We Americans dwell in different worlds, indeed. Not only do our values diverge; our basic perceptions clash. One set of eyeballs watched the white house correspondence dinner and saw a cutting, hilarious performance by the brave, Indian muslim american comedian Hasan Minhaj in the presence of the ever principled press. A different pair of eyes crinkled and saw a lame, tame, shrill, embarrassing, cheap, unfunny flailfest hosted by spurned, spiteful nerds who persistently refuse to accept their weakening grip on the American public and waning influence on the Executive Branch of the Government.
The results are in for the American experiment in its most soul crushing, contemporary guise: it’s a failure. Abstract American ideals(proposition nation), liberalism and destructive immigration policies have produced a shattered polity without a shred of comity, a fractured amalgam of alien tribes seething with envy and distrust for each other, an indigestible, managerial soup of stewing identities tensely and inorganically jumbled together in historically anomalous and culturally evaporating melting pots.
Sophisticated simpletons call for more conversation, more exposure, more dialogue across channels. They mistake the problem for the solution. We are overly aware of people unlike ourselves and painfully proximate to untrustworthy others. Far from living in tritely and tiredly titled echo chambers, we rather live in noisy, clanging, disorganized, disagreeable vaults of dissonance, where people we don’t like and don’t want near us proudly blast their every antagonistic opinion at every available opportunity.
Healthy and robust debate is a sporting practice for people who are mostly the same and mostly believe the same things. Trying to debate someone that wants you dead, gone, or converted is like playing chess with a tiger. You may have brilliant moves on the board, but you’re still getting your face ripped off.
I read a CNN article by some disposable, dickless ham-sack reporter, Don Oblodoobie or whatever, on the White House corruptspondents dinner. This raggedy ann doll of a man seriously thought that Trump held a rally in Pennsylvania because he wanted to distract attention away from the dinner. Because he just couldn’t withstand the hickory smoked heat of a street shitting diversity hire's blazing comedic barbecue. Our oncall deepthroat specialist/reporter sashayed his merry way to the clueless contention that Trump is once again showing himself too tender for a real roasting and didn't want anyone else to notice it either.
The full menu of exhaustively mined material offered by the oily, spit shined ventriloquist dumbwaiter included such rich dishes as “ Our president isn’t here because he can’t take a joke”, “the orange man with the muslim ban”, and a joke about putin being the real president of the US. It doesn’t get any deadlier than this caste society castoff's surgically slicing wit; Trump obviously had to skip town for fear of getting thoroughly dissected down to his gleaming white russian puppet bones.
It’s not like Trump hasn’t already weathered an olympic shitstorm of feckless, numbnut, wide of the mark insults from day zero of his campaign for president. Or endured the deluge of tone deaf, lobotomized droning about his character defects, lack of morals and stupidity once he became president.
It’s not as though every single moment of every single day isn’t already densely packed with irate, hysterical featherweights fluttering for him to step down or be impeached, hyperventilated outrage from suddenly upright sentinels of civilization fretting and fussing like Victorian schoolmarms, unlikeable prigs tripping over each other to be the most aghast, the most asthmatically offended and terrified, as well as repetitious, hackneyed cliches and junior high heaving over Trump's appearance and manners.
Yes, of course that's the answer; poor, thin skinned, stupid little donnie boy had to run and hide from the righteously superior media just waiting to remind him for the first time of his manifold imperfections. This is the same man who built and maintained a business empire and wrote a manual on negotiation and persuasion, became a television star, ran an unexpectedly successful campaign in which he systemically targeted, undermined, and destroyed his rivals one by one and made the entire republican party look like the inept, bumbling, shilling sacks of shit that they truly are in front of the whole world.
And then without missing a step or pausing for rest, took on and took down the corrupt democratic political machine and its frankenstein’s monster of sleazy, reptilian career politicians, illiterate dish washing track and field athletes, alien crime syndicates, self loathing, hedonistic and atomized whites, dysphoric freaks and dysfunctional blacks mush mouthing about non existent structural racism in society as their own kind casually massacred each other over sneakers and disruhspeck in the streets.
When reviewing this meteoric rise from unoriginal object of ridicule as a reality television star to consistently lampooned presidential candidate to mechanically mocked president, this arc of triumph studded with slander and scorn, any journalist with any sense at all would conclude that Trump the man can take a joke and a whole hell of a lot more.
But when the sniveling, weaseling, trash eating, slime coated press fires up its collectively available three brain cells and squeezes out the desiccated turd of a thought that Trump is afraid of them, that he can’t take a joke, they’re engaging in a highly wrought, humiliating form of histrionic projection. Trump played them all like fools, turning their self righteous, shameless power whoring and obsessive, catty, vindictiveness against them, to the delight of the formerly disempowered American people. He showed the people you can shame the shamers right back, and then ignore them.
The joke is on the press, and they’re the ones who can’t take it; Trump and the rest of America are laughing at the humorless, spastic dorks clutching their clipboards and ineffectually, effeminately scribbling their latest charisma depleted screeds oozing with incompetence and smug self assuredness.
The message of Trump rallying his people rather than falling asleep from boredom at a laugh-less dork dinner is as clear and obvious as the press is willfully, perversely obtuse and degenerate: The “free” press doesn't control the american people and can't shame them into giving up their country and their dignity. Nor can they control the President. Rather than staging more spectacles and zombie march protests, each and every bug eyed, soulless presstitute can go huff and hot box their own curry scented farts in their tightly packed media clown car. Trump isn't a desperate despot, using every available trick to silence and discredit his detractors; he's an indifferent jock, ignoring the rabble rousing goons until it's time to shove their heads into dirty toilet water for a laugh.
And people who care about an America with borders, rule of law and truth and beauty are perfectly able and willing to make decisions for themselves without the distorted dogma and interference of increasingly obsolete bobble headed hand puppets of the globalist, spirit sucking, nation wrecking, demographically displacing schemers.
The Titanic press is sinking and these encrusted assholes are listening to the band play as the ice water approaches. The blindness and arrogance that led to the rise of Trump can’t and won’t be corrected now. Rather than reform their ways and beg for forgiveness on their knees, they’ll march ahead with jihadi lesbians and shitskin hack comedians until their last, weak, alienating hand has been played and they have nowhere to go but shrieking and screaming into the eternal night of irrelevance.
Dear members of the media: no ones likes you or respects you, you insular, febrile, feculent pack of jackals and vultures, you lackeys and lickspittles, you bull fluffers, cowards and tattle tales. Your whoring grew shameful enough to shock even the sleepy, consuming masses into a state of vigilance and intolerance, and you have no moral or intellectual authority over governing bodies or voting peoples.
I dream of the day when your last extravagant, back patting, ungainly, nervous cackling dinner takes place before a firing squad.
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