No, Banshee, Tell Me How You Really Feel.
It's just as well I did forget about Fr. Gearhart's nifty post on St. Albert the Great, because right above that, the good father goes into McCain compliment mode. (Boy, I hope that's tongue-in-cheek. Very.)
My opinion on McCain differs from his. But then, it differs quite a bit from that of almost everyone else I know, so hey, why not air it on my blog?
I'm sick of McCain, frankly. Yes, he was a hero when the chips were down. But apparently, when the chips are not down, he has absolutely no hesitation in following his own opinions to the exclusion of anyone else's needs. Party loyalty to him is as a breath of air pushing against bricks.
Political promises also mean nothing; he always reserves the right to change his mind and say, "Oh, well, my conscience won't let me do that now." Well, if that happened once or twice, I think I'd understand. But if your conscience is going to change its mind as frequently as McCain's, you ought not to promise anyone anything until you and your conscience have chatted fully.
So yes, McCain's candid. But when someone candidly tells you he's about to torpedo you... and he's on your own side... well, there's something to be said for showing a little shame, however hypocritically.
Still, seeing as how he fights for causes he believes in and how he is loyal to those he believes to be his own, I can only assume that Mr. McCain no longer considers himself a Republican, a conservative, or anything else but a McCainite. Which is fine, but if that's what he is, he should run as such, and not take money from those he has come to despise. That would be candor.
I suspect that I feel so strongly on this subject because I have been subjected to a false friend. One of my less lovely childhood memories of parochial school in my old parish was getting taunted by a whole big ring of boys, which turned into fighting with them. (Fortunately, I had brothers, and they were apparently unaware that girls could punch hard. I enlightened them.) All the while, I kept expecting my best friend (a girl who was the biggest and strongest kid in my class) to wade in, bring the adults to save me, or at least yell support. Nothing happened. The adults maintained their usual observation of that Catholic value, the Prime Directive. The boys only broke it up when one of the teachers happened to look outside and see what was going on, and came out to deal with it.
Well, I expected constant harassment from the other kids and constant negligence from the adults. But if my brothers' classes had been out on the playground with us, I knew they would have waded in. Yet my friend, who was even taller than my elder brother, had stood there watching and pretending not to know me. Now, that upset me. I inquired the reason for this action.
She told me, without any shame, with perfect self-righteousness, that I couldn't possibly have expected her to fight all those boys. (Did I mention that she was very proud of her strength?) I had set them off, after all, by being alive. And besides, telling the adults wouldn't have done anything. The whole thing was my problem. I should be glad that she hung out with me at all.
False friends and allies have their uses. But really, they are worse associates than outright enemies. At least you know where your enemies stand. You have a decent hope that they will see the light or have a shift in self-interest. But a false friend is a false friend forever.