Pundits aren’t stupid. They’re just channeled. They start down an alley they think is a mountain climb. Prep school or elite high school, then glamorous college, graduate school, and then a game of snakes and ladders.

Climb or slither back down.

But as you climb, you are crawling into the serpent. The channel keeps getting narrower. More and more, you are divorced from the commonalities of your upbringing and thrown into closer proximity with your, uh, peers. People who have been educated just like you, have the same career pressures as you, and ultimately the same view of life from the same places where you eat nouveau cuisine lunch and take your over named drinks after work. You see the same dismal movies, discuss them, read the same ponderously drab books, discuss them, attend the same unwatchable foul-mouthed plays, do your best not to mention them, and laugh the same at the rubes who aren’t as au courant as you.

You are being digested. When there is virtually no difference between them and you, but for the snarky title of your latest column, you have reached the Thin Edge of the Wedge. Sometimes called the death rattle of the snake’s tail.

I never got there. Never went down that channel. Why I feel so free to jeer at Wallace, Krauthammer, Goldberg, Williamson, Hume, Lowrie, Kristol, Brooks, and even the Buckleys. The Kelly’s, O’Reillys, Hannitys, and company don’t count. Trash is trash. Even when you’re me, with more channels than all the rest of them have together.

*********************

It’s the karaoke version. So sing along.

Holy Romney met the Bushes
Yeah, he tried to set’em straight
Looked’em in the eye,
“Let the mod’rates go!”
Holy Romney’s Tabernacle
High above the silver spoon
Went to get Eleven Commandments
Yeah, he’s just gonna saw off the last!
All you Rombies hide your faces,
All you people in the street,
All you sittin’ in high places,
The party’s gonna fall on you…
No one ever spoke to Donald,
They all laughed at him instead
Workin’ on his deal,
Workin’ all by himself
Only Trump saw it comin’,
Forty days and forty nights,
Took his wives and ex-wives with him,
Yeah, they were the Mothers F!
All you Rombies hide your faces,
All you people in the street,
All you sittin’ in high places,
The Trump’s gonna fall on you
Holy Romney, what’s the matter?
Where have all the Bushes gone?…

Whoo. Whoo. Whoo.

Werefox. She thinks she knows everything. Foxes are cunning but they can’t read. Just a reminder When she’s alone she howls to the heavens.