through soft conditions.
Had a co-worker- a graphic artist- who considered himself to have "Suffered" for his art, by alienating all the people that loved him through his insolence and rudeness. So he ended up living in his car. he deserved a swift kick in the ass, and eventually, I got around to administering it to him.
Posted by: og at January 12, 2010 8:11 PMSomeone bought you a bottle of high-grade hooch this Christmas, didn't they?
Posted by: zonker at January 12, 2010 8:53 PMA superb essay. I think marsupials are edible, but liberals may be poisonous.
Posted by: Hermit at January 12, 2010 9:02 PMI'm not up to sucking your dick or anything, but ya made your point well enough.
Posted by: dick at January 12, 2010 9:03 PMWriting like that is why I keep coming back. In between visits it's dictionary time.
Posted by: Guaman at January 13, 2010 5:26 AMAmazing essay, excellent analogy.
Well done sir.
Who are the utterly effed up monotreme class? Just curious.
Posted by: PeggyU at January 13, 2010 4:17 PMThe monotremes are the press.
Posted by: og at January 13, 2010 9:01 PMThat is well known that cash can make us autonomous. But how to act when someone does not have cash? The one way is to get the loan and just commercial loan.
Posted by: loan at August 2, 2011 11:04 PM