Fully recovered from her Thanksgiving tryptophan bender (and expecting her viewers to be in a similar state), Full Frontal host Samantha Bee has resumed her spot in the chorus of lamentations over our recent unnatural tragedy.
Two of her segments dealt with the President-Elect to a greater or lesser extent. In the second one, D. Jamal Trump had to share a bit of the spotlight with outgoing Governor McCrory of North Carolina—whose exit was nowhere close to being as graceful as Mrs. Clinton’s or Mr. Obama’s. The main thrust of these two closely-related segments is that truth seems to have become the biggest loser in this entire electoral process.
If you will allow me to play devil’s advocate for a moment, there was a bit more spin than I expect to see from the host, allowing for the possibility that those areas of the show could benefit from a bit of editing. That said, the points that Ms. Bee made were, on the whole, worthy of consideration and well-worth the viewers’ valuable time. Then too, we must keep in mind that shows like Full Frontal are opinion pieces, not, strictly speaking, news broadcasts.
It was the third segment that caught most of my interest, especially since I live in the same area where the incident that inspired the segment took place. This is not to say I am putting in for a Medal of Valor for being in any sort of proximity to the right-wing dupe who shot up the pizza parlor. Geography aside, there was no chance whatsoever that I, a member of a tiny and greatly-despised minority (that is to say, the Cheese Haters of America) would ever visit a pizza parlor.
By now, you may have guessed that this part of the show was about the ridiculous tweet that Hillary Clinton had taken a considerable bit of time out from her countless and heinous crimes against humanity to run a child sex ring. Well, DUHHH!
As we might expect, the segment paid proper homage to the right-wing zealots behind those tweets, which inspired the gunman to invade the pizza place. Then it switched gears to an extraordinary interview of a supposed Clinton supporter, who imagined he was striking a blow against ignorance and paranoia by posting the most absurd fake news he could conceive. Of course, the idea backfired. I could have told him that. Even as far back as the early 1970s, when your narrator was in the Army, I found that you could tell your average GI that you spotted his mother by a 7-Eleven, giving out free Slurpees, and he’d either laugh it off or come back with a zinger of his own. But try to tell that same trooper that JFK was NOT a vegetable, being kept barely alive on a private island owned by Aristotle Onassis, and you were in for a scrap.
All this sort of put a tired old saying into clearer perspective, regarding the paving material on the Road to Hell.
Full Frontal, December 5, 2016