December 9, 2015--Political Stand-Up

The other night I was reading with Hardball turned on in the background.

Among Chris Matthew's guests was Eugene Robinson, Pulitzer Prize winning columnist for the Washington Post. They were trying to make sense of Donald TRUMP's call for a "pause" in allowing Muslims to enter the country until we can "figure out what the hell is going on."

Their point--as it was true for most media outlets and politicians from both parties--was that this was an outrageous example of ethnic profiling, impractical to implement, likely unconstitutional, and inconsistent with everything we stand for as Americans.

About 10 minutes into this discussion, MSNBC cut away to the World War II aircraft carrier Yorktown berthed in Charleston, SC, where Donald TRUMP was speaking before a large group of followers who had come together to hear him and take note of the 74th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor.

I looked up from my book. I had only seen and listened to TRUMP in snippets. The most liberal of the cable news networks was about to do something unusual--stay with him for awhile and let viewers come to their own conclusions about what he had to say. And they did so, allowing their coverage to run on and on for a full 45 minutes, uninterrupted for commentary and, more unexpectedly, for commercials.

This was TRUMP red in tooth and claw.

As it turned out, what struck me was not so much what he had to say but how. His performance, because performance it was.

I have listened to many campaign speeches, even gone in person to a number presidential candidates' rallies--all were versions of performances, but none compared to TRUMP's, which was more than anything else pure comedic entertainment. Political stand-up shtick.

First of all, if you close your eyes he sounds more like Mel Brooks than Ronald Reagan or Bill Clinton, both great stump performers. Also, take a look at him with his Zero Mostel hairdo.

Then there are the gestures, facial expressions, the mugging, the shrugs, the self-referential asides, the winks and nods, the bantering with individual audience members who called out or disrupted him. Like all practiced comedians he loves hecklers and has ready put-downs that serves both to silence them and rally those who are there to embrace and enjoy him.

He's not quite in Don Rickles' league when it comes to attack humor, but for a political operative he's pretty good and I found myself chuckling along with the audience. When putting down the MSNBC reporter covering the event he was at his biting, nasty best.

When scorching Chris Christie (who TRUMP claimed he was forced to do because of what the NJ governor said about his plans for traveling Muslims) he pretended to do so reluctantly.

In full shrug he said, "I have no choice. He's never attacked me before. So I have to do it." And he did with comedically savage strokes, pretending to be Christie at one of his daily breakfast meetings with his staff, improvising a dialogue among them about shutting down the George Washington Bridge for six hours. It was laugh-out-loud funny.

No, he resisted making fun of what the rotund Christie might have eaten at the breakfast. My guess is the next time he riffs about who my mother used to call Chris Crispy the breakfast menu will be up for grabs.

And then any time he referred to Jeb Bush he rested his head on his hands as if sleeping. Talking continuously about poor Jeb's lack of "energy" has served TRUMP well. He also never failed to mention use's dramatic descent in the polls. Jeb who was originally thought to be the inevitable nominee, largely as the result of TRUMP's relentless mockery, is now languishing with George Pataki in political Purgatory.

With about five minutes left in Hardball's time slot they cut back to Chris Matthews and Gene Robinson who looked as if they had aged ten years. They sat there as if stunned, uncharacteristically silent for at least half a dozen beats. They couldn't figure out how to respond, what to say. Perhaps it was also the first time for them that they had seen the full TRUMP spritz.

Between them they have nearly 100 years of experience covering politics. They exist and operate within a political paradigm where what candidates have to say about the issues is what counts. Their policy proposals and five-part programs to take on ISIS are what they're used to vetting and commenting on. But shtick about Christie at breakfast or how TRUMP makes fun of Jeb Bush are beyond Matthews' and Robinson's purview.

They aren't getting it. They aren't comfortable or familiar with what TRUMP is about and why he is doing so well in the polls.

It's not about policies stupid, it's about mobilizing anger and fear through political comedy and entertainment.

