Welp, Twitter is already going after him. He’s already been called “irrelevant” by millennial nobodies who have blue checks just because they have a few articles on The Daily Beast. It’s only a matter of time before Tumblr starts this shit too. Better take my blood pressure medicine!
Screenshots of the butthurt will be coming tonight.
I woke up [the day after the presidential election] with a very pronounced case of moral clarity. In addition to the disappointment, it was like, oh, this does not change the things that I believe in. The things that I believe in that this candidate doesn’t means we’re going to have to fight for them. You don’t want to go backwards when it comes to our LGBT brothers and sisters; you don’t want to go backwards when it comes to the disenfranchisement of voters of color. We have to keep fighting for the things we believe in, and it just made that very clear: I know who I am, and I know what I’m going to fight for in the years to come.
For those who don’t know, the “reporter who nobody ever heard of” is David Cay Johnston, a Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative journalist. He is the former tax-policy reporter for The New York Times, and current Daily Beast columnist.
A visual history of The Daily Beast’s aversion to winning and obsession with “returning to the mainstream”
If there is anything more hilarious than the media’s reaction to the rise of trump, it’s probably corporate liberal media’s horror and convulsions over anything a stone’s throw left of middle of the road politics, even though it’s FUCKING EVIDENT it would be the path to victory.
Liberals, or at least the media that pretends to be left wing, loves talking big on social change, but begins imploding and screeching the moment someone arrives to actualize that change. Especially when that someone is coasting into the lead off the gust of voter power from, as in Corbyn’s case, UKIP and working class voters furious at the establishment.
The silver spoon suppository is truly that deep in establishment big tent corporate sympathizer arseholes.
Unlisted in the credits for the visceral production of Hamlet which opened tonight at New York’s Public Theater are the custodians who, after every performance, must clean up the sodden and muddy Anspacher stage after the movie star—and Public Theater alum—Oscar Isaac and his fellow actors have left the stage.
This is not a large space, it is not a large cast, and the most significant props are flowers, a table, and—later—all that soil and muck. The characters are dressed in modern garb, and there is even a very modern restroom where the characters periodically retreat to. Yes, that’s Polonius sitting on the toilet.
It’s not every production of Hamlet where you will see Ophelia make short work of a meal of lasagna, but here Gayle Rankin, a restless and stroppy Ophelia rather than a wispy and tragic one, ravenously piles in mouthfuls of the dish.
So no, this is not a classic Hamlet, but it is one you will not forget in a hurry. And if you’re in the front row, prepare to put your clothes in for dry cleaning.
Jordan Klepper from TDS at that Trump rally was something else.
*Klepper* “You aren’t even trying to hide the racism, are you?”
*Guy* “We’re at a Trump rally, bro!” (He knew he was on camera. He didn’t care.)
The nonsense continued throughout Thursday night and Friday morning. Matt K. Lewis, the Daily Beast writer and CNN personality, took note of the references to God in Trump’s statement on the airstrikes and salivated over the president’s moral seriousness. Even worse was Mark Landler’s “news analysis” in the New York Times on why Trump, who has shown a strong affinity for dictators and little concern for suffering, greenlit the attack. Failing to mention that the president was in the process of banning refugees from America, Landler painted a laughable picture of a man consumed with grief because of images of children dying. ("On Syria Attack, Trump’s Heart Came First,” the Times tweeted.) Not only does coverage like this badly distort an important issue like Syria, but it serves as a reminder (as if one were needed) of exactly the boost—not to mention the political capital—Trump would gain in the case of a national emergency or terrorist attack. As if a Trump with normal powers wasn’t horrifying enough.
Not content to merely lavish every inch of the IMAX screen with his perfect jawline and swoon-inducing puppy dog eyes, but also acquitting himself competently in a cast that includes Tom Hardy, Kenneth Branagh, Mark Rylance, and Cillian Murphy, Styles emerges every bit the movie star.