And the criminal indifference: Today, we interrupt the real world to bring you news of your "press corps."
Also, we continue our anthropological studies. Putting Aristotle's dreams to the side, what sort of creature is Homo sapiens?
What are we humans actually like? The news there isn't good.
At this site, we've been speaking all week about some of the people we have to waste. At the same time, our "press corps" has lost itself in dreams about sex with Stormy. It's as we told you long ago:
Once you give them permission to talk about sex, they'll end up discussing nothing else.
"Man [sic] is the rational animal?" Aristotle, please! In the end, we humans are the animal that wants to live in other people's underwear drawers. We want to chase people around about sex. In the end, we want nothing else.
Your lizard is saying this can't be true. You lizard is claiming that the press corps' work this week has been highly principled and extremely important.
Silly children and peeping toms, please! To place our critique on the highest level, consider this presentation by Kevin Drum, the country's least crazy journalist:
DRUM (5/3/18): Today is beyond nuts. The president’s lawyer has admitted that the president paid off a porn star to keep her quiet during the campaign and has been lying about it ever since. He also admitted that the president fired the FBI director because he had refused to publicly state that the president wasn’t under investigation. He also thinks that pretty much everyone in the Justice Department should be fired in order to bring the current investigation of the president to a halt. And they should probably all be investigated themselves. Oh, and we also learned that the president’s bagman/fixer has been under a wiretap for at least the past several weeks, which might explain some of the panic emanating from the White House. [UPDATE: It was a pen register, not a wiretap. In other words, just a record of incoming and outgoing calls, not recordings of conversations.]Drum is the least crazy journalist/blogger around. Ignore the error he made in his excitement and haste. That highlighted passage from his own post takes us close to the border of the realm he has called "beyond nuts."
Why do we say that? Here's why:
Duh! Of course the politician in question paid the porn star to shut up. Beyond that, of course the politician in question has chosen not to reveal this fact.
Consider some recent history:
In the 1990s, the shoe was on the other foot. The press corps was chasing Bill Clinton around about ten acts of oral sex with a 24-year-old federal employee who they insisted on describing as a 21-year-old intern.
It wasn't just that he had engaged in oral sex—he'd also been lying about it! (Or at least conveying a false impression.)
Back then, the press corps was living in Clinton's underwear drawer. Today, they've crawled into Trump's, and that has made all the difference:
Back then, many liberals were able to offer an obvious observation. Of course people don't rush out to reveal their extramarital affairs. This may be the world's most obvious fact. Who doesn't understand this?
Back then, it was Clinton who had engaged in extramarital sex. In this case, it's Donald J. Trump who has allegedly done so.
Back then, many liberals were able to note the obvious fact that people don't rush out to reveal such behavior. Today, our entire journalistic enterprise is built around a state of shock at the news that Donald J. Trump may have done the same thing.
We say "allegedly" in the current case for an obvious reason. Here it is:
No one knows if Donald J. Trump had sex on one occasion, in 2006, with Stephanie Clifford.
Stephanie Clifford says he did; Donald J. Trump says he didn't. Since these are two of the slimiest, least reliable people in the known world, we don't know why anyone feels certain about whose account is accurate.
Did Donald J. Trump f*ck Stephanie Clifford on one occasion twelve years ago? Astoundingly, this is the only topic being discussed in "cable news" at this point.
Anyone with an ounce of sense can see that this just doesn't matter. But Lawrence and Brian and Chris and Anderson, accompanied by a cast of thousands, are now discussing virtually nothing else.
It's all they actually want to discuss; for that reason, they invent excuses for doing so. One such excuse involves the great dream—the dream that Donald J. Trump will be taken down by a "campaign finance" offense.
This dream is so stupid it squeaks. Occasionally, a legal expert notes this point. Everyone else just ignores it. (In the end, it's also a prescription for civil wat.)
The dream exists 1) because our journalists want to discuss The Sex, and 2) because the liberal world can't succeed at politics and therefore has to dream about getting The Others locked up. This is the point to which we've descended in our pursuit of The Sex.
Did Donald J. Trump have sex with Clifford on that one occasion? We have no way of knowing. We do know what Clifford, our "feminist hero," has done over several summers:
In 2006, she went to Trump's hotel room where she says they had sex. She knew he had a new-born child, but so what? She f*cked him anyway. In The Dumbest Story Ever Told, she has said she felt she had to f*ck the guy as a type of courtesy deal.
