Metaphor mania, or a purple prose by any other name:

As one of the graybeards around here, I’ve been dealing with the modern Left since 1967, when I first encountered this mutant species of snarling societal and cultural vandals in their native habitat, a major American private university. Wrapped in their Tarnhelms of “tolerance,” which protected them in their vulnerable cocoons, they incubated in a toxic amniotic broth of second-hand Marxism and third-generation gangsterism — red-diaper grandbabies with the street-fighting ethos of the old Gophers, Eastmans and Five Pointers. In the summer of 1968, like the chest-burster in Alien, they exploded through the institutional retaining walls, took to the streets of Chicago, and they’ve been with us ever since; in fact, they’re now in power.

Clear as mud.