The old joke goes: Those who can’t do, teach, and those who can’t teach, teach gym.
Here’s an update to the joke:
Those who can’t do, become politicians. And those politicians who can’t do politics, try acting.
Marjorie Taylor Greene is one of the most melodramatic human beings on the planet, but her stage is Washington D.C. Will she ever get the chance to do Hamlet on the Senate floor? (Hamlet being the name of her husband’s dick, which at least one young girl has seen up close, apparently, long before Marjorie got a chance to name it.)
Well now Marjorie has had her chance to get in a cage with a terrible actor who is able to cry Rittenhouse tears on command. She’s on her knees looking up to the January 6th Insurrectionist in his jail cell, crying ‘cuz he got caught. He writes on the wall: Do I have a name? Why has everybody forgotten about me?
Poor guy. (Sorry, have to wipe off some tears.)
When your message is weak and rife with hypocrisy, you must resort to pantomime.
Theatres in Great Britain were once shut down (in Shakespeare’s time, no less! And to Shakespeare’s Globe, no less! Come on, Britain – ever heard of Freedom of Speech and Fake Crying?) because they were so dangerous, roiling up the emotions of the people, causing them to potentially do terrible things … like go to the theatre and wait through a ton of soliloquies until the story finally got to a goddamn sword fight! Polonius is behind the curtain!
Theatre can make you angry or happy or sad or fucking crazy enough to think politicians with no true stage need to get in the cage and bend her knees. (The cage is a nice touch. Stay there, Marjorie, get comfortable.) Stag instead of cage? They all hope, as the DOJ close in …
Theatre is powerful. (When theater is spelled like that, it is wrong!) We pay tons of money every year on theatre acted out on the big and little screens, and love to see street theatre when racist cops kill a man in the street in America, or just some random racist asshole in Italy kills a black man on the street without anyone stopping him. (Ah, the Roman Emperors smiled in their graves that day, surely. Caligula, Nero … you boys remembering the good old days?)
At CPAC, there is theatre. And a lot of bad actors. And fake tears (more bad acting), and standard bullshit from criminals who still haven’t realized that they’re all heading to the Big Cage soon … hopefully soon … please, Liz Cheney, hurry up before the craziest people in your party commit another act of theatre!
When does the Curtain fall?
