For the political elite, President Trump’s inauguration was like a party from hell. First there was the inaugural speech, in which Trump skewered “a small group in our nation’s capital” who have prospered at the expense of heartland America. His election was more than a routine contest between parties, he said; it was a movement, and “at the center of this movement is a crucial conviction, that a nation exists to serve its citizens.” “From this day forward,” he roared, “it’s going to be America first, America first.”
Then there was the inaugural parade, with the military ensembles; the police and veterans’ groups; the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts, the bands from Olivet Nazarene University and Texas State; the high schoolers from Indianapolis and Frankfort, West Virginia; the Mid America Cowgirls Rodeo Drill Team; and, not least of all, the Rural Tractor Brigade.
Where was Beyoncé, Michelle’s “role model” for her girls? (Those inured to vulgarity may wish to check out her performance of “Formation,” not what I’d want my daughter, if I had a daughter, to be doing.) Where were Usher and Alicia Keys, with their chart-topping “My Boo,” an insipid testament to hormones and doing just about anything you want? Where was the rhetoric of “us” and “them,” designed to wrench the country further apart and drive minority turnout in future elections? (There was plenty of that in Charles Schumer’s mind-numbing introduction of Justice Roberts, but Trump had nothing to do with that.)
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