Meryl Streep informs us, there is pain outside the precincts of celebrity privilege.
How touching of the Queen Of Movie Make Believe deigning to notice the wretches outside her dominion of riches and citadels of self-regard. Glory be to the Goddess of Celebrity… that you have been moved to make a public utterance in regard to the criteria the labouring class, minorities, and the impoverished face on a daily basis,.
Good of you to finally become aware of the desperate, soul-decimating situation, your Grace, and thus have advised the Liberal Class court to take note and evince proper and due umbrage.
One thing though: It took the election of Trump for you to experience angst and show concern about the situation because…?
The Liberacrat court replies: “But It all did begin with Trump. It is all Putin and the Rust Belt rubes’ fault. If Empress Pantsuit had been able to take her rightful position on the throne, then the problems of the age would have been deleted like those thousands of problematic emails. Those annoying rural and rustbelt malcontents could be ignored into the oblivion their wretched, useless, strip-mall shuffling, big box store-purchased off-the-rack-clad hinds deserve, and the world would be transformed into possessing the practical beauty of a couture pantsuit.
Sagging, corrupt flesh tastefully covered by a veneer of class-based superiority. The cosmos restored to its natural order.
“But it has come to this: All possibility has been lost. Squandered like the beauty of dearest Huma in the thrall of her hideous mate — that gaunt, philandering beast of the pixel-sphere. All is ash and dust, all that is good, elegant and decent cast and scattered to hateful Trumpian winds. A bonfire of the deplorables rages.
“Yet: Hold your regal chin aloft, Queen Meryl. You were born better and above the vulgarian jubilee you now survey. A wardrobe change is called for; an accent coach must be summoned so that you can imitate with precision the native tongue of the restive, ingrate hoi polloi.
It is only a matter of time before the wretches recognise you only speak with their best interest in mind.”
Image: Dan Booth. Not to be reproduced without express prior permission.
Phil Rockstroh is a poet, lyricist and philosopher bard living in New York City.
Yet a bio amounts to dharma for dimwits: It defines a human being in the same manner and degree of veracity as a restaurant menu describes the various slabs of meat offered … commodified things that were once living beings.
