I’ve written (a little) and talked (a lot) about the
evolving vision I have for this blog. I like the idea of reaching people,
inspiring conversation. I don’t have a platform I’m peddling or a position I’m
defending or advancing. I like to think I’m an independent thinker and I believe
the world would be better if there were more of us.
And I tend to flinch away from the hot stove of partisan
politics, not because I am without opinion but rather because I believe my
words and thoughts will disappear in the ugliness of dissension and reach
precisely no one: Those who agree with me will gain nothing, and those who don’t
will stop reading. Lose-lose.
But today’s post veers directly into the oncoming headlights
of politics, not to take a side necessarily but to examine the interesting
phenomenon of communication and the different ways we move people in one
direction or another, push and pull, sometimes using shorthand of our own design.
Sorry, Mom. You might want to skip this one.
***
Some of you will remember I wrote about the psycho lady in Trader Joe’s (moment of silence for Trader Ming’s tempura vegetable bird’s
nests) who flipped out when asked to put on a mask. I wasn’t so much interested
in her reasoning, or any political significance thereof. I was mostly curious
as to her widely being referred to as “Karen.”
Since then my perception of “Karen” as a social media burn
has grown exponentially until today, when I think a new plateau was achieved.
Today I saw where Kayleigh McEnany, the Austin Powers FemBot who grew up to be
a White House press secretary, called Lori Lightfoot “the derelict mayor of
Chicago” on social media. Lightfoot, the first black, female, lesbian, duly
elected mayor of the nation’s third-largest city, responded in kind: “Hey,
Karen. Watch your mouth.”
Damn. Wait, am I allowed to say ‘damn?’ ‘Cause DAMN.
Where does one start? There is much to unpack here. First, you
shouldn’t kick dirt on someone’s shoes unless you’re prepared to get dirt on
yours. I think Kayleigh knows that and isn’t afraid of no mayors.
Second, again with the “Karen.” I’m kind of liking it now, I
have to admit. There’s a simplicity to it that speaks to me. And “Karen” is
just close enough to “Kayleigh,” which underscores the point even further. If
anything, Kayleigh is even more of a white suburban name, especially when she
dots the “i” with a little heart.
Third, have you seen Lori Lightfoot? And if you have, under
what circumstances would you think it’s OK to pick a fight with her? She’s
hands down the baddest bitch to come out of Chi-town since Al Capone. And I don’t
mean the real one, I mean the one played by Robert DeNiro in The
Untouchables, specifically the dinner scene where he talks about baseball.
All of this leads me to the story behind the story, which
is:
Back when he began his presidential bid, those who didn’t
believe Donald Trump could win were intrigued and maybe even a little impressed
by the cajones he displayed in trying
to run at all. He said he wanted to “drain the swamp,” and you often heard
people say things like, “He says the things everyone’s thinking but is too
scared, or too politically correct, to say.” And, apart from the times he talked
about grabbing women by their private parts, some of the things he said were a
little cool, just because they were SO un-presidential.
Hey, we didn’t think he would win. We thought he was something
between a character and a caricature, a snake oil salesman with a poorly hidden agenda
trying to monetize the election like he had monetized real estate,
reality television, casinos, and a half dozen other industries and endeavors.
Then he won, and to everyone’s amazement it turned out he wasn’t doing shtick
at all. That was really him, and he assumed full license to double down based
on his election victory.
What started out being brilliant strategy – win the election
by stepping far outside the bounds of the traditional and the presidential –
became progressively destructive as he refused to bow to any expectation
of traditional, any measure of presidential. Except now he was the actual president.
I feel like many Americans like the idea of boosting up the underdog, the new
guy, the one who breaks the glass and commands our attention. But we have
learned and are learning, the hard way, what happens when you pull the trigger
on an interesting premise and end up eating four years of what-the-fuck.
So now we’re coming up on crunch time and it doesn’t look
good for our hero: COVID is kicking our ass, and the economy’s in the toilet. The
tolerance for racial injustice, which has apparently existed in America since,
well, since America, has hit a nice, rolling boil just in time to spill out all
over the shoes of the only modern US president who could reasonably be called
the poster child for racism. It’s not a great time for an election if you’re
the incumbent. Maybe we could postpone the election? Hey it was just an idea!
If you’re Donald Trump there’s only one strategy. You can’t
reverse course, because you will lose what base you still have. You can’t
moderate because no one in the middle of the bell curve trusts you. It’s a
little funny, really. A Democratic operative formerly associated with the
Bernie Sanders campaign actually said the 2020 election is like sitting in
front of a plate of shit and being told you only have to eat half of it. Being
the whole-plate option in such an election must sting like a sum’bitch.
So there’s only one plan of attack, assuming you are still
planning to attack, and that is to poke at the most fundamental fears and
hot-buttons in your base – fan those time-honored flames – and, at the same
time, force your opponents’ hand: Make them reveal the little rough edges that
make moderate, well-intentioned whites cringe a little in the dark and hope for
the best.
So I’m Trump and I have Beltway Barbie out there talking
tough on my behalf. That’s adorable. It’s like having a toddler who says “fuck”
at Thanksgiving dinner: What are you going to do, hit her? And she goes after
Lori Lightfoot, who’s the real deal. A former prosecutor, an inner city badass,
someone who won Chicago because she is
Chicago. Not Oak Brook, mind you – Chicago.
Now in Philadelphia we instinctively get our Rocky on and
root for Her Honor the mayor. We love someone willing to step up to the blond
bimbo and say “go for it.” Remember Rocky IV? It’s literally the defining
moment of the whole movie! We live for that stuff.
But everywhere else, not so much. Like in the South, where such
women are not generally endorsed and the more acceptable deprecating remark
is a withering, “bless your heart.”
What’s the moral here? Well there are two, as I see it. One is
that Donald Trump has showed us every day since he was elected that he is
anything but a paper tiger. The methods he used to get elected are the methods
he uses to govern, no more, no less. What you see is what you get. This should
be a comfort in an era where we can’t trust politicians, or anyone else for
that matter, to be who they say or do what they say. But it’s not comforting at
all, not in the least.
And second, we need to acknowledge that it’s dinner time and
shit is on the menu. None of us want it, although most of us ordered it. We
need to man up, and start thinking about breakfast and tomorrow’s lunch and beyond. Start
thinking about a diet that’s going to be good for our shared body, even if it’s
uncomfortable and inconvenient in the short term.
Every few years I steel myself and try beets again, just because I trust that they are probably good for me. It hasn’t worked so far, but I remain committed.
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