Enough Wussing, White House Correspondents!

I listened to an interesting edition of The Rest Is Politics US on which Joe Scarborough sat in for the absent Anthony Scaramucci — who, after all he and I and all of us have been through, still can’t decide on how to pronounce “Iranian”. Joe and regular TRIP-US co-star Katty Kay marveled at how, at the recent White House Correspondents Dinner, the assembled journalists didn’t stand up when The Abomination began insulting them from the stage, show him their middle fingers, and walk out.

By the logic of people who defended the Los Angeles Dodgers for visiting The Abomination in the White House, the office deserves respect even if the infinitely ghastly person occupying it does not, and to walk out on The Abomination would be to diss the office. I think that’s nonsense, but I’m going to work with it. I believe that, either at the WHCD or at one of his Karoline Leavitt-overseen press conferences, when The Abomination insults someone, the assembled correspondents should go all NATO on his ass., as in to attack one, that is, is to attack all. Short of walking out, I think they should rise as one, turn their backs on The Abomination, and chat jovially among themselves. Imagine the president’s mortification.

Failing this, the correspondents might form a long conga line, and do the Bunny Hop

A couple of correspondents could have the backing track on their phones, or everybody could just sing. How could The Abomination resist the urge to join in? And if he doesn’t, and waddles furiously from the room, would it not be just too, too perfect if the correspondents broke into an a cappella version of the immortal 1969 Steam hit “Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye”?

Failing that, how about if dog-owning correspondents collected their fur babies’ indiscretions for a couple of days before the big dinner or press conference, and showered The Abomination with them when he insulted them. Try to convince me the rest of the world’s opinion of America wouldn’t soar. Just try.

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A closing thought. How about if those exemplary Christians sweet Karoline and House Speaker Johnson, in whose tiny mouth butter wouldn’t melt, were surgically attached to each other and lowered slowly into a large vat of medical waste?

Yes, yes, I know. I have in the past advocated that Sen. McConnell be drowned in a vat of dog shit. In my own defense, I will assert that a really great idea is timeless.