Tucker Carlson and Matt Taibbi Search for an Answer
They're eagerly awaiting the results of the investigations—we all are—but the real culprit has no name.
Tucker and Taibbi packed eight years of madness into 100 minutes.
They should’ve titled the podcast “WhatTF kind of nightmare did we just come through, and WhoTF orchestrated it?”
What doctors Moreau’d that gain-of-function research? Are they the same ones who then implemented Orwellian COVID measures and promoted gaslit narratives that would’ve made a Pravda editor ashamed? Who put people with non-compliant opinions into a Kafka maze of financial confusion by de-banking them, and who raided a non-violent pro-lifer’s door early in the morning like Nazis looking for Anne Frank? Who got the freewheeling iconoclasts in Silicon Valley to goosestep and erect a digital wrecking ball against dissent? Who pulled a perfect Ian Fleming and blew up the Nordstream? Who was able to put corporate power into a Dragon Sleeper and force it to jam DEI into commerce? Who told the MSM to ignore that made-for-blockbuster-movie character Thomas Crooks?
Who then pulled it all together and got every institution in America to act like everything was normal and sane and not remotely f____ed up?
Philip K. Dick would’ve given his left testicle to come up with a villain like that.
Tucker and Taibbi have no idea who did it or how he did it.
That by itself is stunning. Tucker and Taibbi’s grip on their subject matter is firmer than Jeffrey Toobin’s during a Zoom call, and they’re flummoxed. They’re speculating and guessing, tossing out names, eagerly awaiting answers.
The investigations have started. Tucker and Taibbi will probably get names. They might even see convictions. If things get aggressive enough, they might see a villain stripped naked and beaten with a stick, though I hope the mob doesn’t Gaddafi him, for the sake of the stick, if nothing else.
But even after all that, the real culprit will still be loose.
Because the real culprit is . . .
. . . the Jew.
Just kidding.
The real culprit is the Minotaur. The Minotaur was POTUS. The Minotaur controlled Silicon Valley, Wall Street, College-University Inc., and MSM, LLC. The Minotaur dictated to the generals and military-industrial CEOs. The Minotaur, that sardonic son-of-a-bitch, put a tranny in your daughter’s restroom just for chuckles.
The Minotaur was a mythical half-bull, half-human creature in Crete that devoured everything that entered its labyrinth.
It’s also the modern democratic state. All things within its labyrinth must serve it or get swallowed by it. You can try to ignore it, to keep yourself from getting absorbed within its walls, but the Minotaur relentlessly expands its labyrinth.
Democracies in the modern world possess financial powers that would’ve made every Bourbon monarch wet his pants with excitement. Kings back then had to beg and negotiate for money to support their wars. The Minotaur snaps his digital hooves and creates it.
The modern democratic state has no natural predators . . . no Theseus built into the system. Monarchy comes with an innate antagonism: the monarchy against everyone else. Modern democracy says the royal monarchy is everyone else by telling the people that they control the government with their votes, so when the Minotaur is fed, we’re all fed. The Minotaur then eats and gets stronger while everyone else gets weaker.
The “Smelly Car” Seinfeld episode revolved around body odor in Jerry’s car that won’t go away no matter how much he cleans. In fact, the odor gains strength every day. Jerry, exasperated with the powerful odor, says, “This isn’t just an odor; you need a priest to get rid of this thing.”
That’s the Minotaur. A smelly beast that keeps getting stronger. That’s just what it does . . . what it is. No one drives it, no one controls it. It just ravages.
Until someone stops it.
The last four years have displayed the Minotaur in all its gory. Tucker and Taibbi can demand to know who did all this, but they’ll never know because the Minotaur is a metaphor for That Which Has No Name. It’s just something that must be stopped, and this time, it’s going to take more than one Theseus. We need Theseus, Frank Church, and Fr. Damien Karras. Instead, we got Trump, Elon, and their small army of Big Swingin’ Dicks.
Will that be enough? It beats me.
Optimism wafts the air like a warm day in February, but it’s still winter, and there’s a long way to go.
