Slapdicks and scrimpthoughts, Enthusiasts. Always recall this when dealing with the Pundit Class. They see a shiny object, and they fuck the shiny object. Today, that which glitters but is not gold is the comparison between Watergate and All The Bullshit This Maniacal Shithead Has Pulled. (Hereafter known as ATBTMSHP.) The analogy is, as one would expect, facile to the point of fallacious, and shoddily-constructed.
I prove my argument thusly:
IT’S EVERY FUCKING DAY WITH THIS GUY Watergate was just one crime. (Technically, it was several. Breaking & Entering and Wiretapping are separate offenses. What I’m saying is that all the individual felonies were parts of an overarching scheme.) Bunch of schmucks broke into an office. Whereas every day, Basketball Head commits at least four impeachable offenses.
THE CHEEKINESS Watergate was adorable, admit it. Idiots in black turtlenecks and ski caps crouch-sneaking into darkened offices. Security guards patrolling the halls with flashlights. Scotch tape on the latch to keep the door from locking. Cops are called, and it’s 1972 so the cops have mustaches and .38 service revolvers. I bet they said “Get your hands up!” Even better, this initial burst of criminality had ramifications of pure delight: meetings in shadowy parking lots; envelopes stuffed with hundos; dramatic revelations during televised hearings, code names. CODE NAMES!
Like I said: adorable.
But none of ATBTMSHP has been even cute. Where’s the panache in bribing the President of Ukraine for dirt on your political rivals? Funneling money to one’s own properties? Pedestrian, don’t you think? Common.
We don’t go to the moon anymore.
WATERGATE, NOT BOUNTYGATE Russkies didn’t pay for American scalps when Richard Fucking Nixon was in charge. There was respect, by God.
RED LIGHT BLUES This latest spate of “Is Nixon like Turnip” takes come because the Pundit Class saw “Bob Woodward + Tapes” and went ass-over-teakettle in a thousand uncontextual words. The tapes in consideration are not related, save by both featuring a sitting President. There is an chasmic difference between private recordings obtained using hidden microphones that the Supreme Court had to force Nixon to turn over, and Trump just ring-a-dinging Bobby Dubs in the middle of the night all hopped up on Fox News and Filet-O-Fish to confess crimes.
Say what you will about Richard Nixon, but the man never called up a reporter at the Washington Post and said, “I did it.”
THE KUSHNER FACTOR Nixon wouldn’t have stood for Prince Milkdick. Nixon would have had Haldeman and Ehrlichman kick him half-to-death in the Oval Office. “Keep the bleeding internal, boys,” Nixon would say. “He has to walk out of here.” They’d stomp his kidneys with the heels of their well-laced broughams. Good boys, H & E. Good listeners, and loyal.
SHAME AND ITS BENEFITS Nixon was smart enough to try covering up his crimes. That’s basic self-preservation. Whereas Trump, I remind you once again, called Bob Woodward 18 times for the sole purpose of admitting to shit.
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Bob Woodward speaking.”
“Bob, it’s your favorite President. I’ve done crime.”
“I’ll be recording this.”
“Super. Record my crimes.”
And so on. That’s what the doofus did.
Actually, let’s have a thought experiment. Nixon was a savvy political operator, so he’d naturally know better than to call up a journalist and confess to impeachable offenses, but what about you? You’re no grizzled gladhander. You’re just some spaz. But what if–via some sort of topsy-turvydom–you were tomorrow morning to wake up in the Residence of the White House? What if you–dimbulb that you are–magically became the President?
You’d know better than to midnight-dial Bob Woodward and start spilling your guts, wouldn’t you? Or, failing that instinct, perhaps you’d have installed a staff that would talk you out of doing such a thing. Or maybe you’d call him once or twice. But not 18 times.
SPELLING BEE Nixon would ravage Trump in a spelling bee. It would be brutal.
Thusly, my argument has been proved.