Color UD ambivalent about Christianity Today having spilled the beans.
Dramatically, as in O’Neill’s great play and a zillion others like it, it’s only fun to watch until someone… you know… coughs it up. Until that moment at the very end (“I… am… George… I am…”) when the obvious truth everyone’s been lying about gets very flatly stated, we sit and watch in delighted suspense, in excited anxious awareness, in a tense condition of enlightenment, astonishment, pity, euphoria, dread, amusement, fear…
When Mitt Romney wrote his beautiful editorial spilling the beans, UD felt a dramatic let-down. When Christianity Today did the same thing, she felt the same onrush of flaccidity. You know how everyone loves to quote Have you no sense of decency? Blah. Play up! Play up! And play the game!
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UPDATE: Trubu Roi’s Run Far From Over!
The long-running American version of Jarry’s Ubu the King (UD‘s posts about The Trubu Show go way back: put Trubu in my search engine) runs on. As UD suggests above, the citizen in her desperately wants the show to end, while the aesthete can’t help lovin this seniors gone wild caper, this Hangover franchise for mature audiences. Every time hoary Rudy Giuliani loses his shit and slobbers that “Soros is hardly a Jew. I’m more of a Jew than Soros is,” every time naughty octogenarian Alan Dershowitz describes the New Yorker’s editor as a neo-Nazi-friendly fraud, the girl can’t help it: She’s giggling in the wings, she’s having a grand time, she doesn’t want it to end. She doesn’t want Trubu psychiatrist Keith Ablow to lose his license; she floods with excitement when she sees the names Mike Huckabee, Michelle Bachman, Jerry Falwell Jr. and Ralph Reed lined up together in a cast list. She’s watching her very own, her native, La Grande Bouffe, where eventually one of Trubu’s Grand Old Men will sit at a piano, play a few chords, and fart himself to death.
December 22nd, 2019 at 5:27PM
It’s all very pathetic, UD. So utterly Schiffy is the Pelosicrats’ case that they needed to feign a “Lordy Jesus, come and squeeze us” holy roller moment after yet another Soros fellow traveling rentavangelical writing in a failing magazine that not one of the Kool Kidz even knew existed until a few days ago delivered his lines in Act CCXXXVI, Scene 1095c of Who Moved Our Cheese?: The Deploring of America by the Deep State (Luvvie Press, 2016–).
It’s all getting very personal now, UD, and the desperation will only increase. Did you know that The Donald is moving a whole fricking DC bureaucracy to fricking Colorado? I mean, like, Aspen and Vail…to like, ski in for a few days … but to live there all year around??!! What’s going to happen when The Donald moves the Ag Department to Kansas or Nebraska or Iowa or something? What happens when the National Endowment for the Arts gets moved to Mediocrevilleburgton??!! It will take a Vergil to describe the despair as latter-day Didos fling themselves onto funeral pyres rather than confront a life with fewer than fifty balsamic vinegars to choose from.
December 22nd, 2019 at 9:31PM
tp: We’re every bit as repellent and entitled as you say – my proudest moment today came when I read this – but you’ve convinced me that the world of Mediocrevilleburgton is even worse.
December 23rd, 2019 at 1:07AM
No idea what’s going on above but I have to acknowledge the “cough up” tie-in to Long Day’s Journey.
Albee damned if I can figure out the Who’s Afraid reference.
December 23rd, 2019 at 3:38PM
Ravi: Just another example of the place in a play where what we already totally know is flatly stated.
Albee damned is damned clever.
December 24th, 2019 at 9:29AM
It might actually be eye-opening to have field trips to Mediocrevilleburgton and similar places in the flyover. Usually we only appear on the news when there’s a tornado, a flood, a chemical factory blows up, or someone uses a wrong pronoun or something. Fearful bureaucrats would probably be relieved to discover that in just about all “evangelical” congregations, the big issues are not the correct temperature to burn books, witches, gays, or liberals, but rather the style of worship music, the pastor’s personality, and the eternal questions about food at the church picnics: does the German potato salad have to be served hot or can it be tepid? If Shirley brings another batch of nearly-raw fried chicken, can we just ignore it, or do we need to be polite and nibble a bit of the crust? We Catholics finesse the music issues by having an early morning Mass with no singing or music at all, a Saturday PM one with guitars and stupid 60s-style hymns, and a couple later on Sunday morning, one with organ/choir and the other with just an organ. The food controversies are similar. As far as political preaching goes, the places to go are Episcopalian, Presbyterian, Lutheran (ELCA, not Missouri), Congregational, and some Methodist churches, and the message from the pulpit assuredly will not be coming from the Book of Donald.