Conservatives Lament Not Liquidating the White Race

Last week was  blistering  for the Republicans. The withdrawal of Marco Rubio from the race for President means that the contest is now between a man whose face could curdle milk, a bowl of soggy Cheerios…and Him. The true horror of Trump is finally sinking in.

Actually, “sinking in” is too generous a term. Trump is now like Wilfred Brimley in The Thing, shoving his fingers through the soft tissue of the Republican Party’s face, making their flesh one with his.

This passing of the era of dignified politics has led to numerous finger-pointing dispatches from the Establishment, a sub-genus of the Republican party that didn’t even know it had a name until the Trump campaign turned its habitat into a brownfield.

For David Brooks, the Week the Music Died arrived with this revelation: there are economic classes apart from the one he inhabits! And guess what? They vote! David has promised to investigate this phenomenon further in the years to come, and will report on his findings in his upcoming book Bobos of the Apocalypse, which will be completed just before he is strapped to the hood of an armored Crown Victoria and driven across the desert at 80 miles per hour.

Politically ever-so incorrect conservative Ben Shapiro is now a #NeverTrump after parting ways with the hack news site Breitbart.com, for whom he has served as a writer and editor. Ben laments that the website—the creation of the late, fumigating Andrew Breitbart—has abandoned its mission of declaring anyone with a camera phone and a hatred for feminist theory majors a ”journalist”, and has instead become Donald Trump’s official fluffer. Breitbart’s response to Ben’s resignation? A Trump-worthy defamation.

Meanwhile, Right wing goblin Ben Stein is prepared to blame any future Trump triumphs on blacks (as he is prepared to do for almost any catastrophe short of an outright sharknado). Ben declares himself “terrified” of Trump, all the more so because, as he puts it, every Black Lives Matter protester who shows up at a Trump event puts a thousand more white bigots into Trump’s column. Still, Ben vows to continue to support his party against Hillary, who he still finds more frightening than Trump, a man who has boasted that he can simply order China to assassinate Kim Jong Un (perhaps by threatening to waterboard Bei Bei the panda).

Meanwhile, Trump gleefully grinds his boot into the face of any Beltway Menshevik who still defies him, George Will and Charles Krauthammer being favorite targets. And in the wake of the most recent primary results, Krauthammer, who blew the call repeatedly during the rise of Trump, has conceded the man’s dangerous unpredictability. Poor Chuck. A lifelong Reaganite, he can’t even sit by the old man’s grave to speak to him anymore, as Ronald Reagan’s spinning corpse has reportedly bored its way down to the kingdom of the Mole Men.

But the “Golden Load in the Pants” trophy for last week’s biggest shit fit clearly belongs to Kevin D. Williamson of National Review, who blasted the traitorous scum of conservatism as though he were imbued with Cyclops’ eye lasers. It’s truly must-read stuff.

In sticking it to the ersatz conservatives of the fruiting Trump movement, Williamson shows just how interchangeable the right’s enemies can be. For example, conservatives often accuse liberals of needing the tender grip of some Stalinist state to complete them, but Kevin finds that The Donald fits the bill for Republicans just as nicely as Uncle Joe does for Democrats.

It is easy to imagine a generation of young men being raised without fathers and looking out the window like a kid in an after-school special, waiting for Daddy to come home.

Many of them slip into harmless Clark Griswold–ism, trying to provide for their own children the ideal families they themselves never had. But some of them end up grown men still staring out that window, waiting for the father-führer figure they have spent their lives imagining, the protector and vindicator who will protect them, provide for them, and set things in order.

This vainglorious delusion about what makes a blue collar American tick is exactly the tone-deafness that David Brooks only just caught on to. Matt Taibbi diagnosed the same malady in a recent Rolling Stone piece.

What these tweedy Buckleyites at places like the Review don’t get is that most people don’t give a damn about “conservative principles.” Yes, millions of people responded to that rhetoric for years. But that wasn’t because of the principle itself, but because it was always coupled with the more effective politics of resentment: Big-government liberals are to blame for your problems…But the fact that lots of voters hated the Clintons, Sean Penn, the Dixie Chicks and whomever else, did not, ever, mean that they believed in the principle of Detroit carmakers being able to costlessly move American jobs overseas by the thousands.

This insight will continue to lay beyond the grasp of many conservatives. It certainly eludes Kevin, who goes on to rip the lungs out of working class whites in a spittle-flecked rant worthy of the one Hitler delivered in Downfall:

The problem isn’t that Americans cannot sustain families, but that they do not wish to…The white middle class may like the idea of Trump as a giant pulsing humanoid middle finger held up in the face of the Cathedral, they may sing hymns to Trump the destroyer and whisper darkly about “globalists” and — odious, stupid term — “the Establishment,” but nobody did this to them. They failed themselves…the economic changes of the past few decades do very little to explain the dysfunction and negligence — and the incomprehensible malice — of poor white America….The truth about these dysfunctional, downscale communities is that they deserve to die.

By the end of Williamson’s ejaculation there are only two things left for him to do: marry Eva Braun and blow his brains out. Given his snobbery, I dearly hope he avails himself of the latter.

The collected greying temples at National Review, The American Spectator, The Weekly Standard, et al., are being rubbed raw these days as the smartest minds of the Op-Ed page try to figure out which part of their governing equation didn’t account for Trump. Perhaps, no…did we fail to correctly balance the stagnation of wages and lead in the drinking water with enough cheap flat screen TVs?

Little did they realize that one day a billionaire jack-o’-lantern would break ranks and reveal the Establishment’s dirty little secret to the Republican base: their party also, not just the “Demoncrats”, were the ones who sent the choicest grunt work over to China (or, as the pumpkin king himself says it, to “CHY-NAH!”).

For eight years the Republican party put all their chips on doing nothing but holding the nation hostage after America’s first black president arrived two centuries ahead of schedule. They are just now discovering that even white Republicans expect to escape their thirties with a job that doesn’t involve piloting a cash register.