So January is already half over, and especially after such a great December, the new year is off to a bit of a rough start. I started January 1st with a New Year’s resolution: to be more patient with people who disagree with me. (In other words, with those who are wildly, unforgivably wrong about everything.)(P.S. This may not be my easiest resolution to keep.)
But then God tested my resolve right out of the box, by confronting me with several aggravating stories.
For example, I heard that the northeast was going to be hit with a “bomb cyclone,” and my first thought was naturally, “Holy Cow, what is Rocket Man up to now? Last I heard, he was firing missiles toward Japan, half of which didn’t make it to their target. And now he’s developed a Bomb Cyclone that can reach our east coast?! Where are we with our own Bomb Cyclone technology? The last cool thing we came up with was Stealth Fighters, and now we get beaten to the punch by that roly poly little guy who was barely able to outwit Hans Blix in that puppet movie?”
Then, of course, I learned that “Bomb Cyclone” means “snow storm.”
Okay then. What is it with our populace and storm names? Several years ago I was visiting family in Illinois in the winter – I went there specifically to see a little snow – and I got there a day before a heavy snowfall. But the news media didn’t call it a heavy snowfall.
Half of them called it, “Snowpacalypse” and the other half called it, “Snow-mageddon.” (I guess “Snowlocaust” was too soon?)
I’m not sure what it says about a society when citizens start to over-dramatize routine, seasonal weather, but it’s not good.
Also at the beginning of this year, I experienced a whirlwind round of what Ben Shapiro calls “good Trump, bad Trump.” The good was very good: in one tweet, he mentioned that he won the presidency “on the first try,” and – in what has to be my favorite phrase of the new year so far – that he was “a very stable genius.”
How can you not love that? Yes, it’s cartoonishly self-aggrandizing and even adolescent. But he’s fighting with people who give adolescence a bad name, and are so dishonest and corrupt that it is one of the greatest pleasures of public life to watch them be trolled into a state of frothing, irrational hatred. And boy, did “stable genius” stick in their craw.
On the other hand, as CO readers know, I’ve got mixed feelings about our president. After one needlessly self-destructive tweet or another (that judge can’t give me a fair shot because he’s a Mexican, I like war heroes who didn’t get captured, etc.), I begin to despair at the damage that he might do to the GOP brand (even though I care a lot more about defending conservatism than the GOP brand that has already been regularly undermined by establishment squishes), and to his ability to advance a conservative agenda.
But then there are the other tweets, and their abrasive dose of much-needed reality: the UN is a bunch of kleptocrats and we’re going to insist that they shape up or we’re holding back our money (yes!), the same goes for the Palestinians (yes!!), Crooked Hillary this (Yes!), Pocohontas that (YES!!), we’re going to have a big, beautiful tax cut that also kills the Obamacare mandate (Meg Ryan in the “When Harry Met Sally” faked-O scene YESSS!!!)
The best thing that conservatives have going for them – and what I think has helped to neutralize what otherwise might be more damaging errors on Trump’s part – is the Democrats’ idiotic, dishonest insistence on blowing everything Trump does so far out of proportion that it often ends up helping him.
Exhibit A: The “Haiti, El Salvador and much of Africa are “s—holes” kerfuffle. That was not a smart comment, and it obscured the valid underlying point (it’s self-destructive to admit people from dysfunctional countries over people from more functional, assimilation-friendly ones) in a particularly unhelpful way.
And yes, I know that we are relying mainly on Dick Durbin’s word that Trump said it. (And by the way, have you ever heard anyone calling Durbin “Richard?” Of course you haven’t. His first name is as fitting as Anthony Weiner’s last name.) Lindsay Lohan also said Trump said it. Oops – Graham. Lindsay Graham.
But as sleazy as those two are, my instinct is that Trump did say it.
Still, the bonehead Dems are mishandling the opportunity by turning their outrage meter to 27, which I think will backfire on them for 2 reasons:
1. It’s pretty rich to watch these hypocrites act offended by either the vulgarity or the insult inherent in the statement. When Obama was signing his signal accomplishment of the Hindenburg-Titanic-New Coke-Edsel-Solyndra-Dumpster-fire Act (AKA, Obamacare) into law, Joe Biden called it “A big f**king deal.” Obama himself called Libya a “s**tshow,” and he referred to the democratically elected leader of our only consistent ally in the Middle East (Netanyahu) as “chickens—t.” In both instances, the MSM yawned. So I don’t think that vulgarity is the issue.
Maybe it was the insulting nature of the comment that is the problem? But when Dick (no one ever calls him “Richard”) Durbin compared US troops in Iraq to Nazis and the thugs working for Stalin and Pol Pot, the MSM ignored it. When Michelle Obama said that she’d never been proud of her country until her husband was elected, the MSM ignored it. When Barack said that his mom’s racism was because she was “a typical white person,” the MSM went nuts, excoriating him for his blatant racist stereotyping.
Just kidding! They ignored it.
All of those insults – directed at Americans – were fine. But Trump’s comment is beyond the pale! It’s S—hole-ageddon! The S—pocalypse is upon us!
2. As they say in the law, truth is an absolute defense. And what Trump said – as insultingly phrased as it was – is true.
I got a kick out of watching several MSM figures tying themselves into verbal and metaphysical knots, trying to keep a straight face while they insisted that everything is just hunky dory in Haiti and Africa.
