No one ever started a revolution overestimating the intelligence of the American public…


A favorite of mine, ever since I first heard it uttered by a patron in a bar I tended in 1992:


Nobody ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public.


This scathing observation, a paraphrasing of of something H.L. Mencken wrote in the 20th Century, is a fantastic contortion of the English language whose very wickedness is empowered by the backwards nature of the verbal assault.


I was reminded of it when I read this story about yet another MSM pop-poll which chides President Trump for his failure to motivate this nebulous group known as “Americans” into anything resembling a sense of affinity for his Presidency.



Donald Trump has the lowest ever six-month approval ratings for a US President, according to a new poll.


The survey released yesterday showed just 36% of Americans thought he was doing a good job.


This was the lowest since polling started 70 years ago, with only Gerald Ford coming close to the number with 39% in February 1975.


His disapproval rating was also at a record high at 58%, according to the ABC News and The Washington Post survey.




You know what?


There are plenty of folks who view this “disapproval” by Americans as an auspicious and endearing thing. The MSM proclaims such “statistics” proudly, as if such a distinction should be construed as a condemnation. Quite the contrary. Trump’s strength is his single-minded boldness and refutation of business as usual: that business which is known as the tired American political rigmarole that is getting us nowhere.


On that note, I would like to tweak Mencken’s words:


No one ever started a revolution overestimating the intelligence of the American public.








Status whores must die!


Status whores are my least favorite whores of all.


At least sex whores don’t put on airs about their shtick. They are providing a service and they want to make a righteous dollar from it. They don’t dress up their vocation as anything other than what it is. They fuck for money, wham bang, thank you m’am.  End of story.


But status whores are vile trash mongers. I hate status whores because ultimately what drives them is that distasteful gnawing conformity, a noxious sense of “keeping up with the Joneses” for no other reason than shallow imagery. Status whores come in all shapes and sizes and classes.


There are economically downtrodden status whores who debt-climb their way up the ladder of facade, and there are very wealthy status whores who can afford their self-inflicted distinctions quite well, thank you.  And an infinite shade of status whoredom exists in between.


There is a little raging status whore in all of us. Status whoredom is a continuum, a bell curve of shitty human nature. I will never pretend to not be a status whore because that would be a lie and I am too self-aware to pretend to be anti-status whore incarnate. I do things in my life, I am guilty of certain behaviors, that make it patently obvious the status whore dwells in me. Granted, I am on a leading edge of the bell curve, on the left end, near the ascetics, the clergy, the indigent; there is very little of the status whore in me, but when one works in the Hollywood “Industry” and lives in the class-conscious toilet bowl that is coastal Southern California, it is direly difficult to be anything other than a status whore. By comparison to most Angelenos, I am nothing approaching a status whore, but  if I lived in Topeka, Kansas, I would be the fancy swashbuckling big city outsider by comparison.  A real smoldering status whore.







I dress OK, not super fashionably or anything like that, but nice enough not to attract undue caustic judgment from superficial Los Angeles bitches (sorry for the redundancy).   I don’t have that “well-put-together” look that a lot of guys have.  It’s obvious I don’t fuss over my clothes and the aesthetic fluidity of the ensemble I wear for the day.  I’m not disheveled;  I’m just not striking.


My hair is a complete drab mess. My SO cuts my hair every few weeks in the balcony of our condo. She is not professionally trained but she is adept enough to maintain this symbolic attempt at a hairstyle that is barely discernible on my scalp which sadly becomes more visible as each day passes. Some guys really put a lot of thought into their hair. It is combed and product-ridden just so, and it seems very trendy and it’s just too much work and too much money in my humble estimation. Only status whores care about their hair that much.


I drive a domestic car, make and model indeterminate in the grand scheme of SoCal’s auto-fixation. Status whores in this town drive foreign, that’s all there is to it. They would rather spend $60,000+ on a sedate sedan than on a svelte Corvette. My car rarely is washed and plays the dutiful role of antithesis to status whoredom. Status whores in this town would not be caught dead driving what I drive, even as a rental (in fact, most of them drive the type of cars which, when garaged with the mechanic, allow them to use a “courtesy car” during their period of horrid inconvenience).


Status whores must eat the right food from the ordained eateries. The newer and more ironically named the restaurant, the better. Status whores don’t cook. They buy prepared meals and the more original and unprecedented their menu item, the better. They sit in groups of gluttonous pigs and ooh and ah over food. They don’t brown bag it and they don’t eat cleanly or whole very often. I eat simply. I eat whole, undoctored meat without sauces and usually accompany that with a mass of vegetables. I throw in a sweet potato as a “treat” sometimes. I eat fruit for desert. I rarely eat fancy baked foreign shit and I don’t consume much stuff with powdered sugar.


I drink my coffee black and hot. Always.


I am not a status whore.


I voted for Donald Trump and I still support him. In California, that is a special, golden path to wearing this anti-status whore badge of honor; proudly!