The face says it all.
Deena Katz, for those who may not be acquainted, is one of those wealthy, elitist Left Coast slimeballs who cower behind the shimmering veneer of virtuous do-goodyism which has a condemnatory way of placing anyone who disagrees with said wench in the “bad right-wing person” category simply because they don’t humor all the niceties spewed by those who wish cynically make the world a better place.
Deena Katz and that effin face. Lord.
The sound of a Katz being skinned alive is what this sounds like.
Katz, co-executive producer of ABC’s “Dancing with the Stars” and a producer of HBO’s “Real Time with Bill Maher,” grew up in a progressive home in a wealthy, conservative and almost entirely Caucasian area of Rancho Palos Verdes. Katz’s parents took great pains to involve her in activities with kids of various backgrounds — her mother, one of the first women to demonstrate a breast self-exam on TV, going so far as to organize underground summer camps in East L.A.
When Katz arrived at the idea to organize a Los Angeles counterpart to the Women’s March on Washington, she learned that [fellow Womens March Los Angeles organizer, Emiliana] Guereca had already pulled permits for such a march and the two combined forces.
Listen to the screech.
Like nails on a chalkboard. Behold the shrill sanctimoniousness shatter your eardrums.
“It’s not just about me. It’s about everyone. It’s about religious rights. It’s about workers’ rights. It’s about teachers. It’s about reproductive rights. It’s about Muslim rights, and I’m a Jew. It doesn’t matter. We all have to get out there and fight for everyone,” says Katz.
Everyone, hear me hiss.
This raging Libshit cunt has her hands in all Commie pots. Spreading that horrid visage thinly across all causes and Fixations of the Democratic Wealthy, she can be found lording over just about all Hollywood-fueled bouts of high-society virtue signaling and anti-Trump bluster. And of course, guess what new Lefty pot she is hunched over, stirring up a toxic brew that seeks complete overthrow of traditionalism?
Why she is enabling the snot-nosed kids, of course.
Millions of dollars in donations have poured into a fundraiser launched by student survivors of the school shooting last month in Parkland, Florida. When it comes to activism, the teens say they’re running the show. But there are adults behind the scenes of March for Our Lives: A document uncovered by HuffPost reveals a diverse board of directors that includes public servants, legal experts and professionals based outside of Florida.
The document lists Deena Katz, an Emmy-nominated producer and the co-executive director of the Women’s March Los Angeles Foundation, as president. She is helping organize the March for Our Lives on her own as an individual, a 42 West spokesperson said.
Katz attempts to minimize the vitriol of her hatred of Donald Trump from behind the facade of “positivity” and “empowerment” concerning all her quasi-political charades, but it’s obvious to anyone familiar with her type that Donald Trump is the common denominator that inversely drives all leftists to emotive nuclear meltdowns disguised as “general” political action and expression.
In fact, the smarmy Katz, by virtue of her position in the Industry, and as Executive Producer of Dancing With The Stars, cannot shun any opportunity to make some grandly subtle anti-Trump metaphorical statement.
From May, 2016, well before Hillary was penciled in to win that year’s Presidential election:
From the moment Marla Maples first appeared on screen in this season’s premiere of Dancing With the Stars, in a fur stole and with a champagne flute dangling from one hand, she was a vision. As she floated across the stage to the opening strains of “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend,” the whole performance may as well have been a big, bedazzled middle finger to her ex-husband Donald Trump—an exhibition of her undiminished charm. But it also felt like more than that. Onstage, lounging on the judges’ table as tuxedoed men presented jewelry to her like an altar offering, she was ethereal, above the fray, in control.
It had been about 25 years since Marla Maples’ last turn in the limelight. In 1992, when she was 28 years old and newly married to Donald, she starred in The Will Rogers Follies on Broadway. Since her marriage ended in 1999, she had been quietly raising her daughter, Tiffany Trump, in California, largely avoiding the public eye. Multiple reality shows had courted her over the years, and she never accepted. “I felt like people had seen enough of my personal life, living in the spotlight like Donald and I were during our marriage, and [I never even got] paid for it,” Maples told me. When Dancing With the Stars reached out to her last year, she was 52 and her daughter was about to graduate from college. She worried that the public knew her name for the wrong reasons. “Donald was a very important part of my life,” she said. “But I wish more people remembered me as a Broadway actress.”
Dancing With the Stars casting director Deena Katz had heard Maples was a fan of the show. She’d tried to recruit her for a previous season, but Maples had declined. Katz knew, for obvious reasons, “that this was a very crazy time for Marla and her daughter,” she told me, but she also knew that there might never be a more perfect moment. Katz arranged a Skype call and assured Maples that, if she signed on, her storyline would not be Marla Maples, the ritzy damsel last seen on Donald’s arm. It would be Marla Maples learning the quickstep. Katz assured her, “When you step onto that stage, it’s about you. It’s not about Trump.” Maples was intrigued. “Deena told me, ‘We’ll take care of you,’ ” Maples said.
Sure, Deena. That unmistakable demonic screeching that sounds like someone skinning a Katz never sounded quite so…unnerving. Your agenda is writ on that mug of yours. Your eyes, permanently affixed in a scrunched let’s-save-the-world’s-feelings spasm.
Thank you for watching over us. What would we do without the likes of you?