It had the same effect on them that a man sitting in a front-row seat and banging a gong has on the lead flutist in a Mozart concert. “Them,” needless to say, are the “elites,” a poor description if ever there was one of the rabble that is Hollywood types, engaged ladies who lunch, cheap celebrities, media persons, reality stars, postmodern professors, Davos people, LGBT activists, women of color in general, and women of color with more than ten children by different fathers in particular.
Yes, dear readers, the reaction by our “elites” to the election of Donald Trump has been extraordinary. By comparison, an Italian mob—whose team was denied a penalty as the final whistle blew—were quite serene and sportsmanlike. (They nevertheless set fire to the stadium and tried to murder the referee.) I have witnessed less emotion and seen fewer tears in Cairo after Egypt’s favorite strongman Nasser dropped dead of a heart attack. (At least a hundred people committed suicide.) Finally, there was less anger by a Mexican father 55 years ago when I ran off with his daughter while her rich fiancé waited for her in vain back in Paris. (He nevertheless attacked me, ignoring the fact that both of my legs were in plaster after a skiing accident.)
The sanctimonious and mendacious New York Times, a newspaper that puts Pravda to shame, leads the field in abandoning all pretense to objectivity, yet The Donald chose to visit that den of iniquity and lunch with people who have called him names I wouldn’t call Bill Clinton’s child-molester buddy Jeffrey Epstein. Roger Cohen, a bald columnist for the Old Hag, who prides himself on being a peripatetic cosmopolite, called the election not only a fraud but a “looming apocalypse.” Before the vote that shook the world, Cohen warned us that voting for Trump was equivalent to voting for Hitler back in 1933.
Another sarcasm-challenged columnist of the Old Bag is Nicholas Kristof, a man who hates whites, Christians, heterosexuals, and—most likely—apple pie. Kristof loathes General Flynn and claims he shills for Russia. The fact that Kristof’s employer shills for Mexico is neither here nor there. Kristof also hates Steve Bannon, whom he calls a white supremacist, an antisemite, an Islamophobe, a homophobe, and a misogynist. My, my—all these boys drawing their paychecks from Carlos Slim, whose $40 billion fortune was built on the backs of Mexican peons, sure like to call people names. When the neocons were shilling for Israel and taking George W. Bush down Iraqi way, Times voices were muffled to the extreme. Trump’s election seems to have brought on a collective nervous breakdown. Nurse, help!
The outrage I liked best came from the usual suspects throwing around the words fear and rational. Fear of Islam is, of course, rational, but not for those in the media who loathe white, heterosexual Christians—a far, far bigger threat to the politically correct than any bomb-throwing bearded Arab maniac. And it gets better and better. Media types are in the forefront of crying wolf by imagining what things will look like if “the unsavory elements that tore through the 2016 election” win out. You, dear readers, are the unsavory elements; you are the ones who used false narratives and fake news to delegitimize traditional journalism. Poor traditional hacks—why are we being so cruel to them, even after watching that ghastly Martha Raddatz of ABC News spilling tears on election night?
Hollywood, of course, is as enraged as the Fourth Estate is with Trump’s victory. Late-night comedians are having a field day attacking the deplorables, over 60 million, the last I counted. But let’s get serious. This, too, is our fault—the fault of us deplorables. If 60 million Americans refused to watch HBO and the disgusting British freeloader John Oliver, if we boycotted the main news networks, if we discontinued reading the New York Times and the Washington Post, perhaps the mainstream media might think again. Money, after all, is their god, and 60 million is a hell of a lot of folks, as they say.
Mind you, the media’s approval rating is at an all-time low—32 percent—which means the media are far less loved than their favorite target, The Donald, who stands at 51 percent, as of this writing. The New Yorker is a very tired, extremely boring shadow of a once fun magazine, whose values are similar to those of the Times: Lesbians, gays, transgenders, and bisexuals are superior to normal people; blacks are better than whites; and those on welfare, a step above those who work for a living. To New Yorker readers most Americans are yokels who live in Flyover Country, an ignominious swath of humanity. They are the invisibles whom late-night comics make fun of nonstop. These are the people whom the very homely Amy Schumer, cousin of the New York senator and minority leader Chuck Schumer, mocked, threatening to leave the country forever if their choice prevailed. She made 17 million greenbacks last year. Next time you see her name anywhere, give it a miss.
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