Sometimes in a world of apparently random and disconnected events you need a telescope to comprehend the big picture and gain some understanding of how all the smaller parts fit together to make up the whole. But at other times it is necessary to drill down really deep into the smaller parts themselves to discover the hidden forces that drive them along their chosen pathways – and then the power of a microscope is more useful in helping to unravel the mysteries of human conduct.

Which is why the self justifying manifesto  of the Rochester egg man who went to a Borders Palin book signing event hoping to throw an egg at Sarah Palin is a document of considerable significance because, as we push beyond the usual adolescent pseudo-revolutionary posturing we can observe an uglier truth  about the mindset of this weird gremlin, who Lenin would have filed as a “useful idiot”, and his more sinister dancing masters, the Chris Matthews, Geoffrey Dunns and Andrew Sullivans whose steady drumbeat of lies and crude, misogynistic vitriol has the sole purpose of dehumanizing Sarah Palin and, by association, her supporters.

Once you have managed to characterise your opponent as some kind of malevolent, alien force you can then step outside the constraints of civil discourse and either excuse or even justify acts of cruelty or violence because the object of your hatred threatens your own humanity. It happened in Salem, in Nazi Germany and during the Chinese Cultural Revolution, in Bosnia and Rwanda – depersonalise the “enemy” and then no holds are barred.

We know, of course, that the Rochester egg man arrived too late to become the Huffington hero and martyr himself  – his prime target had already left. So he chose the even more familiar ritual of the radical left, a piece of street theatre, of performance art. He attacked the symbol of Sarah Palin, her book display.

In one motion, the egg is out and I’m pitching it full force at a pyramid of Palin books. In slow motion I see the oblong, white missile fly true towards its mark. The egg loudly smashes into Palin’s grinning, idiot face, and chicken menses  splatters the entire pyramid.

How high he must have been at that moment – he was 1776, 1789, 1917. He would become a god at Kos, he would be embraced by Arianna Huffington, lauded at mudflats, feted at Tina Brown’s next party….maybe even share a centerfold with Ricky Hollywood….

He was held by the police but he didn’t care – like the students in Tehran he was ready to face beatings and imprisonment on behalf of all  those people who “are suffering while Palin spreads insidious lies about health care.”

Then he came face to face with Adrienne Ross….

Next, a small herd of people gather around me. A black woman, whom I thought to be a reporter when I saw her in Borders, is front and center. Maybe she’ll take my story and turn this sad and ridiculous fiasco into something worthwhile.

Reading that immediately sparks a red shift and we are able to enter the alternative universe inhabited by egg man and his kind. It is a universe of certainties governed not by the rules of evidence and reason but the laws of Arianna where you begin with your deduction and then sculpt the proofs to endorse it.  The egg man sees a black woman at a Palin book tour and he knows she can’t be a supporter of the ‘Cuda because Chris Matthews has told him that when you see a Palin crowd there is no ethnic diversity and when she speaks of Real America – well that’s just code for Bull Connor style white supremacy.

A black reporter – maybe for CNN or CBS or the NYT – the anticipation put egg man on cruise control. The Fox guy had brushed him off but now he could help the media shine a light on Palin’s plan to crush the sick. Cool and calm he awaited the first question – and then his universe shattered into a million glistening shards as he discovered  the truth about Adrienne Ross – she wasn’t his saviour, she was his nemesis.

Each of the crowd is holding Palin books, including my imagined African American savior. They are pissed Palin pals and apparently I had gotten them with egg. The woman complains that she was up since 3 am for Sarah, and now she has to change her clothes.

Egg man redshifts again, he’s back in his universe and it’s all gone Huffington. Adrienne is no longer the black Katie Couric raring for the dirt on Palin – she’s a Palinista and, by definition, a non person, ready to be worked to death in KZ or Gulag then buried in an unmarked grave. Even worse, as a black Palinista she becomes a “race traitor”, a non person amongst the non people.

To them, any facts are mere fabrications of a media conspiracy. We are no longer able to reason together, as they’ve discarded rational thought as a trapping of liberalism.

The egg man’s Orwellian Newspeak is a wonder to behold. He who only seconds before was delighting in an act of ritualised violence on behalf of the masses now complains that his victim has discarded rational thought – the red shift is complete.

The egg man’s pathetic manifesto reveals the hollowness of his world view, the infantilism of his self centred posturing. He would claim to be another Zapata but reading his pathetic testament  with it’s theatrical sentimentality the image of an embryonic Streicher comes to mind.

In the end, though, it might have been fortunate for the egg man that security was so quick to react. Adrienne Ross is a feisty young lady – she teaches in a New York public school, she rides a Harley and is on fire for the Lord, like one of Cromwell’s troopers. If she had decided to construct her own piece of street theatre on the egg man I wouldn’t have wanted to be in his shoes…..