Rather plainly, Clifford did whatever she did that night in the hope of gaining career advancement through Trump's TV show, The Apprentice. By 2011, Clifford has said, that possibility had died. As a result, she did what any slimeball would do:
She began trying to sell her seamy story for cash.
Clifford says she abandoned that attempt after she was threatened. It's possible that she actually was. Obviously, it's also possible that she's just making this up, helped along by the world's most plainly reptilian lawyer.
(We don't believe in Beelzebub. If we did, we'd feel pretty sure that Beelzebub had to be him, although we might be slightly puzzled by the lack of attempts at disguise.)
At any rate, Clifford wasn't so scared by this alleged threat that she didn't start trying to sell her slimy story again in 2016. Trump was now running for president. Presumably, this suggested to Clifford that the cash value her dirt had probably gone up.
She tried to sell her story to Jacob Weisberg at Slate, but Homey don't play it that way. As a result, she sold her story to Michael Cohen for $130,000. Could it possibly be any more obvious that Clifford's a hustler/slimeball?
Because we liberals are hopeless and sad, we've been willing to buy the silly claim that Clifford "just wanted to tell her story," and that she has therefore been "silenced."
Duh. She always could have told her story. Here's the problem—she didn't want to tell her story; she wanted to sell her story. Finally, she did just that, for 130 large.
Because we liberals are hopeless and sad, we've accepted another story. We've accepted Clifford's ridiculous story about why she had sex with Donald J. Trump in the first place.
Telling the truth would have been unseemly, so she told her stupid story to Anderson Cooper, one of the guild's most talented stooges. (He was a stooge for Donald J. Trump during the last campaign.) The story she told was absurd on its face. But desperate for ardent tribal glory, we swallowed every drop.
Did Trump have sex with Stephanie Clifford on one occasion twelve years ago? No sane person could actually think that this actually matters.
Meanwhile, in our tribal dumbness, we're unable to feel anger at Clifford for the worst thing she's done—for the way, Putin-like, she tried to interfere with our last election.
Gennifer Flowers did the same thing in 1992, peddling a bunch of exciting claims which were almost surely false. Sixteen years later, along came Clifford. In her search for that pile of cash, she tried to do the same thing.
Sensible people should be glad that she was "silenced" before the election. (She always could have told her story, but she wanted cash.) Indeed, sensible people should join us in proposing creation of a federal fund to silence all such hustlers during election years.
Instead, we liberals, silly and sad, are acting like Clifford and her reptilian lawyers are heroes of our "resistance."
One final ridiculous question:
Our journalists love to ask it! If Donald didn't f*ck Stephanie Clifford, then why did she get all that cash?
Duh. When people come forward with thrilling sex claims during an election campaign, it doesn't matter if the claims are true or false. The claims will get bruited all around either way.
Quoting Twain, sex claims go halfway around the world before sanity can get its pants back on. We don't know if Clifford's claim is true, but the truth doesn't hugely matter at a time like that.
Back in 1992, Flowers was making thrilling claims which were almost surely false. That didn't make any difference. Clowns began to bruit them around in ways which could have changed world history. Luckily, we had much less "cable news" at that time, and virtually no Internet.
(We did have Howard Stern and his idiot sidekicks. They pimped and partied and played.)
Here at this site, we're glad that Cohen paid Stephanie Clifford to please just shut the f*ck up! She's now crawling around with her lawyer trying to score an even larger bag of cash. Because our "journalists" are now allowed to talk about Sex, they are discussing nothing else, just as we told you they would.
Aristotle said they were "rational animals," but Aristotle was wrong. In the end, they want to live in the underwear drawer, and that's the only thing they want. Even Drum was briefly caught in the undertow when he made the highlighted statements. And he's our sanest journalist!
All week long, and last week too, we've been talking about millions of American kids who get a bad break growing up. Those children don't count within our mainstream or liberal news orgs, and they never have.
They stand at the wrong end of some very large gaps. Lawrence and Brian and Rachel and Chris are getting wealthy on cable TV—and they're criminally indifferent to those children's plight.
In the process, we get mightily entertained and told we've formed a resistance.
"Buffalo Bill's defunct," Cummings said. Anthropologically speaking, so is Homo sapiens. Just turn on your TV machine any weekday night!
For extra credit only: From watching the excited chatter on cable news, did you understand what Drum said? Did you know that "it was a pen register, not a wiretap?"
People, we're just asking! But it's all about the excitement now. It's excitement all the way down.