Tucker Carlson’s Cynical, Preppy Game: Or. Why Tucker Won’t Ever Run
Betrayal. Beltway. Hypocrisy. Privilege. Politics. Media. This email, quite frankly, has it all. The totality of Tucker Carlson, on, of all places, Hunter Biden’s notorious laptop. An infinitude of deliciousness!
It was perhaps the juiciest part of the Hunter Biden laptop nothing burger. Between the all-beef patty, the special sauce, the lettuce, the cheese and the pickled onions on a sesame seed bun was this thin little slice of Tuck. It was a glimpse at the true Tucker Carlson, preppy beltway status-chaser, par excellence.
Oh, how he climbs. And, look, always for the highest branch! Like a little monkey, mop-headed and festooned in plaid, our Tucker.
And yet Carlson, who could run a credible Presidential campaign in 2024 in defense of the downtrodden non-college white man, would never, ever do so. Because, like that other preppy status-chaser Joe Scarborough, it would entail a cut in salary as well as a certain amount of risk. Tucker’s $10 million a year and Morning Joe’s $99,000 a week salary (as of 2013) are the prizes of privilege. They must be savored, like a 1903 Domaine de la Romanee-Conti Montrachet Grand Cru. It would be uncivilized to abandon the glass mid drink. White, non-college working class men are in the hour of the wolf, but, hey, Tucker’s not done with his white — always white — Burgundy. The climb is long and hard, but the rewards …
Tucker will, however, roll down the power windows of his limo to shout a few words of encouragement to non-college white man who got him to where he is — weeknights at 8 PM Eastern Time! Stay Tuned! Which, clearly, tells you quite a bit about the political courage of Tucker and his fellow pampered man-boy Joe. Why risk public service, as the preppies of old — like Bill Buckley — used to do? Prinicples? Piffle! Haven’t you heard? The Montrachet from these heights has notes of salty farmyard butter and waxed apple. They have stood on the shoulders of the downtrodden to get that second glass of Cru.
That having been said, both Carlson and Scarborough, have really luscious hair. Whatever arguments against their manliness I am making here, let it be said that I’m not even going to try to take that away from either of them. Especially Scarborough. Just fucking luscious. But lets get off of “Morning Joe.”
Ultimately, Tucker Carlson wants the trappings of the preppy lifestyle gained through espousing nativist populist replacement theories. He does not want to get sweaty at the construction site with his people, drinking Bud. Tucker wants his properties in Western Maine, DC and Gasparilla Island, Florida to unwind. He wants his son, Buckley, named after his favorite preppy conservative patriarch, to have a comfy position among House Republicans. He wants the Carlson name to last throughout the ages. But if espousing the interests of the white, non-college working class men coincides with his … financial interests, well, heyyyy.
Perhaps it is overkill attacking Tucker for protecting “what’s his,” looking out for “his boy,” Buckley, at every step of his conservative, preppy development — tadpole to bullfrog! — in “the swamp.” Tucker didn’t make the rules; Tucker is just playing the game! And the game requires a narrator. And to the narrator go the spoils. If working class whites want a leader willing to risk it all, stepping into the gladiatorial fundament of politics after the vacuum of Trump, articulating nativism in wintry New Hampshire or Iowa, then Tucker is — decidedly NOT your guy.
He’ll be at the country club sipping Cru!
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