Ranting isn’t enough. Neither is reason nor wit. We need more. We need vision. We need fury. We need the Anti-Trump. While the comedians do try – Bee, Colbert, Oliver, Noah – they always fail in looking for a laugh, such as Trevor Noah’s recent quip to alt-right spinster Tomi Lahren’s stating, “I don’t see color”: What do you do at a traffic light?
Elizabeth Warren is on the right track: Trump is not draining the swamp, nope. He’s inviting the biggest, ugliest swamp monsters in the front door, and he’s turning them loose on our government and our economy.But her rhetoric is too measured, too precise. The Anti-Trump must stare into the hateful void to find the words to break the spell.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie seems to have the right stuff: The election of Donald Trump has flattened the poetry in America’s founding philosophy: the country born from an idea of freedom is to be governed by an unstable, stubbornly uninformed, authoritarian demagogue. Now is the time to confront the weak core at the heart of America’s addiction to optimism; it allows too little room for resilience, and too much for fragility. Now is not the time to tiptoe around historical references. Recalling Nazism is not extreme; it is the astute response of those who know that history gives both context and warning. (The New Yorker Magazine, Nov.30/16)
We live in hyperbolic times, everything an absolute and most.
One radio commentator went so far as to call The Winter Classic “the greatest event ever played on the greatest continent.” As ridiculous as his statement may be, hype is our norm. Winter weather, once described as “cold” or “snowy”, has been transformed into drama verging cataclysm. Where were you during Winter Storm Hercules? How did you survive the Great Polar Vortex of 2014? And what will you do to get through the next step towards our end?
I already knew that Mike Myers’ $60 million vanity project The Love Guru was bad, but having stumbled upon it on late-night cable, I forced myself to watch, because it features the Toronto Maple Leafs. There’s nothing good to note – despite cameos by John Oliver, Daniel Tosh and Stephen Colbert – except that it’s over in 87 minutes.The film came under attack for its boorish treatment of Hinduism, and while this is certainly true, it’s Myers’ parody of hockey that is most pathetic. Players assaulting coaches, elephants having sex on the ice and a penalty shot with one second to play that decides the Stanley Cup are just some of the insidious details that reduce the game to Myers’ poo-poo and pee-pee one-liners. Not that this really should matter, especially in light of the Mighty Ducks trilogy. The difference here is that the Disney Corporation never pretended to know anything about hockey, while Mike Myers is not only Canadian but also considers himself a die-hard fan. Fair restitution for this abomination would be a life-long ban for Myers if not from Canada than at least from attending games at the Air Canada Centre. Or he could at least pay the buy-out on Mike Komisarek.