‘The FAKE MSM (mainstream media) is working so hard trying to get me not to use social media. They hate that I can get the honest and unfiltered message out.’ – Donald Trump, the Republican Party candidate in the 2024 US presidential election.
On the night of the first US presidential debate, I was eating hot dogs at a roller disco.
The roller rink was new, and it looked like Mars, and it felt nice to be off our planet, gliding in blissfully indifferent circles through possibly the highest-stakes, least inspiring election of our lifetime.
Now, I’m hooked. I’m waiting for podcast pundit bros to drop new episodes. I’m craving cable news, minus CNN, of course, because it’s too socialist for my taste.
My friends and I are talking politics at business gatherings for the first time in years, and it doesn’t make us want to die anymore.
With Joe Biden having finally decided to drop out of the race three weeks after the debate, and Kamala Harris stepping in as the Democratic candidate, I honestly think this is a good development.
I’m here to give you a vibe check from the great experiment of young America: we were all asleep at the wheel over here, and Biden’s public short-circuiting has officially shocked us back into the land of the living.
Ironically, Old Man Summer may have been the thing democracy needed. It woke us all up.
Back to that night, we skated until the texts rolled in:
“Biden is stammering and hopelessly senile,” said a Blackstone economist.
“Trump tells it like it is and the other guy shouldn’t handle a remote at Gina’s (China) party,” he added.
I checked in with my company chat group, known for being notorious apologists for Biden’s warning signs in recent years.
“Terrible,” said a hedge fund analyst.
“Whorerible,” said an investor relations executive.
“Horrific,” said the Commodities team.
“Painful,” added the Silver team.
“Joe, you’re fired!” chimed in the Gold team.
My wife and I, both expatriates, raced home to watch the rerun. I re-downloaded X, and for the first time in twelve years, it felt alive, much like Twitter used to.
I shouldn’t be tapped out. I’ve always ‘cared’ about politics. But I’m not alone in my indifference this year.
Turnout in the primaries was tragically low, with about 10 per cent of eligible voters voting, down from around 15 per cent in 2016 and 2020.
Online engagement with political news had decreased considerably compared with 2020, while sports and entertainment were up.
Things that should have woken us up didn’t.
When Donald Trump became a convicted felon, believe it or not, my analyst Carmen ran to the Manhattan courthouse — not for a story, but to gauge the vibes.
She confirmed that there were zero vibes.
The most excitement she could find were a few old progressives in pussy hats, yelling ‘guilty!’ for 34 times on a loop.
But the days after the debate were a thrill. I gossiped with colleagues and strangers alike:
“Who had to break it to Joe? Was it Jill?”
“Who’s next, Kamala? Gavin Newsom?”
“Ugh, not Gavin Newsom. Well, maybe Gavin Newsom.”
One morning, a Goldman Sachs director texted me:
“I went through a long list and I decided this is the man who can win: Sherrod Brown!!!”
It dawned on us that August’s Democratic convention will be the best reality show on television.
Despite my enthusiasm, this really isn’t fun. We are post-post-post despair. Our political disillusionment happened at warp speed, and now the infection is mutant and resistant to drugs.
In 2014, Beyoncé stood over a sign that said ‘Feminist’ and it was a radical act that helped depoliticise a polarising word. But just last year, someone gave me a pillow that said ‘feminist’ and it was kind of embarrassing, and I had to throw it away.
Those pussy hats Carmen saw outside the courthouse?
I shuddered, seeing those women on TV; an ick-inciting relic of a former time, when people so earnestly believed.
Outrage over what exactly?
The Supreme Court just gave American presidents the authority of a king. Let it burn.
But debate night exposed the Wizard of Oz. And it seemed to break some spell. We’d gone numb to what radio host Charlamagne tha God calls the dead language of politics.
But now, Democrats have a rare chance to reset. As my wife said to a surgeon who supports the Democratic at the hospital where she works; stop talking Greek and start talking like humans.
Trump, a billionaire with strong capitalist instincts, has been talking like a human this whole time, in a direct and unscripted manner, both publicly and privately.
When you look at his messaging, whether he’s lying or not, it’s plain and simple.
This style was evident shortly after the debate concluded. We were seated just a short distance away when Trump lashed out at an MSNBC reporter who had challenged him to explain the migrant family separations during his presidency.
“I know immigration is important to you; I covered the family separation crisis closely. Will we continue to see policies like separating 5,000 children deliberately from their parents?” the reporter pressed on.
“You mean the Obama administration?” Trump shot back.
“You know, they didn’t do that, sir. Will there be a second family separation policy?” the reporter replied.
“It’s M-S-D-N-C. So I expect nothing less from you. Clowns,” Trump retorted sarcastically, playing on the initials of the Democratic National Committee (DNC) to suggest bias in the media outlet.
“Even today, even 48 hours later, you couldn’t wait with your lies and with your nonsense. So just get outta here,” he added dismissively.
It’s all anyone is asking for, and surprising no one, it works.
Meanwhile, Biden had gone quasi-populist, raising two fingers to his haters and the liberal elites, ignoring the hard-to-swallow reality that everyday voters are worried, too.
It’s a selfish take, but at least it sounds honest.
When the president lost his words, he revealed a very human and dignified thing: that we all age, and plans can change, and that’s perfectly okay.
Strangely, seeing that lapse happen was a huge relief.
And since it’s still early and all historical precedents are now shattered, I’d love to see the Democrats loosen up.
Put on skates, eat a hot dog and show us they have flesh and blood.
Put in Gavin, or . . . sure, boss, Sherrod Brown whatever.
But be profane! Level with us! Trust the vibe! And for the love of country, speak a living language. For the first time in years, we’re all watching.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune.
