Culturally Discombobulated

Tag: comedy

Apocalyptic Expectations (Christie and Trump)  


“I saw a beast coming out of the sea. It had ten horns and seven heads with unholy comb-overs and ten crowns on its horns, and on each head his name written in large letters gilded in gold.  The beast I saw resembled a molting leopard, but had a mouth like that of a sewer rat.

The beast was given a mouth to utter proud words and blasphemies and to exercise its authority for forty-two months.  It opened its mouth to blaspheme God, and to slander his name and his dwelling place and those who live in heaven. 

Then I saw a second beast, coming out of the earth. It had four stomachs like a cow but it spoke like a Jersey Devil. It exercised all the authority of the first beast on its behalf, and made the earth and its inhabitants worship the first beast. And it performed great signs, even causing bridges to stop. Because of the signs it was given power to perform on behalf of the first beast, it deceived the inhabitants of the earth.”

(From Revelations –  The Art of the Deal)

The joy of a candidate dropping out of the Presidential race is that they’re gone, banished into the wilderness so we’re saved from having to listen to any more of their bleating; they become the unwanted relative we’ve all tacitly agreed not to talk about. So Chris Christie reentering the electoral narrative today, only two after weeks after he departed it, is not something to be welcomed.

Particularly as today’s reappearance to publically kiss the ring of Trump was so discordantly triumphant. Wouldn’t someone who had performed so badly in New Hampshire – winning only the battle to see which of the three Governors in the race could underperform the most – think maybe nobody wants to hear from them? It takes one hell of an ego to think people want to hear from you days after an election that pretty much determined very few people do. Imposters incapable of suffering from imposter syndrome seems like a good definition for a politician.

If Christie did feel the need to reinsert himself back into the election cycle, narratively the only appropriate role for him was as a returning spirit. An apparition full of portentous warnings for reaming candidates. A phantom to Trump’s Richard III? Instead, Christie swoops in like the heroic cowboy. Wrong genre, Chris. This isn’t a rambunctious adventure story, it’s an American tragedy.

Some articles I read concluded that today’s theatrics point to Christie being Trump’s running mate if he were to win the nomination. Laying aside for one moment the obvious fat joke that Christie is in no fit state to be anyone’s “running” mate, that would make for a horrible ticket. The Holland Tunnel ticket, as I’m choosing to call this hypothetical, doesn’t broaden Trump geographically, nor that much ideologically. Coming up with a ticket that works isn’t an easy thing; it’s like putting together a successful comedy double act. There has to be the Odd Couple effect – how they differ and diverge allows for a harmonious whole. Trump and Christie is like seeing a double-act made up of Eddie Large and Eddie Large*.

The only positive of Christie being selected as the VP pick is the incredible amount of Trump – Christie slash fiction it would inspire.















*Yes, that was a way too British cultural reference. Replace Eddie Large with Cheech from Cheech and Chong, if that helps. Not that I think Cheech is analogous with Eddie Large, you understand.


Stewart Lee is normally the antithesis of the “it’s funny because it’s true” stand-up, but having just eaten a shrimp po’ boy by the beach I was reminded of this routine. It’s funny because it’s true.