A mental health assessment of
the Democratic Party suggests that identity politics had lately turned into an
identity crisis. Years of staying woke finally produced
hallucinations and violent outbursts. It was time to medicate the patient.
Enter, stage right, the Tranquilizer, smiling Uncle Joe Biden, the perfect
agent to quell an acute case of adolescent rebellion.
Mostly, the rank-and-file
don’t seem to know what to make of Uncle Joe’s arrival on the scene. It’s as if
they popped .5 milligrams of Xanax a half an hour ago and all the
intersectional strife that seemed so urgent last month just up and flew out of
the room, like so many leaf-nosed bats from a frightful cave of winds. The
chemical rush Uncle Joe provides is reflected in his impressive polling
numbers, lately cresting near 40 percent against his closest pursuer, Bernie
Sanders — the reincarnation of my 10th grade math teacher, and hence a
figure of horror and loathing — at about 18 percent in the polls. The rest of
the presidential pack just slogs down-low through the sucking muck of single
digits. Many of these are women candidates in a party determined to produce the
first president of the female persuasion. What’s up with that?
The salient psychodramatic
feature of the Democrats’ relationship with Mr. Trump is that he
represents Daddy’s in da house, a situation so alarming as to provoke a
nearly three-year-long fugue of patricidal fury among his detractors. In fact,
he’s an order of magnitude worse than Daddy… he’s more like Ole Massa…
living in that big White House… lumbering out the south portico in that
terrible capitalist business suit… the very cutting edge of
oppression and misogyny. Of the Democratic women running for president, so far
only Elizabeth Warren has gone after Mr. Trump with any real passion — and
then, like some stereotypical housewife trying to brain him with a frying pan.
It just bounces off his thick skull, and he moves on.
I call Mr. Trump the Golden
Golem of Greatness for a reason (several really) but mainly for his seemingly
implacable demeanor. He’s exactly like that folkloric figure from the mists
beyond the Pale of Settlement, an animate hunk of impassive clay communing with
spirits of the dead, blundering blindly about the land, scaring little children
and turning the peasants’ blood to ice-water. You might even say he was
conjured up by the very deacons of Wokesterism who now tremble at his every
thundering footstep.
Uncle Joe Biden is surely the
antidote to all that. He served eight years under the Wokester Deacon-in-Chief,
Mr. Obama, and cheerfully endured his ritual castration, rendering him harmless
to all who must-be-believed, and other sub-categories of the aggrieved and
oppressed. At 76, he is way older than anyone (anyone serious, that is) who
ever ran for President before, perhaps bordering even on feeble, and that’s
another plus: he couldn’t hurt a fly. At least not here in the States. He has
no plans, apparently, to try to make America great again — but he still has a
hearty appetite for international adventuring that might redound to the benefit
of the US War industry and its handmaidens on K Street and Capitol Hill.
And, of course, Uncle Joe goes
through these palliative motions of bringing tranquility to the Democratic
scramble, his smile fixed, teeth gleaming, hair perfect, hand a’pumping, as
ever more information emerges about the spectacular effrontery of his international
money-grubbing while vice-president. He did what in Ukraine in 2014?
And Uncle Joe’s son, Hunter, walked away with how many millions of dollars
after being appointed to the board of Ukrainian gas company Burisma Holdings?
Uncle Joe even bragged to the
Council on Foreign Relations about how he browbeat Ukrainian President Petro
Poroshenko into firing their equivalent of Attorney General, who was about to
look into this fishy Burisma deal. And then there was the even bigger windfall
after Uncle Joe paid a call on China and Hunter’s shadowy company, Rosemont
Seneca, landed a billion dollar private equity deal (whatever that means)
from an equally shadowy company fronting for the Chinese government.
All of which means that Uncle
Joe Biden’s career as the Democratic tranquilizer may have about the half-life
of that Xanax tablet. The four pillars of the legacy media — The New York
Times, The WashPo, CNN, and NBC — don’t want to touch these stories,
but they are already out there, and nobody can stuff them back under the
carpet, not even the mighty censors of Twitter and Facebook.
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