Trump can cancel all the comedians he wants, but he will never make us stop laughing at him.
When George W. Bush launched his War on Terror, I noted that it was the first time in history that someone had declared war on a human emotion. If Bush defeated terror, I wondered, what was next—shyness?
Now Donald Trump has declared a War on Laughter, and I suspect it will be every bit as successful as Bush’s crusade.
Trump’s fear of being laughed at is nothing short of pathological. For years he’s been a crybaby about his portrayal on “Saturday NightLive.” And it was Barack Obama’s mockery of him at the 2011 White House Correspondents’ Dinner that reportedly impelled him to run for president. (Thanks, Obama.)
Like everything else rattling around in the commodious cavern of Trump’s brain, his fear of ridicule is unoriginal: he shares it with pretty much every dictator in the world. You might have noticed, for example, that there isn’t a thriving comedy scene in Pyongyang.
The autocrats’ anxiety is entirely justified. Comedy is their kryptonite. They rule by intimidation, and when we laugh at them, their power to scare us evaporates. As Mark Twain wrote in The Mysterious Stranger, “Against the assault of laughter nothing can stand.”
Which brings me to Trump’s latest target in his War on Laughter: Stephen Colbert.
Earlier this week, Colbert roasted the quislings at CBS’s parent company, Paramount, for donating $16 million to Trump’s presidential library to settle a risible lawsuit he filed against them. Given that Shari Redstone, Paramount’s biggest shareholder since the death of her icky father, is desperate to keep the government from scuttling a merger that will make her even richer, Colbert was justified in calling the payment a “big fat bribe.”
Yesterday, Trump’s proxies at CBS dutifully canceled Colbert, issuing the following statement: "This is purely a financial .....
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