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Thursday, June 29, 2017

Anhedonia

Tired of all that winning yet, of waking up to yet another morning of Grampa Walnuts' morning-dump rage-tweet blocks? Welp, tough shit, Hopalong, because this is the way it is.

Without having any clue what specifically the Morning Blow crew did or said to set off Agent Orange this particular time, it bears noting that Joe 'n' Mika spent plenty of time building him up, sucking up to him. They played a role in helping him get to where he is.

In a short (barely) fiction piece I posted here a couple weeks before the election, I tried to get into this senile, incontinent bastard's orange leather, and get a sense of what passes for his inner life. And honestly, after listening to this fucking jackass bray his nonsense to a complicit and compliant media for my entire adult life, I'll be goddamned if I can detect anything resembling what normal people consider an inner life.

To take two infamous examples, George W. Bush and Dick Cheney, longtime readers here know that my loathing for those two is deep and boundless. They are the architects of what will likely turn out to be the beginning of the unraveling of the delicate (and to be somewhat fair, fatally flawed to begin with) power balance of the most volatile area of the planet. They are liars and frauds and moral cretins.

But Bush and Cheney conduct themselves more or less as human beings with regular motivations and inner lives. They love their wives and children, and that love is clearly reciprocated. They appear to read and listen to music, to engage with various and sundry cultural artifacts. They have largely shunned the spotlight since leaving office, thankfully.

I think you could say the same thing about, say, Chris Christie, whose gushing fanboy love for Bruce Springsteen is at once embarrassing to watch in a fifty-two-year-old man, but also charming. Few people will ever love anything with the genuine affection Christie has for Springsteen. Paul Ryan, John McCain, even Mike Pence all seem, once you look past differences of policy and opinion, to at least operate within, as P.J. O'Rourke memorably put it, normal parameters. They are absolutely wrong about everything, but they are wrong within normal parameters.

(Addison M. McConnell is notably left out of this group, because if there's a lower, scummier person in Washington right now than Emperor Snowflake, it's McConnell. He spent eight years sabotaging Obama's presidency, starting in a time of severe crisis, and culminating in stealing a Supreme Court seat outright. Yertle is a textbook example of someone putting party before country at every possible opportunity. The only joy to be found in any of that is that he has been every bit as dedicated to selling out his home state right along with the rest of us. Because fuck you Kentucky, for foisting this neo-confederate closet-case asshole on the country and keeping him in office. Enjoy your lack of health insurance.)

Anyway, I keep using the term "inner life" as it denotes the set of activities and thoughts and (yes) values that make us who we are, that form our worldview. The books we read, the music we listen to, the movies and teevee shows we engage and identify with through vivid narratives and strong characters -- ideally this should be an endless quest to experience creative things that make us happy. It's a reminder that, whether you are "spiritual" or "religious" or not, there are great works out there that are worth getting acquainted with, things that transcend ourselves as individuals, a grain of sand gradually accreting to a pearl.

Snowflake has always seemed to be the sort of person who cannot be made happy by such things, precisely because they are not about him, because he is literally unable to see or conceive of anything greater than himself. This is not snark; this is how he has always been. Despite his apparently inability to sleep, he is incredibly lazy when it comes to actually producing anything useful. And his malignant narcissism manifests itself in endless waves of greed and self-centeredness. These are his defining personality traits.

So when you're the sort of person who is lazy, greedy, and self-centered, it makes sense that your chosen path to make money is by grifting morons and lying about yourself to a degree that would embarrass Kim Il Sung. It also makes sense that when you surround yourself 24-7-365 with suck-ups and yes-men who do nothing but reinforce those lies to tell yourself, that that sort of sycophancy becomes one of the few things that makes you happy.

People are reluctant to psychoanalyze others from a distance, and not without good reason, but that is usually predicated on the idea that you can only know so much about a person based on what you see from that distance, through a small window of time.

But we've been watching this asshole for almost forty fucking years now, with fuck-up after failure after tax dodge after bankruptcy. He humiliated his ex-wives in the NY press with a few phone calls to the mendicant whores at the Post and Newsday. He ruined Atlantic City, hyping a junk-bond casino and then pushing the dog-shit debt he racked up into a paper bag and lighting it on fire on AC's front porch. He pushes little old ladies out of their homes to build bigger parking lots. He's stolen countless dollars from the taxpayers -- which everyone else then has to cover -- every single year he's ever been in "business."

All of this was years before he ever ran for office. There are no surprises here. He is exactly who he's always been -- deeply stupid, vicious, hypocritical, monstrous in his behavior toward women in particular. If he truly felt slighted by something specific that Morning Joe or Mika Brzezinski in particular said about him, all he had to do was bring that item up, say it's untrue, challenge them to provide substantiation.