TRUMP is more like George Carlin and Bill Maher than Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, or Jeb Bush.

When I stopped chuckling and thought about the political content of TRUMP's performance, I was as horrified as Matthews and Robinson. What he is proposing to do about Muslims is abhorrent to me. Nothing less than unAmerican. But there I was being swept along. I reminded myself of something Geraldo Rivera of all people said many months ago--"Who would you rather watch for an hour--Jeb Bush or Donald TRUMP?"

The answer is obvious.

For many months I have been writing and warning about TRUMP's appeal. One of my liberal fiends thinks I have gone over to "the other side." Well, I haven't.

Another said, "You're spending too much time in Florida." Well, I haven't been.

I am not intending to vote for him. I am simply attempting to explain his appeal and, frankly, as a political junkie, enjoy his craft.

Most of my progressive friends explain TRUMP's appeal by claiming that "Americans are stupid."

It is not wise to be thus dismissive. The American people are who they are, who they've always been. In their stupidity they somehow managed to elect Abraham Lincoln and Franklin Roosevelt.

Unlike Matthews and Robinson we should try to figure out what is really going on out there in the country beyond the Beltway and in from both coasts. Smugly mocking our politics and TRUMP will help assure his election. We do so at our peril.

March 12, 2105--Remotes

Neil Postman, a good friend who died a few years ago, in 1984 wrote a prescient book about our current age--Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business.

Long before the proliferation of social media, which enable all of us to put ourselves on the air and potentially become famous (minimally among our "friends"), he spoke about the cultural impact of television. How with its almost universal availability, we could so turn ourselves over to amusements that, though it wasn't contributing to our literal death, it was having such a negative impact on our lives that by submitting ourselves to its lure we were participating in bringing about our own spiritual death. It would render us mindless.

I can only imagine what he would say about Tweets, Instagram, and such.

If you have been following me here, you know that though I share many of Neil's concerns I am attempting to understand this brave new world, looking for the positive things these media and new capabilities are bringing about. Doing this, I remind myself, as Neil once noted, that when the Gutenberg Revolution occurred, once books became widely available, traditionalists at the time decried this new power, feeling, as many again are, that it would destroy all that had been achieved during previous centuries when royal families and the Church held sway. And of course they were right. But as we look back on that powerful paradigm shift, we see things very differently. Most of that change was for the better--individuals became more powerful and as new ideas spread were able to fight to shrug off various forms of oppression.

But this is to be about television. Actually about the remote control, with little emphasis on the remote but with stress on the control.

When remotes first appeared in the mid-1950s, they led to a generation of couch potatoes. One could stretch out on the sofa, a bowl of nuts or pretzels balanced on one's chest, and change channels and adjust volume without having to drag oneself to the TV set.

A corollary benefit was that by switching from channel to channel (and there were at the time only three to ten depending on where you lived) one could get lucky and avoid seeing any ads. While I Love Lucy was taking a commercial break one could switch to Gunsmoke or Leave It to Beaver. All from a prone position.

Faced with this remote problem that empowered viewers to roam from program to program, since TV is more about making money than putting shows on the air, executives figured out a way to cooperate while competing for ratings--they agreed to air content and commercials in identical program blocks. So now when you switch around from Hardball on MSNBC when it is taking a break you find that so is OutFront on CNN and On the Record at Fox. There's nothing to watch except ads for Humira.

And as gender relations continue to evolve, when in the past men dominated the use of the remote, now more woman want equal access to it. One of our ongoing spats is about who get to control the remote control. When we're in bed together, Rona wants to catch the latest episode of Girls while I want to watch Al Jazeera America.

In the city we have just one TV so I am thinking that maybe what we need is two remotes. His and Hers.

When we get back to town I'll check with Time Warner to see what's possible. Maybe there is one designed especially for men (pretty much in the current masculine Freudian shape) while there's another, perhaps rounder, for women.