For once, we actually had a candidate, but as Ron Paul retires and his son does his best to sully the family brand name, the future of the movement he inspired is in doubt. No one was surprised that Jesse Benton, head honcho of the Paul presidential campaign—known for his propensity to sell out at the drop of a hat—went to work for Mitch McConnell. And Rand Paul not only endorsed the man who had stolen half his father’s delegates, but actively campaigned for him.
As Murray Rothbard used to kvetch, Are we to be spared nothing?
It gets worse, however, because now we are faced with a choice between Mitt, a hologram masquerading as a person, and That Man in the White House. What is a reactionary to do?
Despair is one alternative, and beyond that, indifference. We could adopt the Olympian perspective of a Robinson Jeffers, hole up in some secluded spot, and contemplate the decline of what had once been a great nation as a scientist would contemplate the death of the universe: as a natural event, to be appreciated for its terrible beauty. Shine, perishing republic!
Yet the Paul campaign—and the Buchanan campaigns before it—gave us some hope, however dim, that the reactionary populist fire hasn’t gone out of the American soul. As the crisis of the regime accelerates, its cruelties and aspirations to...