Downright perfect -- politics as explained through a biology lesson
From Kim at Velociworld:
The Marsupial ClassThere is more -- go and read the rest. This metaphor does a lot to explain the failure-to-learn and failure-to-remember that so permeates the liberal mindset.
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.
