Meet the New Boss — Same as the Old Boss

Years ago, probably before most of you were born, The Who sang:

There’s nothing in the streets

Looks any different to me

And the slogans are replaced, by-the-bye

And the parting on the left

Are now parting on the right

And the beards have all grown longer overnight

I’ll tip my hat to the new constitution

Take a bow for the new revolution

Smile and grin at the change all around

Pick up my guitar and play Just like yesterday

Then I’ll get on my knees and pray

We don’t get fooled again

Don’t get fooled again

No, no

Yeah!

Meet the new boss Same as the old boss

Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss. Well, the old bosses have indeed been replaced by new ones. But the new ones are offering the same sick offal that the Left has been peddling for years. It just has better packaging. And they aren’t hiding anything this time around.

I was a cradle Lefty. I was born in the late ’60s and entered my majority in the ’80s. And I was a loyal Leftist for a long time. I even had a subscription to The Nation, believe it or not. Because of that, progressive antics tend to infuriate, sicken, and depress me more than they might do to your average conservative. Mainly because I can see that what was sold to me is not what was delivered. As it turned out, all of those times I listened to Free to Be You and Me on my parents’ turntable were either indoctrination sessions into a philosophy that would never work or, well, lies.

When you are a recovering Leftist, there remains a part of you that, for a while, hopes that those on the Left will eventually remove their heads from their posterior orifices and steer us away from the cliff. Eventually, that part of you dies, but you still feel robbed. And one day, you realize who makes up the people on the Left: social climbers, would-be one-percenters, and people who are hoping for the top condo in Aspen with a view of the slopes and plenty of distance from the proletariat. Of course, for one group to be superior, there must be an inferior group. And for that, we need look no further than 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

(Note, these videos were taken from Rumble, not YouTube, to try to support alternative media. Don’t blame me if someone tried to pitch you a plan to fix toenail fungus or a stuffed colon, or tried to tell you that you could lose weight by drinking water at night. The ads come with the territory.)

Many have derided KJP as being so dense that light bends around her. One conservative website refers to her as “White House Spoxidiot.” And it is true, to quote myself from a previous column, that she can barely string together a simple sentence without needing to file an insurance claim. But I do not think she is as clueless as many think she is. I think she is entitled, arrogant, and flush with power.

It is not so much that she cannot give the White House press corps an answer; she just does not think she needs to do so. She knows as well as anyone that the murders in Nashville were hate crimes. But in this case, none of the people her side favors were slaughtered. So there is nothing more to see here. Move along. She doesn’t have time for you, peasant.

KJP should not be given a pass for her hubris, but it is understandable. Effete elitism has always been a part of the Unofficial Progressive Doctrine. Watch this video of Nancy Pelosi being heckled for the perfect example.

I don’t know if the people who were venting their spleens are on the Right or the Left. Listening to them speak their pieces, they could be young conservatives. Or they may be progressives who finally figured out that the aged and narcissistic fops and princesses are nothing more than selfish leeches who mastered the game. But watch the video again and this time, don’t look at the protesters. Look at the audience.

What did you see? I saw white, grey-haired progressives, many smirking and some doing so behind masks. Wealthy, secure, and arrogant. They don’t believe that the malcontents in the audience deserve the time of day, much less a fair hearing. They were there to listen to the sounds of the echo chamber, not to have their values challenged or to even explore ideas.

KJP learned her trade at the feet of the masters. She is fulfilling the obligations of her apprenticeship. If she lacks anything, it is panache. The tradition of elitism is alive and well; it merely has a new face. Maybe someday, Antifa, BLM, and every other activist group may realize that their enemy is not the guy in the pickup truck who is stopping off at the store after his shift to pick up a six-pack of anything but Bud Light. They may realize that they have been manipulated and played by people who mouth the right words but do so from the best restaurants and neighborhoods.

Until then? Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss.