I’m not even going to quote from the lower-than-low-blow kiss-and-tell article by Lucy Klebanow in in Salon titled “My awful date with Donald Trump: The real story of a nightmare evening with a callow but cash-less heir.” I couldn’t finish reading it, so quickly was it apparently that I, like you, didn’t need to start, so self-evidently unethical and inexcusable was its motive and topic. There is nothing newsworthy within it, and while its unjustifiable incursion into the area of privacy that every human being, even celebrities, have a right to enjoy isn’t quite at the Hulk Hogan sex tape level, it is no less wrong.
This same, mean-spirited, essay could be written about me, or you, and definitely about Lucy Klebanow, by anyone who happened to have a one-time social encounter with us that didn’t show us at our best. What has Donald Trump done to exempt him from the basic human courtesy of keeping the details of such inevitable social disasters on the way to maturity and wisdom between the two participants? Nothing. Nothing, because nothing, not even Trump’s own indiscretions about others, can do this. The Golden Rule applies here like epoxy: we don’t do this disgusting thing, because nobody wants their own repulsed bad dates to do it to them. It’s a terrible thing to do. To anyone. Period. No exceptions.
I’m thinking back now, way back, to a sweet and loving young woman I treated abysmally in college, and I dated her a lot more than once. She could write an essay for Salon about me that would make Lucy Klebanow’s account of The Early Donald read like Paul Begala enthusing about Hillary in comparison. She wouldn’t, of course, even if I were in the public eye and giving my impression of the biggest, dumbest, nastiest horse’s ass ever to presume to run for President, because she possesses the qualities of fairness, kindness, decency, and responsibility, and because she lives by the Golden Rule now, as she did then.
I’m up this early on a Saturday because my stomach is unsettled and keeping me awake, and thinking about the Salon article isn’t helping, so I’m going to close with some questions.
Does Salon know the difference between legitimate political criticism and gutter-level character assassination?
Does anyone in the news media? How can a journalist deride Trump’s cheap and ugly attack on Ted Cruz’s wife’s appearance yet think dredging up one of his old girlfriends to dish forty-year old dirt on him is any better?
Does anyone in the media or politics recognize rationalizations when they are ten feet high in neon Technicolor right in front of their faces?
What does twenty-something Donald Trump have to do with the guy that’s running for President? Who cares about him? Who Donald Trump’s age doesn’t look back on their younger selves with regret and embarrassment?
When a man literally, and I mean literally literally, not figuratively, says or does something every day that legitimately disqualifies him to lead a parade of fools, much less a nation, why do hard-left publications like Salon think that using unfair tactics to attack him is either necessary or helpful?
I won’t bother asking this of Lucy Klebanow, who is obviously a sad, foolish, irrelevant woman with an empty life to stoop to this for cash or momentary fame, but has Salon no decency at all? Is its “ends justify the means” mentality typical of the progressive movement that it represents and so frequently makes look thuggish and deluded?
When did Salon morph into Gawker?