Under the Black Flag


It had the same effect on them that a man sitting in a front-row seat and banging a gong has on the lead flutist in a Mozart concert.  “Them,” needless to say, are the “elites,” a poor description if ever there was one of the rabble that is Hollywood types, engaged ladies who lunch, cheap celebrities, media persons, reality stars, postmodern professors, Davos people, LGBT activists, women of color in general, and women of color with more than ten children by different fathers in particular.

Yes, dear readers, the reaction by our “elites” to the election of Donald Trump has been extraordinary.  By comparison, an Italian mob—whose team was denied a penalty as the final whistle blew—were quite serene and sportsmanlike.  (They nevertheless set fire to the stadium and tried to murder the referee.)  I have witnessed less emotion and seen fewer tears in Cairo after Egypt’s favorite strongman Nasser dropped dead of a heart attack.  (At least a hundred people committed suicide.)  Finally, there was less anger by a Mexican father 55 years ago when I ran off with his daughter while her rich fiancé waited for her in vain back in Paris.  (He nevertheless attacked me, ignoring the fact that both of my legs were in plaster after a skiing accident.)

The sanctimonious and mendacious New York Times, a newspaper that puts Pravda...

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