It never fails to crack me up. America’s “elite” media—mostly well-paid bridesmaids for the Democratic Party, with a smattering of conservative voices—get so ridiculously earnest (disingenuously or not) when a news event “breaks” on social media. And so it was with Joe Biden’s pardon of Carry On Wayward Son Hunter, which includes all offenses back to 2014, a nice flourish, last Sunday.
Almost immediately, the Pom-Pom Cheerleader of The Atlantic, David Frum, (the list of escapees from failing publications to that Bluesky-like colony is endless, but pimple-poppers like Jonathan Chait and Tom Nichols are now, in the wake of Trump’s election, as relevant as Keith Olbermann and don’t really count; although a scintilla more than the prisoners of the downscale New Republic) issued this message to fellow TDS casualties, mostly on professional life support: “Well that makes the work ahead a lot harder.”
The “work,” as always, is saving democracy, the Constitution and first-class airplane seats with no riff-raff intruding, never mind that the Nov. 5th presidential election appeared to most non-fevered voters as a ho-hum example of American democracy. I give Frum credit for posting this battle cry on Twitter: he hasn’t abandoned that platform because the “fight” is too important. On the other hand, unlike celebrity nuisances who are grieving so publicly about the “Orange Man” and have (temporarily) taken a hiatus from social media, Frum has to maintain his “brand” (and checking account), so that makes sense. Ready, Steady, Go, patriots!
My well of indignation over presidential pardons dried up after Bill Clinton freed fugitive Marc Rich (wanted for tax evasion, among other nasty dealings) on his last day in office, Jan. 20, 2001. At the time, The New York Times called it a “shocking abuse of presidential power.” In retrospect, the favor to Rich, whose ex-wife was a contributor to Clintons, Inc., likely made it politically impossible for Sen. Hillary Clinton to run in the 2004 Democratic presidential primaries, saving, at least for four years, the spectacle of that Frum-like shrew appearing on TV shows and advertising. Since then, I’ve regarded the pardon perk as part of The Show, just more politics-as-entertainment.
I don’t care that Biden let Hunter off the hook, although it’s curious he tripped that escape hatch on Dec. 1st, so early that it’s sporting to wonder who else is honored before Trump takes over (and immediately pardons all J6 participants). Can I make an online bet? Wander Franco! Max Boot’s wife! Fauci! John Cusack! It was comical to read last Monday, over and over, that Biden had “tarnished” his “legacy,” as if that wasn’t accomplished in the first year of his exceedingly strange presidency. Let’s be realistic: Biden’s a very old 82, in bad mental health (charitably), bitter that he was bludgeoned by Democratic “icons” like Barack Obama and Nancy Pelosi, and doesn’t give a fuck. Why not pardon his son? Not that it matters, but that’s what I’d do if I were (knock on wood) in the same shape as Sippy Cup.
I have no beef with Times columnist Bret Stephens—a less-belligerent Never Trumper than colleagues, and ghouls, Paul Krugman, Thomas Friedman and David French—but he also missed the big picture in his Dec. 2nd defenestration of Biden. He wrote: “If Democrats want to understand one of the reasons the Republican Party is ascendant, they can look to [Biden’s pardon]. In its rank mendacity, political hypocrisy, naked self-dealing and wretched example, it typifies so much of what so many Americans have come to detest what the MAGA world calls ‘the swamp’… What a degrading finale for Biden’s feeble, forgettable, frequently foolish presidency.” A defensible position, although I’ll note that Stephens—eschewing the honorable route by voting third-party—unenthusiastically supported Kamala Harris, someone he knew was a ridiculous candidate.
The photo here is a favorite: my four older brothers and me on a fall day in front of our Huntington, Long Island house. It don’t have shit to do with Joe Biden’s “I want to be in the news!” proclamation, but look at those smiles (save yours truly, lost in thought), likely similar to the one on Hunter’s face last weekend.
Take a look at the clues to figure out the year: Warner Bros. Records is founded; David Lean wins Best Director Oscar; the hula hoop, a predecessor to the frisbee, is introduced to the American public; Have Gun, Will Travel debuts on radio; Sharon Stone is born and Ronald Colman dies; François Truffaut begins filming The 400 Blows one day after the death of André Bazin; Billy Wilder works with Marilyn Monroe for the last time; James Agee is awarded the Fiction Pulitzer; Truman Capote’s Breakfast At Tiffany’s is published in Esquire; Ian Fleming’s Dr. No and Rex Stout’s Champagne for One are published; the Kingston Trio’s “Tom Dooley” is #28 on Billboard’s year-end chart, nosing out Chuck Berry’s “Sweet Little Sixteen”; and Cavan wins the Belmont Stakes.
—Follow Russ Smith on Twitter: @MUGGER2023
