In contrast, having written Bobos in Paradise, Brooks produced a nicely-written field guide to the new Left, and then afterwards, cashed in by going to work for those very same Bobos under the aegis of the New York Times, and in the process, became one of them. The result has been a series of spectacular judgment errors, most legendarily, falling in love with the Senator from Cook County because of his trouser creases, but later viewing the former governor of Alaska, the Tea Party, and now Sen. Ted Cruz as all falling into the infra dig category of “Not Our Class, Darling.”
Occasionally, Brooks comes to his senses — he admitted in a 2011 New York Times column that “I’m a sap, a specific kind of sap. I’m an Obama Sap.” Well, no kidding, David. But to keep the paychecks rolling in, Brooks must continue to toe Pinch’s party line.
Which helps to explain his Canadian formulation to insult Ted Cruz. It isn’t just going birther; Brooks is trekking very close to the same “White Hispanic” Siberian territory where the Times had previously dispatched George Zimmerman last year. Which is a reminder that, to paraphrase Frank Burns on TV’s MAS*H, as far as the Gray Lady and its employees are concerned, tribalism is fine, as long as we all do it together.
Brooks’ now-permanent pique at finding himself utterly rejected as a conservative wise man by actual, you know, conservatives, leads him into these sissified little bits of unmanly snark aimed at his betters like Ted Cruz.
At this rate he’ll soon find himself in a closet with David Frum, another failed reject, with mutual masturbation as their only solace. Like calls to like and all that.