Yada…Yada…Yada…The No Learning Curve

Sometime during my youth in the colorful 1970s, a friend and I offered a running commentary on the classic black-and-white, must-see Popeye cartoons from the 1930s. “That couldn’t happen,” we would say and say again. In real life that is: Like Popeye confronting a raging bull with a spinach-powered punch, turning the menacing animal into a fully stocked, open-for-business meat market with Depression-era price markers. Those were the days, my friend, we thought they would never end—when hamburger meat was twelve cents a pound, geometry was race-neutral, and higher education was more Horse Feathers than horse manure. With all the conspiracy theories floating around—on the right and the left—I submit that running them through the Popeye calculation would be prudent before taking them to heart.

Moving right along to the It Could Happen Because It Did file: In every presidential election from 1984 to 2020, I cast my vote for either the Democrat nominee or the Republican nominee. This year, however, I couldn’t bring myself to pick the lesser of two evils—politically, not personally, speaking—because I couldn’t quite figure out who was who. So, I cast a write-in for a former presidential candidate—a decent, intelligent man whom I passed on in 2012.

Yada, yada, yada: Democracy was on the ballot this year. I had been told that ad nauseum by countless talking heads, including historian Michael Beschloss, whom I once held in high regard. But a couple of years ago, the guy warned us that the 2022 midterms could well be the last free elections we ever had. And, just last week, Beschloss speculated on MSNBC that Trump 2.0 might spell the end of independent publishing as we know it. A prerequisite for being a contributor to that network is making ludicrous and sensational prognostications, I guess. After all, host Rachel Maddow suggested that she—very possibly—was destined for an internment camp if You Know Who beat Democracy’s Defender.

So, let me get this straight, I only had one choice vis-à-vis saving democracy and that was to vote for a woman who never competed in a primary or caucus this year, renounced most of her past positions on issues, and made Sarah Palin appear like a nimble-on-her-feet, spellbinding orator. Granted, I know she ran a “flawless campaign” and wisely spent the billion dollars raised on her behalf. But in the good old days, I faithfully watched Hardball with Chris Matthews. Chris would begin each show with the call: “Let’s play hardball!” Kamala Harris’s chief problem was she hadn’t mastered softball, let alone hardball.

Columnist Jonah Goldberg wrote this week: “Don’t outsource your intellect, your principles, or conscience to one man or party. When you do that, you are making your partisan identity your actual identity.” Truer words have never been spoken in 2024. It’s sad that there are so many people willing to jettison relationships—family, friends, et al.—based solely on politics. As a window into our collective spleens, I give you exhibit A: Facebook. The social media platform has been a veritable killing field these past few months. I’ve witnessed demagoguery, sanctimonious elitism, and outright nastiness end relationships—some flimsy Facebook friendships, yes, but other more longstanding ones, I suspect. Worth it?

That said: I can fully appreciate why someone voted for Kamala for one reason and one reason only: She wasn’t Donald Trump. I contemplated that path myself. The latter, after all, would not have conceded the election had he lost fair and square like he did in 2020. Likewise, I can understand a vote for Trump that was—foremost—a repudiation of all that Kamala stood for—or did four years ago. Defund the police and other such nonsense. She also stood by her man. And I don’t mean the slap-happy one. I’m speaking of the addled geriatric and his policy trail, which included a porous border, runaway inflation, and a help-yourself-to-whatever-you-want retail crime wave. Sorry, but I blame the blameworthy for the mess we are in.

I fear, though, that the preponderance of the Democratic ruling and pundit classes are incapable of learning—just like Jerry, George, Elaine, and Kramer. They have already doubled down on the reasons they believe the party suffered a shellacking at the hands of an undisciplined, aged headbanger with more baggage than a bag lady’s purloined shopping cart. Let’s blame it on racism, sexism, and the folly of the uneducated. Yawn! And let’s sit around our cable TV roundtables and yell, literally cry, and whine to one another about the stupid, bigoted, uninformed voters more concerned about the off-the charts prices of eggs, bread, and butter than respecting a person’s chosen pronouns.

An aside here that underscores the moment: Whoopi Goldberg—no relation to Jonah—makes a reported $8 million a year and has a net worth of $60 million. On her show, The View, this week, she said: “Your pocketbook is bad, not because the Bidens did anything. Not because the economy is bad. Your grocery bills are what they are because the folks that own the groceries are pigs.” Thank you, economist Whoopi! And what with the "Bidens" plural? Can we compare salaries and net worth now: Whoopi versus the grocery store owners?

What will tomorrow bring? A bull in a China shop, perhaps? God only knows. I pray, though, that the normies are rewarded in the coming years and the crazies are sidelined. I’m not holding my breath on that one, but democracy will survive, come hell or high water, because of our Constitution and checks and balances. They are stronger than any one person—or president. And Rachel Maddow won’t land in any gruel-for-supper camp; Michael Beschloss will publish his next book without any interference; and the cast of The View will continue to say ignorant and moronic things. It’s the American way. Let freedom ring!