There are few things more enjoyable in life than sitting back and absorbing it all as Chris Hitchens unloads on someone who deserves it as much as Mel Gibson.
A small sampling:
- One does not abruptly decide, between the first and second vodka, or the ticks of the indicator of velocity, that the Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion are valid after all. There’s a lot to dislike about Gibson. He is given to furious tirades against homosexuals of the sort that make one wonder if he has some kind of subliminal or “unaddressed” problem. His vulgar and nasty movies, which also feature this prejudice, are additionally replete with the cheapest caricatures of the English. Braveheart and The Patriot are two of the most laughable historical films ever made. (Englishmen don’t form picket lines outside movie theaters when “stereotyped,” but still.) He has told interviewers that his wife, the mother of his children, is going to hell because she subscribes to the wrong Christian sect (a view that he justifies as “a pronouncement from the chair”). And it has been obvious for some time to the most meager intelligence that he is sick to his empty core with Jew-hatred.
Think about it. No one got hurt while Mel was driving drunk. He is now forever outed as a Jew hater (heal this you fuck). His rant added a much needed diversion to an abnormally hot, humid and gross Malibu weekend. Hitchens got to unload on him again. And the morning news shows have something to talk about other than the latest way to get, and keep, those extra pounds off.
Seriously, when does anything ever go this well? And how do we get a few of those – not so modern in their feelings about Jews – European leaders to have a few shots of tequila and take a drive (a simple raising of hands will do of course)?
There’s an old saying made famous in the musical Fiddler on the Roof:
“If you spit in the air, it lands in your face.”
Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure that’s also one of the roadside sobriety tests run by Malibu cops.