But that would take actual work, and more importantly, it wouldn't be as much fun. This is the thing that brings him the most joy, more than using money to keep score, more than ripping off morons. The blue pills probably don't work as well as they used to; I'd bet serious cash that "humiliating" critics and opponents is one of the precious few things that gives him a tiny chub anymore. Not that he can do anything with it, and besides, even when he does bust a nut, these days it's just a slightly audible puff of cheeto dust.

It's all part of a pattern. The flip side to his annoying neediness for adulation is this mean, thin-skinned, vituperative side. It's the side that finds true joy in watching opponents grovel -- and even though they rarely do (again, aside from Chris Christie) actually grovel, because he lies to himself constantly, and because he really just needed his dad to give him a fucking hug, he tells himself they're groveling. But Hillary Clinton didn't grovel, nor did Rosie O'Donnell, nor Kristen Stewart. No one really gives half a fuck what you think, old man. For a man who was given everything, and still found a way to do absolutely nothing of value with it, who never cultivated any sort of inner life, it makes a warped sense that this would be his favorite thing.

HRH Fuckface Von Clownstick campaigned mostly on one unvarying theme:  Preznit Chocolate Hussein Thunder has turned Gawwd's Favrit Nayshun into a flaming hellscape, just for the sheer fun of it. By Clownstick's own logic, he should not have the time to keep engaging in this sort of nonsense, and yet it's all he does.

It should be worrisome even to his own supporters that Clownstick is so obsessed with these petty exercises in public humiliation. Because the thing is, sooner or later, his targets will actually grow a spine and stand up for themselves. Like all bullies, he's a gutless punk at heart, and the second one of his victims tells him to go fuck himself, or maybe reminds everyone that his wife has some dude on the side, he'll move on. Because again, that's who he's always been, a gutless little shit who talks big and never ever comes through.

I don't think I've ever even watched five minutes of Morning Joe, and I don't intend to start. I don't regard what they do as anything resembling journalism. Scarborough, while quick and intelligent, has always been a smarmy little shit, exactly the kind of guy that ends up fucking and marrying his married co-anchor. And I have no interest in defending Mika Brzezinski, and in fact think they need to do a little self-reflection about the sorts of people they have on their program, and how deferential they want to be to some of them.

They are everything that's wrong with "journalism" these days, in that they want to be taken seriously in their day jobs, but they also want to go to all the parties with the kewl kidz they're supposed to be covering objectively. And you can't do that. There should be an emoluments clause for anyone who wants to be thought of as an actual journalist.

But it's no less of a perfect textbook case of what sort of human being Emperor Snowflake really is. Not only is he awful, he's proud of it. This should be intolerable. Should I be compelled to live another fifty years on this overheated, overcrowded globe, I will never understand how so many people who should have known better chose to give a pass on basic rules of conduct to such an undeserving asshole.

Even the sort of mow-ron who spews that "he tells it like it is" nonsense has to see that Clownstick is (and again, has always been) the sort of person working-class people hate. He's the boss that busts you balls about cutting out five minutes early the other day to pick up your sick kid, even though you cut your lunch hour short the next day. He drives a new Beemer or Porsche every couple of years, while you're still driving your twenty-year-old Camry because he hasn't given you a raise since Fredo Arbusto was swinging his dick all over Fallujah. He's the neighbor that slips the HOA board a couple hundred bucks so he can put up a fence that obscures your view. His kid throws loud parties all night and tells you to fuck off when you finally call the cops at 3:30 AM. He checks out your wife's tits at every block party, and hits on as many wives as he can, figuring that for every twenty face-slaps, one of them will be drunk enough to give him a quick, sloppy blowjob in his three-car garage. Winning!

Depending on your gender, there are different reasons for knowing him, but whether you're a woman or a man, you know this fucking guy, and you hate him, because he's never not a fucking asshole. He hates women, because he doesn't understand them, and because he sees them only as working for him or fucking him. This should be clear by now, and again, it is incredibly baffling to see how he keeps getting so many breaks on so many things that used to be career killers.

It would make at least some sense to give him a pass if, by some miracle, he provided any value in exchange. If the Dow tops 30k and minimum wage jumps up to $20, and we're all millionaires, fine. It still wouldn't be easy to put up with his idiot shenanigans, but at least there's some sort of return.

But there's no such value added, obviously. The best thing you can say about this administration so far, seriously, is that they're simply too stupid to get anything done, and too arrogant to realize how stupid they are. It is past time to start holding these people -- and their constituents -- to the same standards their counterparts have always been held to. No more special rules for special people.

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