Word And Concept For The Day
1. a condition of having consciously orchestrated a persona ridiculously at odds with the concoctions, inventions, delusions, that compose it.
2. a condition of actively, persistently, obliviously, subjecting oneself to humiliations generated by one’s own predilections, conceits, lifestyle.
(Anyone indulging in either practice is – ipso facto – an ‘autosatirist’)
Of the first definition, think… ‘the id offs the ego and superego and, finally unrepressed, dedicates itself to masturbatory Zen’.
Of the second, think… public exhibitions of onanism.
Everybody’s Doing It
Malcolm Muggeridge observed, while editor of Punch Magazine, some 60 years ago, that modern life’s absurdities had made the satirist’s role redundant. Oh Malcolm, you sharp sharpshooter.. but if you could but see us now!
Here, a prime example of an absurdity being presented as ‘insight’, a decade ago. In a Sunday NY Times column, resident monger of trite insight, David Brooks, extolled a crisp crease of a pant leg as all the curriculum vitae necessary for the office of President of the United States. The clubhead had time, plenty, to dwell on it and conclude, as any normal person would, that the line was vaudevillian comedic shtick, and had no place in declarative reasoning. But the oblivious knucklehead opted to lampoon himself –hence – ipso facto – autosatirist.
The advent of President Husseiny brought out self-inflicted buffoonery by the barge load. Chris Matthews had a publicly televised orgasm on CNN, reveling in the tingle up/down(?) his leg, which was reverie, which was fantasy, which was Husseiny. Any normal man would have quit his job and lost himself in Malaysia rather than live a public life with that humiliation as his signature moment on air – but not the autosatirist.
Barry, Barry, Bo Barry, Banana-nana, Low Faerie… Barry!
The nonpareil autosatirist in all human history, to the best of my historical knowledge is Barry Husseiny Obama. You doubt it? Perhaps this will convince you. Before proceeding, let me acknowledge that others had played a role in the making of Husseiny, but Husseiny took to it all like a loon to water.
Imagine twenty years ago a satirist, of some repute, say… Chris Buckley, were to write a satirical novel in which the following sad sack of ever replicating cells was the “protagonist”:
Barry Barack Hussein Soetoro Obama is a Kenyan. He is born to a peripatetic White woman and indeterminate Black ‘y’ chromosome donor. The mysterious and fay Husseiny takes up the ‘down low’ life in Chicago. He is baptized Christian in Rev Wright’s Church Of Latter Day Hates. He ‘marries’ a ‘beard’ with not only twice his Y-chromosomes, but also doubly hunky. Of the odd couple, the Black hulk, “he-she-it’, the wifey, the better half, was, also, the bigger man.
As a Harvard matriculate, Husseiny is presented with a JD magna cum laude and becomes besotted with himself. Neither the JD nor the self-infatuation is merited. Neither is Husseiny’s Nobel Peace Prize, announced October 9, (2009). The date is unofficially recognized as the day satire died.
Though Constitutionally ineligible, Husseiny beguiles the uppity class with Marxist bromides in millenarian tones, and… they buy it! So enamored was the MSM with Husseiny, they would squirt their drawers without having to drop trou. Husseiny is elected (POTUS), along with his teleprompter (TOTUS), as the first affirmatively-actioned black/mulatto, fuzzy-muzzie-crypto-pseudo-neo Christian president. And… …the crowd roared… and celebrated among Greek Dorian styrofoam columns. Husseiny turns the presidency into his own personal sinecure; rules like a potentate; vacations like a Saudi playboy prince; plays more golf than Tiger Woods; and plays host to Hollywoodie queer as camp, skank Uranians, cruising the White House for some “guy on guy” action. ‘Hail To The Chief’ got a new meaning.
I mean… WTF?! …Really! WTF?!… HTF?! is that not satire, epic satire – Grand Opéra Bouffe satire? And it’s not a novel, it’s – none of it – fiction!
The Golden Age
The autosatirists will be the totems for our time, for we now embark on the Golden Age Of our collective national humiliation.
Here’s another spud that, though not in Husseiny’s rarified air, deserves a blue ribbon in this category… the otherwise, and by any standard measure, unremarkable Anthony Weiner. It’s news to the youngsters, a recap for the oldsters:
Anthony Weiner, a New York Jew, marries a BrotherHood Muslima – Huma Abbedin. Mrs. Huma Weiner, not unexpectedly, prefers to go by her maiden name.
Anthony, being both a metro and a cosmo sexual, Tweets his tackle all over the worldwide net, angling for sweet young things, in the mistaken belief his junk is to young ladies as chum is to game fish. Found out, he resigns his office under duress but without humiliation. Putatively rehabbed, loyal trophy wife in tow, new trophy digs for show – $3.3 million Manhattan digs (owned by a wealthy Democratic donor) – Anthony announces a run for mayor of New York. In tracking polls, he leads all candidates until it becomes evident… again… Tony still has two heads and only… no brains. To date, his only accomplishment is to have been twice an inspiration: once for aspiring autosatirists, another for the phrase ‘one prick tony’ – possibly a dyslexic malfunction – more likely a meticulous assessment.
I mean… WTF?! …Really! WTF?!… HTF?! is that not satire, epic satire – Grand Opéra Bouffe satire? And it’s – none of it – fiction!
The Golden Age of autosatirists includes Alexandria Octavio-Cortez, Hill & Bill Clinton, Joe Biden, Maxine ‘The Mouth’ Waters, Beto O’Rourke, Abilio James Acosta, Louis Farrakhan… They are becoming legion.
The autosatirist is most often found on the political Left*, though political emanations from anywhere in the middle also contribute. Autosatirists are not to be taken for fools. Fools are easily and universally recognized as such. Autosatirists are taken seriously by a generous portion of ‘we the people’ who vote.
Welcome to the Zeitgeist.