Why We Inherently Despise Kamala Harris
We do not dislike Kamala Harris. Rather, we despise her. But why?
Republicans obviously always have opposed liberal Democrat candidates opposing GOP standard bearers. Often, the opposition was quite strong. But very few of those Democrats generated a visceral emotion we can call “despising.” Look back three-quarters of a century, post FDR.
Most Republicans cannot fairly be described as having despised Harry Truman. Or Adlai Stevenson. Or John Kennedy. Or Lyndon Johnson. Hate? Maybe. But visceral despising? No. Nor Hubert Humphrey. Nor George McGovern. McGovern was more pathetic, not despicable in his gut. The man was a WWII air force fighter.
Jimmy Carter? That was disgust, not hate per se. Walter Mondale — pitiful. Michael Dukakis — pathetic. Bill Clinton — slick and slippery. Al Gore — loathsome. John Kerry — imperious, narcissistic, arrogant. Even Biden — simply beneath contempt.
But this past decade has presented the first time in a century or so that a Democrat opponent could be termed “despicable.” There were: (i) Obama (If you don’t adore him and worship him, you despise him.); (ii) Hillary, (whom no one adored or worshipped, but was impossible not to despise), and (iii) our present focus, Kamala Harris.
No fair Republican despises the likes of more worthy Democrat presidential contenders, whose views are anathema to true conservatives, like Sen. Mark Kelly of Arizona, Gov. Roy Cooper of North Carolina, outgoing Sen. Joe Manchin of West Virginia, or others of that ilk. But Harris, for those who do not worship her, leaves no middle ground other than to be deeply despised. But why?
Many of us were reared with certain values that we were told and still like to think are “American values.” They are as simplistic but powerful, captured by the meme associated with the 1950s episodic Superman TV show: Truth, Justice, and the American Way. No, we Americans are not perfect; no one is. On an individual basis, we all have encountered our share of jerks, American jerks. But we Americans have a certain pride, a certain sense that, yes, by golly, we are better. And, by golly, we are. We may not be as proper as the Downton Abbey / Upstairs, Downstairs British. We may have fewer centuries-old traditions than they have, ranging from the mace that may not be removed from Parliament to the George Washington wigs their attorneys, judges, and others of the upper crust wear. We may be more direct, frontal, perhaps even a bit more crude (e.g., failing to set our dinner tables with a fish fork). But we accept no second status when compared to our two-centuries-long close Albion ally (especially now that we have gotten over their burning down the White House, and they have made their peace that we not only grabbed the 13 colonies from them but even threw them out of the Oregon Territory).
As for all the others — the French, the Germans, etc. — the less said, the better. Lee Greenwood sang it best — and still does, G-d bless him: “I’m Proud to Be an American.”
And not only because that’s “where at least I know I’m free.” But because our society was built on bedrock principles, was capable of and successful in obliterating the horrific “peculiar institution” of slavery, and even saw at least 360,000 men give their lives to extinguish slavery. No reparations ever were paid to their families or descendants. It was an American value for which to give one’s life, as would happen 75 years later when fighting Hitler and the true Nazis.
We are a great country, a great people, to the degree that we are a “people” anymore, as we were as late as the 1980s and then briefly again after the Twin Towers fell. And, whether left or right, black or white, rich or poor, Christian or Jew, Northeastern or Dixie patriot, we taught our children certain somewhat uniquely American values: Work hard. Study hard. A penny saved is a penny earned. Another day, another dollar. In America, even someone from the most humble roots can access the American Dream. No royalty here. No institutionalized off-limits lineage. Anyone can be president, although the nature of the thing means that fewer than a dozen or so will make it out of hundreds of millions in a lifetime. But anyone will have a shot. Otherwise, you can become a union head or gainfully employed breadwinner, a doctor, a judge, an attorney, an Olympic athlete or professional in the sport big leagues, a successful entertainer, a publisher or editor or writer, a high-tech magnate, and so much else. Brooks and Dunn sang it well: In America we all get a chance; everybody gets to dance.
And that is why — in the half of the country that we, the non-Taylor Swift/Cardi B crowd, populate — we despise Kamala Harris.
There are societal rules of the game. The rules are rudimentary but foundational to our nation of equal opportunity and civilization constructed on an even playing field. Consider competitive sports: Before the baseball game, the umpires review the ground rules with the competing managers. Referees are on hand to ensure no cheating and to penalize even inadvertent perpetrators of infractions. Even the disappointed know that, if their team was “cheated” by a wrong referee call, the outrage emanated from the umpire’s incompetence, not the purposeful bending of rules defining the competition.
In America, too many politicians have been exposed over the years for sexual indiscretions and infidelity — even while they were in office, like Wilbur Mills, Wayne Hayes, Bill Clinton — all indelibly inscribed in our national consciousness: But it is hard to recall an American politician who literally slept his or her way into political prominence. That is the way of Eva Peron and a place like Argentina. It is not America.
