The effete True Conservatives™ currently dragging Bill Buckley’s once-indispensable magazine through the shitlib sewer-pipe had the unmitigated gall to sniff, in the manner of Thurston Howell III, at Oliver Anthony’s smash song, and John Nolte is all over ‘em like white on rice.
This establishment elite is so above it all he dissects “Rich Men North of Richmond” lyric by lyric. Honestly, the best way to read these excerpts is in the voice of Thurston Howell III:
“Yes — it is a damn shame what the world’s gotten to. But we can fix it. We don’t have to just dream about it. Indeed, if we want to, we can fix it on our own even if Washington is standing in our way or looking down its nose at us,” lovey.
He also suggests Anthony remind everybody in a song of “what makes America a great land — a land of opportunity, not of guaranteed success,” lovey.
It gets worse:
My brother in Christ, you live in the United States of America in 2023 — if you’re a fit, able-bodied man, and you’re working “overtime hours for bullshit pay,” you need to find a new job.
There’s plenty of them out there — jobs that don’t require a college degree, that offer good pay (especially in this tight labor market) and great benefits, especially if you’re willing to get your hands dirty by doing things like joining the Navy, turning wrenches, fixing pumps, laying pipe, or a hundred other jobs through which American men can still make a great living. If you’re the type of guy who’s willing to show up on time, every time, work hard while you’re on the clock, and learn hard skills — there’s a good-paying job out there for you. Go find it.
What did the pedantic do before the Internet?
How out of touch do you have to be to rip apart a song that speaks to a disaffected group of people and says I get you, I hear you, I’m with you, you’re not alone, we’re in this together…? That’s what art does. The best art grabs hold of something inside of us and helps us to make sense of it. Art is firing on all cylinders when it examines and explains the human condition. All Oliver Anthony is doing is commiserating and reaching out to a group of people who feel they are under assault by America’s dominant culture because they are under assault by America’s dominant culture. He’s commiserating with us in the same way Sinatra commiserates with the lonely, Patsy Cline embraces the brokenhearted, Woody Guthrie speaks for the scorned, and the blues offer everyone a shoulder to cry on.
Hey, National Review. Why are you whining about a song? This is America, you crybabies, a land where you can write your own songs. You don’t need to sit around and wait for Oliver Anthony to write a song about how great America is–not in America. Why aren’t you pulling those bootstraps, showing some initiative, and writing the song yourself, my brother in Christ?
Finally, what’s interesting is how National Review failed to comment on this specific lyric in Oliver Anthony’s “Rich Men North of Richmond”:
I wish politicians would look out for miners
And not just minors on an island somewhereBut that might be because National Review was publishing gushing articles about Jeffrey Epstein years and years after his conviction for procuring underage prostitutes.
What whores won’t do for a dollar.
But DAYUMMM, that one stung from all the way over here. Let ‘im up, John, I think he’s stopped breathing.
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I find it hard to believe that crap online mag is still in business. It’s hard to imagine anyone reading the tripe they put out.
Nolte hits that out of the park.
“What whores won’t do for a dollar.
We have the worst elites.”
They are elites only in their own minds, the rest of us just think they are whores. Well, no. Whores provide a service.
“Let ‘im up. John, I think he’s stopped breathing.”
Um, no.
In the manner Capt. William Fairbairn (the co-inventor of that splendid sentry-sticking dagger) ended all his hand-to-hand lecture demonstrations,
“…and then, kick him in the BALLS!”
Dulce et decorum est.