The Left are a disassembled, scattered, uncertain lot. Humiliated at the polls by a resounding Trump victory, they are at sixes and sevens, an uneven consortium of climate activists, social justice reformers, blackness heroes, open door immigrationists, and MeToo enforcers, all bewildered at the rise of Donald Trump and shocked at the country's rejection of the progressive canon.
The principles of right action, say progressives, are endemic to American society and will eventually be recognized as such - foundational values more basic to the national character than those outdated, archaic ideas of raw individualism, laissez-faire capitalism, and Wild West euphoric expansionism of earlier days. Diversity, equity, inclusivity, and identity are more salient and essential to the modern secular American state than any so-called divinely inspired notions of Jefferson and his colleagues.
The time might not have been right for the full-bore, take-no-prisoners assault of the Left - but these principles are no less valid than they were before the election.
This is to miss the point entirely. The Trump victory was no less than an endorsement of Jeffersonian populism, a republic of individuals ordained to promote the commonweal and a rejection of state interventionism. The Left's agenda of woke reform, communitarianism, and geopolitical realignment is antithetical to this original vision of America; and Make America Great Again is a rallying cry not for wild, presumptive power, but a call for return to basic principles.
Because the point was missed, it is natural that the Left is grieving, saddened by what they see is the demise of polity and hopefulness, and an emotional and psychic loss.
The pomp, circumstance, and regalia of the incoming Trump cadres violates even more the progressive's personal, inner space. Every Las Vegas showgirl, every blonde beauty, every single white, straight tuxedoed male, and every rendition of the Star Spangled Banner and American the Beautiful rankles at a very intimate level. 'We have been violated'.
They are right. The Inauguration, the balls, the festivities are indeed a symbol of what is to come. America is through being talked down to, humiliated by talks of universal, systemic racism, badgered and banged for their homophobia and climate ignorance. Americans have had enough faux idealism, absurd sexual transformations, internationalism, and historical revisionism. America is a country of note, worthy of recognition and respect, not the dismal, socially deformed, ignorant place described by the Left.
In America image is everything. It is no surprise that Hollywood is its cultural center. Beauty, elegance, sex, machismo, and Cary Grant sophistication are all its priceless products. Advertising is the litany of American cultural populism. Not only do ads sell things, they convey the real foundational values of America - a middle-brow consuming culture of beautiful people doing beautiful things.
The Trump Inauguration pageantry is only the beginning. The White House will be Hollywood East, and will be an extravaganza of showy wealth, glitz, glamour, and prosperity. The morose, whiny, dour days are over. No more Bernal Heights tough girl flannel and E-boots, no more people-of-color jamborees, no more bashing, intimidating righteousness. The Trump phalanx is white, straight, religious, patriotic, and showy. Wealth is not excess but the product of enterprise. Tinsel, sequins, and pasties are not cheap frills but symbols of an American basicness that the Left never has and never will understand.
Donald Trump is a man of Hollywood, Las Vegas, and the bright lights of New York. He is one of us, more than any other President. George Bush affected a cowboy persona, Jimmy Carter a down-home farmer, Bill Clinton a black wannabe; but Trump has never acted a part. He is the genuine article - an ambitious, macho, crude, bar fighter; a lover of women, yachts, and mansions; a straight-shooter, an irrepressible braggadocio, a man of the people.
Progressives also have an image, one that has emerged from the rumpled suit, sensible shoes era of one-with-the-people solidarity to ghetto chic, a black-is-cool ensemble derivative of pimp and ho brazen fuck you strutting, tailored for K Street with a touch of genderness. '
We are the people', they shout with the enthusiasm of a circus tout, 'so come on in'; but that inclusive finery no longer cuts the mustard. The street gives way to the avenue - Rodeo Drive is the new icon, Anacostia and West Baltimore once again dismissed, ignored, and marginalized.
The Nation's capital will be alight once again. The glitterati are back, good times replace hard times, glitz and show are the memes of Pennsylvania Avenue, steak and martinis for lunch instead of oats and groats.
The revolution is not just political or philosophical, although both are at the heart of the changing of the guard. The new wave is more than anything cultural - a middle-brow populism, an unabashed wholesome crassness, a joy in beauty, wealth, and ambition. Fault-finding, generic unhappiness, and hapless reform, the unfortunate character of American liberalism is out, gone, finished.
The revulsion of liberals at the cavalcade of beautiful people is palpable. Not only has their cherished agenda been tossed out the window, but that they have to watch these airheads, these bimbos, these assholes and pricks come marching into our town is sickening.
'Get over it' is the new meme in town, the new DOGE broom sweeps clean, but this time it isn't just a broom but a jackhammer, ball and crane, bulldozer, and Cat - the whole place will be uprooted, rebuilt, and re-arranged. Even after just four years Washington will retain not one scintilla of the old Biden, whingeing, unhappy Left.
This is what insurrection means - not the cockamamie frat boy party of January 6th, but a true cultural makeover. Everything will be different, and the atmosphere of Washington itself will feel, look, and sound different.
The parade down Pennsylvania Avenue is just the beginning.
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