Eric Alterman is wrose then Hitlery:
As you may recall, Goldberg’s primary claim to public attention derived from exploiting the disreputable part his mother, Lucianne Goldberg, played in Linda Tripp’s betrayal of Monica Lewinsky. Then employed as the vice president of Mom’s right-wing literary agency, Goldberg told reporters he planned to pen a “Bonfire of the Vanities-type thing about stories peripheral to the scandal,” with imagined movie deals to follow. Well, the only person who might imagine making a movie of the book Goldberg finally did write a decade later would be Mel Brooks. Liberal Fascism is the “Springtime for Hitler” of intellectual history. The book reads like a Google search gone gaga. Some Fascists were vegetarians; some liberals are vegetarians; ergo… Some Fascists were gay; some liberals are gay… Fascists cared about educating children; Hillary Clinton cares about educating children. Aha! (I see from my own ten seconds of Googling that cult leader Lyndon LaRouche beat Goldberg to this argument by five years with an essay titled “How Liberalism Created Fascism,” published by his presidential committee. Hmmm.) People, this is a book that argues that Woodrow Wilson “was the twentieth century’s first fascist dictator” and that it is “impossible to deny that the New Deal was objectively fascistic.” [...]
As dumb as Liberal Fascism may be, Goldberg has managed to sound even dumber when discussing it. He has modestly described his book as “a very serious, thoughtful argument that has never been made in such detail or with such care.” And in an interview published in Salon, he actually makes the statement, “The only reason [Mussolini] got dubbed a Fascist and therefore a right-winger is because he supported World War I.” Of course, out here in the real world, we think of Mussolini as the fellow who founded what would become Italy’s National Fascist Party and became a proud dictator in its name, which would strike most people as a better reason to dub him a Fascist. [...]
I’m tempted to call the publication of Liberal Fascism an intellectual scandal, but I remember that I live in a country where White House press secretary Dana Perino can admit to having no idea what the Cuban missile crisis was. (“Wasn’t that like the Bay of Pigs thing?”) And it thrives in a culture where Ann Coulter not only rules bestseller lists but has found herself, according to the nonprofit Media Matters, interviewed nearly 200 times on at least thirteen programs on MSNBC, CNBC and NBC, not including the period she worked there. True, Goldberg does not call people “faggots” in public or speculate merrily on the joys of mass murder, but his scholarly method is most definitely Coulterian. Like Coulter, he’s got a bunch of footnotes. And for all I know, they check out. But they are put in the service of an argument that no one with any knowledge of the topic would take seriously.
National Review and the Poor Man Institute, linked together in their cause and in their need, will defend to the death their very awesome theory that W.I.C. = The Holocaust, aiding each other like good comrades to the utmost of their strength. Even though large sections of brains may have oozed out our ears to avoid further exposure to our odious stupidity, we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in our office chairs, we shall fight in our mom’s dens and basements, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing waistlines on the internets, we shall defend our egos, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the cable news shows, we shall fight on the bookshelves, we shall fight in the editorial pages of the LA Times, we shall fight in
Iraq Afghanistan other parts of the internet which weren’t covered by my previous reference to the internet; we shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, we were to be reduced to tears because people are mean and nobody takes our serious and thoughtful ideas seriously and thoughtfully, then our moms and their friends would continue to get us cushy talking head jobs, until, in God’s good time, we get bored of it and start carrying on about some other God-damned horseshit. So nyah.