The more I argued with them, the better I came to know their
dialectic. First they counted on the stupidity of their adversary, and
then, when there was no other way out, they themselves simply played
stupid. If all this didn’t help, they pretended not to understand, or,
if challenged, they changed the subject in a hurry, quoted platitudes
which, if you accepted them, they immediately related to entirely
different matters, and then, if again attacked, gave ground and
pretended not to know exactly what you were talking about. Whenever you
tried to attack one of these apostles, your hand closed on a jelly-like
slime which divided up and poured through your fingers, but in the next
moment collected again. But if you really struck one of these fellows
so telling a blow that, observed by the audience, he couldn’t help but
agree, and if you believed that this had taken you at least one step
forward, your amazement was great the next day. [He] had not the
slightest recollection of the day before, he rattled off his same old
nonsense as though nothing at all had happened, and, if indignantly
challenged, affected amazement; he couldn’t remember a thing, except
that he had proved the correctness of his assertions the previous day.
Sometimes I stood there thunderstruck. I didn’t know what to be more
amazed at: the agility of their tongues or their virtuosity at lying.
Now, what I can’t figure out, is this fellow talking about winger neocon imperialists or lefty socialist moonbats?