Worse is always possible in this administration. But Sanders set a benchmark for awfulness that was a thing to behold. It wasn’t simply that she spun the news or shaded the truth, which many people in her position have been known to do. It wasn’t even that she lied, though she did that with abandon.
It was that sneer of hers, the consciously curled lip, which seemed practiced before a mirror, that communicated bottomless contempt for individual journalists, for the profession of journalism itself and for the very idea of truth-as-such. She combined the sincerity of Elmer Gantry with the moral outlook of Raskolnikov.
Bret Stephens, New York Times
Well said. Sanders’ casual and routine dishonesty exemplifies the reason that journalism is important and we should all be grateful for the First Amendment. Her departure from the White House leaves it a (modestly) cleaner and better place.
I guess I’ve mentioned in the past that the Trump base is a cult, but it never hurts to refresh the evidence.
“He’s just for our freedom,” the first subject — a woman in hot pink-themed attire — said. “We don’t want socialistic policies. We want to be free.”
“Any disappointments or frustrations?” Alba asked the woman.
“No. None at all,” she replied. “Not at all, I hope we have the next four with him, and then after that, I hope his son runs.”
“He’s done an excellent job,” said another woman, who wore a pink “Trump 2020” hat and a “Proud Member of the Basket of Deplorables” t-shirt.
“Excellent. You guys need to back off, leave him alone. It’s true,” she added.
“What’s the main reason you’ll vote for him again?” Alba asked.
The woman replied that Trump is “one of the best presidents that we’ve had for a very long time,” and then said, “He doesn’t lie.”
After a pause so the actual universe could spit its drink, the woman added, “I know y’all say he does, he doesn’t.”
Trump supporters live in their own private fantasyland where they are as unaffected by reality as the average Southern Baptist. You cannot reason with them; they have to be defeated and pushed aside.
Death steals everything but our stories.
I became acquainted with the writing of Jim Harrison only recently, and I both regret and wonder why I didn’t know of him years ago. After all, he’s from Michigan and lived for years in the western Upper Peninsula.
If you’re interrogating your memory and trying to place the name, or think of a title, try this: Legends of the Fall.
It’s a wonderful line that briefly explains a lot. Essays date themselves; only philosophy undergrads can tell you where the line “I think, therefore I am” came from or why it’s important. But stories last forever, and their explanatory power is constantly refreshed; Gilgamesh — the oldest extant Western text, from about 2700 B.C. — is still around, and Ken Ham has built a theme park based on it.
What is more, the unhappy truth is that the majority of people guide their lives by stories. The Genesis story of the Fall is crazy, but simpletons find it, and incoherent anxieties about dark, mysterious forces, a lot more convincing than boring facts about physics and probability. Stories last.
Never forget: Y’all are no damn good.
I am not kidding y’all: Trump is a corrupt madman, and he has no intention of leaving the White House except in a box.