In former generations, American political parties nominated their presidential candidates at the national conventions, with backroom bargaining and deal-making. As far back as Andrew Jackson and Henry Clay, there were allegations of “corrupt bargains.” It is probable that Samuel Tilden beat Rutherford B. Hayes in 1876 for the 19th presidency, not only in popular votes but also electoral votes, yet was cheated out of it. Over time, the system evolved into a primaries system. Each major party’s candidate comes to the convention with delegates won during the statewide contests. If he or she has accrued the majority present, the nomination is ensured. If not, the system still may result in old-fashioned horse trading, but among legitimately elected delegates.
Back in 2020, amid a large contest of Democrats vying for their party’s nomination, Kamala Harris competed. Rapidly, she burst into the lead with enormous early fundraising and an initial Trump-sized public rally. Yet, she fizzled quickly like a birthday balloon pricked with a pin. Harris essentially came in last, compelled by reality to drop out before the Iowa caucuses. She did not attract a single solitary delegate or even a voter. She disappeared, fair and square.
Soon after, the winner, Joe Biden, pulled a DEI variation on Nixon selecting Spiro Agnew in 1968: select the weakest, most detestable vice presidential candidate in the marketplace, thereby guaranteeing that Congress and the American people will not dare risk impeaching or ousting you afterward. It worked brilliantly for Nixon. Despite the Watergate scandal allegations, no one would risk removing him, lest Agnew become president. Therefore, the media and Democrats (same thing) first had to catch and destroy Agnew (who totally deserved it). Only when Agnew “nolo contendered” himself did the Democrats feel safe to force Nixon out next. And thus Kamala Harris: a DEI insurance policy for Biden to avoid impeachment, despite (i) his receding into the sunset even in 2020, and (ii) knowing that, sooner or later, the law would catch up with the Biden Crime Syndicate. Harris was — and remains — so unworthy that no one dared push for Biden to be brought to justice or subjected to the 25th Amendment.
Harris, who had slept her way into political view, suddenly slithered into the vice presidency without winning a single vote in the Democrat 2o20 primaries. And then the coup de grace — if not the just-plain coup — she next was anointed, as in dictatorships and medieval European monarchies, to be the Democrats’ official 2024 candidate for president without having contended in a fair and square competition as everyone else does. How not to despise?
There is more. Not only is she not worthy — but, remarkably, her handlers know she is not worthy or capable. Even more remarkably: she knows. Consider: You, the reader, are your party’s candidate for president. (Cool, huh?) It is weeks and weeks — more than seven, as of this writing, with the election soon approaching — and your handlers continue telling you: “No Press Conferences, honey! [or “buddy!”]” Honestly, if it were you running, what would you understand your advisors are saying to you? It is obvious: “We badly want you to win, so we all can get highly placed government jobs. But, the only way you can pull it off — pardon us for saying this — is if you shut your mouth for two more months. Just shut the [ ] up, Kamala. We will feed you words to read. Don’t ask us what they mean. Don’t tell us that you don’t believe in the policies we are giving you to read. Just shut up and read. And that is the only way you will get the highly coveted “Bubblehead Vote,” the last remaining body of ‘Undecideds.’ Shut up and read, and we’ll get you the reigning Queen of the Bubbleheads, Taylor Swift. She will tweet ‘Vote for Kamala’ to her 800 million billion trillion quadrillion followers, and those of them who can read will try to stay off drugs long enough to check the right box on their mail-in ballot (if they have not already lost it or rolled it up), and maybe also will sign the forms, and maybe even date them, and then hand them to the harvester.”
This is why we despise Harris. She slept her way in. She is a candidate who won no votes. There is so little time, from the night of her rapid coronation, to expose her record or who she is or what she is. She won’t expose herself to a press conference. Even for a simple interview, she needs Walz to sit near her at the table like a court-ordered officer accompanying a divorced abusive parent at a supervised monthly visitation.
This is not the way it is supposed to work. In a true democracy, candidates are supposed to vie fairly against competitors contending for votes. They are supposed to appear at press conferences and give unsupervised interviews with a range of quasi-fair interviewers. If they must cheat on spouses, egregious as that is, it is not the “American Way” to do as Evita Peron and sleep your way into power by finding a local Juan Peron, married and 30 years your elder, who has the keys to the palace. Name one other American presidential candidate whose political prominence began in the manner of Evita Duarte sleeping with Juan Person.
Please cry for me, America.
Her cackling laughter is staged, reminiscent of Hillary’s coaching. Her policies today are the opposite of the policies she advanced all her public life until a week ago. Her years in the Senate were rated to the left of Bernie Sanders. Her brazen denial that her dozens of flip-flops are exactly what they are reflects the same shamelessness, in pursuing power without principle, that she manifested when posing eagerly for media cameras in suggestive nighttime attire when she drank champagne with Willie Brown, while his wife had to see the photos next day in her newspaper. If Harris gets in, G-d forbid, such an American majority of qualified and invalid voters will get what they deserve.
Taylor Swift and the Hollywood and Wall Street crowds somehow will continue being able to afford three meals daily, private gyms and clubs, ample gas and electricity for seasonal home comfort, and will continue being able to afford whatever home mortgage rates unfold from Malibu to the Hamptons. Harris, though despicable and contemptuous, may cackle and slither her way to the top, G-d forbid. Taylor Swift’s fans on TikTok will find their dreams come true. And so will Kim Jung Un, Vladimir Putin, Xi of China, and the mullahs of Iran.
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