When everything is a crisis, nothing is a crisis. We forgot how to live at a baseline level of political sobriety. Then came November 4, 2008. The drug was gone. The "W." era ended. And the nation went into immediate withdrawal.
In the months following the attacks, the nation needed a certain kind of high: decisive, simplistic, and visceral. Bush provided "The Axis of Evil," "Mission Accomplished," and the thrill of hunting for WMDs. It was a raw, emotional power trip. For a moment, the fuzzy ambiguity of the 90s vanished. You were either with us or against the terrorists. addicted to bush 2
The late-night comics became our dealers. The "Bush-isms"— "Fool me once, shame on... shame on you. Fool me—you can't get fooled again." —were our drug of choice. Every malapropism, every awkward smirk, every quizzical head-tilt was a dopamine hit for the left and a rallying cry for the right. When everything is a crisis, nothing is a crisis