Yes. That’s why Nancy Pelosi has a palatial winter home in Port au Prince, and Elizabeth Warren summers in Ghana, and Obama is building his hideous presidential library in Zimbabwe. Because a long life expectancy isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and functioning sewer systems are over-rated, and an intermittent electrical supply is charming. Also, medical care that doesn’t involve diagnostically reading chicken entrails, and housing constructed out of something other than straw and the fecal matter of animals were both invented by dead white males. So, yuck.
Anyway, perhaps the best example so far this year of how the Dems are driving non-committed citizens toward Trump is their pathetic performance when they interrogated Trump’s doctor for an hour on January 16th. (Am I conflating the loony Dem left with the MSM reporters at that presser? Yes. Yes I am.)
I don’t know how anyone who doesn’t already despise Trump could watch that debacle and end up feeling anything but sympathy for him, and an overwhelming desire to kick the closest reporter in the groin. In fact, I’ve just been handed a bulletin confirming that that motley collection of “reporters” constituted the highest collective Simpson Face Punchability Index (SFPI©) ever assembled in one room at one time.
The travesty started with the doc stating that Trump’s health is “excellent” and that he has “no mental or cognitive issue whatsoever.” For a normal bunch of humans, that would elicit a “no story here” reaction, followed by a few perfunctory follow-up questions (“How about that cholesterol, though?”) and an early break for lunch.
But for this bunch of hacks, it was the opening salvo to a 21-gun salute of stupid.
They spent an hour asking variations on the same few questions (“But he might be crazy, right?” “Can you definitively rule out that he’s nuts?” “How many chicken nuggets is Trump short of a Happy Meal?” “But what about the dozens of leftist hack ‘doctors’ who have diagnosed Trump as a paranoid schizophrenic without ever having been in a room with him?)
The “mental acuity” test was a highlight of the circus. The reporters thought it was a trap they were going to spring on Trump, but it turned out to be a rake that kept whapping them in their empty, coconut skulls.
Usually, I’m very content with my lot in life. I married up, I’ve got two world-class daughters, I’ve got a good career and a small real estate empire, and the strength of 10 men, because my heart is pure. My mental acuity is off the charts, and I own a dog who is the envy of the entire canine community.
But I think I would give all of my earthly possessions to have been in that doctor’s place at that press conference:
Reporter: “Why did you give him a mental acuity test in the first place? Were you worried about that?”
Doctor Me: “Thanks for that inane question, you dolt. Actually, he asked to be given that test.”
Reporter: “Is that because he is worried about his mental acuity?”
Me: “No. It’s because he knows that a bunch of you soul-less hacks have been smearing him as mentally unfit.”
Reporter: “So how did he do?”
Me: “He got a 30.”
Reporter (beside himself with glee): “30%?! That’s awful!”
Me: “Not 30%, you moron. 30 out of 30. Put your shoes back on, Acosta – that’s 100%.”
Reporter: “But this test doesn’t mean that he’s psychologically healthy, necessarily. It only measures acuity, right?”
Me: “You can’t even spell ‘acuity,’ can you?”
Reporter: “A – Q –”
Me (slapping my forehead): “Idiots.”
Reporter: “Hey! These are legitimate questions. The people have a right to know about their leaders’ health! We’re just doing our jobs!”
Me: “Like when you ignored Hillary Clinton’s bi-weekly near-death experiences during the campaign? She had to wear Coke-bottle Mr. Magoo glasses for a while to help prevent seizures, and you never mentioned it. She collapsed into the side of a limo like the sniper victim in Saving Private Ryan, and you ignored it.”
Reporter: “That wasn’t—”
Me: “During every other speech she went on a coughing jag like a chain-smoking octogenarian in a TB ward! Nancy Pelosi slurs her speech like Chelsea Handler on the last night of Mardi Gras, and Frederica Wilson’s hat collection is clear prima facie evidence that she’s clinically insane! And you’ve never asked any questions about any of them, have you?”
Me: “Shut up. We’ve administered that same mental acuity test to some of the congressional Democrats. Would you like to know how they scored?”
Reporter (in a wee, small voice): “no.”
Me (flourishing a print-out): “Chuck Schumer got half a point.” (looking over my glasses at the reporters) “You get one point for spelling your name correctly.”
Reporters: “I don’t think we—”
Me: “The rest of the Democrat leadership scores didn’t make any sense to us, so we consulted a variety of experts. Finally, a zoologist recognized that their calibrated scores were equivalent to those of several animal species.”
Reporters: “Oh, come on!”
Me: “According to these results, Elizabeth Warren has the mental acuity of a platypus. And not the brightest of the platypi, either. Fourth quintile platypus at best. The kind of platypus that – if platypi had developed a tiered university system – would be trying to get her gen ed requirements out of the way at a community college with the hope of transferring to a weak state school. Also, little known fact: the platypus is not a Native American species, even though the slower ones pretend that they are.” (We must never stop mocking Elizabeth Warren.)
Reporters: “We don’t see what this has to do with—”
Me: “Nancy Pelosi?” (pause for effect) “Third quintile racoon.” (uncomfortable murmuring in the room) “Dick Durbin?” (no one will meet my eyes) “Second quintile marmoset.”
Reporters: “What’s a—”
Me: “We had to re-test Frederica Wilson twice, before someone found a botanist who confirmed that she has the acuity of an unspecified deciduous tree.”
Reporters (after a long, shamed silence): “But still, what about Trump’s weight? That’s not good, is it?”
Me: “That’s it. Everybody line up. I’m going to give a Three Stooges’ style sequential face-slap to the whole rotten lot of you!”
So… my new year’s resolution is not going so well.