Shorter Michael Goldfarb: When did Iran stop directing al-Qaeda to beat your wife?

The thrust of Goldfarb’s argument (we’ll be kind enough to call it that) seems to be that since we can’t rule it * out the possibility that al-Qaeda and Iran are working together, therefore they are. Besides, they may have cooperated in some limited, contingent sense in the past which pretty much seals the deal.

Hey, that’s kind of neat, can I try? Hmmm, let’s see how this works: the US supported the Afghan mujahadeen in the past, some members of which later formed al-Qaeda. Therefore, Bush is supportnig al-Qaeda in Iraq! How can you deny it when it’s totally possible and so has historical backing! Besides, can you really say that none of the money going to Sunni militias is ending up in the hands of AQI? Huh? Can you?

At first, Goldfarb and the “faster, please kill, kill, kill” set were content to simply mesmerize the audience with a flashy game of pundit pinball (pocketless variety). You know the game: bounce the same loosely sourced article around so furiously that it creates the illusion that there’s solid evidence. There’s probably a subatomic particle analogy in there somewhere if but I’m lazy and non-sciencey so pinball it remains.

Now, though, McCain and company think that they may have found a fear hook you can hang a campaign on. Maybe even, sell a war. The heart it flutters. So pundit pinball is being replaced with geo-political omelletery. Matt Duss, braver than you or I, is keeping tabs on the kitchen stadium challenge.

Mac’s recipie is insidious, if familiar: throw a couple of loosely sourced “leaks” in a bowl, mix with some half-truths, innuendo, a pinch of Lieberman’s drone, demands to prove a negative, charges of anti-Semitism, intel gleaned from enhanced interrogation techniques, a tablespoon of Cheney’s grimace, whip it up with the whisk of the moslemofascigayiphate, cook it over a low flame of ignorance, and voila: Iran and al-Qaeda are decked out in loosely fitting white linen riding horses side by side as the sun sets on some tropical beach. Soul mates. A union almost as dangerous as a marriage between two men. Almost.

Cue the Beach Boys, oil the codpiece.

*righteous