The Real Trump Problem

The problem with Trump isn’t that he’s doing horrible, evil things. The real problem is that he isn’t doing anything whatsoever. All he does is fire up the impressionable folks on both sides with meaningless tweets. They begin to jump up and down in response while he laughs. And then keeps not doing anything.

He gets away with this because many people seem utterly incapable to notice the difference between doing something and promising to do something on Twitter.

Labour Nuts

We won’t stand for a society in which only a lucky few succeed while inequality and poverty hold back millions. We will focus on social justice, not just social mobility, to build a society in which everyone can develop their talent and succeed regardless of their background.

What about the possibility that not everybody has “talent”? (Which by the way is as neoliberal a term as it gets). What if shedding your unsatisfactory background isn’t as easy as discarding a pair of shoes that’s no longer in fashion? What if background can’t be socially engineered away at all and people can’t be turned into blank slates through “social justice”?

And how can there be a success that’s shared equally by everybody? If you give every single person 5 houses and 10 cars, they will consider success to mean having 6 houses and 11 cars. Or any number accessible to only few, even if those few are imaginary.

In just two sentences, there are so many faulty assumptions and meaningless slogans that the whole thing becomes a joke. And believe me, I chose the least ridiculous part of the article. The rest is worse. This lady proposes some scary shit if the British are dumb enough to elect her.


This spot-on column about Sally Challen brought to mind how once during a workout one of the ladies just couldn’t put any energy into hitting the punching bag. The coach tried everything but she was listless and low-energy.

Then, all of a sudden, her eyes lit up, and she started delivering a shower of fast, strong punches.

“Great!” the coach exclaimed. “I can see you got some of your energy back at the end of the workout.”

“Nah,” the lady said. “I just imagined I was hitting my husband and that made all the difference.”

Everybody but me found the joke charming.

Of course, if one of the men in the group made the exact same comment about his wife… I don’t think he’d be coming back to our fitness club.