Glenn K. Beaton: The Pirates of Antifa are headed to Davy Jones’ locker
“Argh, I’m a pirate!” So says every boy after watching the animated movie Peter Pan.
Then he slips into his daddy’s boots, makes a cardboard sword and puts on a funny hat. He prances around in his getup imitating Captain Hook.
His mom is delighted. “Oh, indeed you are. You’re quite a daring and darling pirate.” She videotapes him and posts it on Facebook for everyone to adore. “Now go to bed, you cutie-pie pirate.” So the boy goes to bed.
Most boys outgrow this but not the left. They imagine themselves as outlaw swashbucklers even as they slavishly conform to establishment politics. Think of bands of pirates marching in formation and saluting. Dressed identically, each compliments the other on his creative and non-conformist attire.
“Argh, we’re a motley crew of pirates,” they chant in unison.
Now the left has a new prancing pirate department. They call it “Antifa.” It’s supposed to be a contraction of “antifascism.”
Uh huh. OK, cutie pie.
These pirates of Antifa are men and women (and others, I suppose) of ages 20 to 60, going on 7, prancing around cities looking for sea monsters to slay. They pose as daring and darling individualists while chanting tired leftist slogans in unison.
Sea monsters being mostly fished out from our cities, Antifa settles for other creatures to slay. Such as the occasional political conservative whom they slay with name-calling. And free speech advocates whom they slay with shout-downs. (Unless the free speech advocate is the ACLU, which shivers their timbers with the notion that speech is lawful even if you disagree with it.)
Sometimes they slay statues.
If name-calling and shout-downs don’t slay their make-believe monsters, Antifa always has bottles and baseball bats. If the monster is a cop or GOP congressman, the weapons get more lethal and the game gets less funny.
Mom isn’t there — no, matey, the pirate seas are too rough for a mom! — but the pirates of Antifa have a substitute for mom.
Their substitute is the media. The media are even better than mom because their audience is bigger than mom’s Facebook audience (but not by much anymore). And they’ll play along even after bedtime.
The media moms think these marauding group-thinkers mugging for the cameras with bottles and bats are adorable so long as their bottles and bats target the right things. The right things, naturally, are things on the right.
The left believes in this show. It makes them feel good, and they believe it will deliver votes. Not just on the coasts where the consenting elites pay tribute in dollars and cents to pillaging pirate ships, but also inland where the barbarians have no cents other than the common kind.
The left believes this show will lead them to buried leftist treasure — the White House, Congress, the Supreme Court, state legislatures, governorships, something called social justice, presidential impeachment, redistributing wealth (to themselves), kneeling NFL players, COEXIST bumper stickers, raised taxes on everyone who makes more than they do, mandatory purple wigs, free stuff (except speech), abortion up till the 13th year, confiscated guns and burnt flags.
Like Tinkerbell, they believe.
But avast! If only these prancing play pirates would glance away from their mirrors, put away their makeup, stow the cameras, break out of lock-step and stop dreaming — if only they would recognize that their dire circumstances are an effect of their unpopular causes — they would see a real pirate bearing down on them.
The real pirate is President Trump.
Trump does have a certain swagger, whatever you think of his policies (which I mostly like) or his words and personality (which I mostly don’t). He doesn’t test his policies, words or personality with focus groups and doesn’t give a fig about establishment rules.
He says what he thinks, with language that is common, colorful and sometimes vulgar. He’s rich, in more ways than one.
He has an eye for the lasses even while armed with a beautiful and exotic wife whom he captured from an overseas land that ordinary landlubbers can’t find on a map.
And he loves a fight. Especially with the posing, buttoned-down, uniformed and all-in-a-row leftist establishment. He fights so much that it rocks his boat at times.
The prancing play pirates of Antifa are going to be blown out of the water.
If Antifa is the cartoon character Captain Hook from Peter Pan, then Trump is Captain Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean. Picture his orange hair in dreadlocks. After an insult here and a leer there, he grabs the pirate booty and dances an obscene little jig. Then he fires a cannon shot across the bow of North Korea.
Yo ho and a ho. And a bottle of rum.
Now if only we could find someone to play president.
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