Establishment Throws a Fit over Being Called “Establishment”


The clowns of the National Review are at it again.

Charles Krauthammer, the Pulitzer Prize winning, pro-abortion, interventionist (if it suits Israel), and defender of the Republican Establishment, penned a column yesterday screaming “So what?” that 60% of voters are throwing their support behind anti-establishment candidates such as Trump, Carson and Cruz.

Krauthammer softens the attack on his peers by saying, “There’s nothing wrong with challenging the so-called establishment . . . if by establishment you mean careerists, the lobbyists, and the sold-out cynic, then  a good poke, even a major purge, is well-deserved.”

The career establishment journalist, who was a major backer of George Bush’s Iraq War, and the “weapons of mass destruction” fable, flips the anti-establishment support for Trump into an attack of the billionaire’s appeal.

Krauthammer states that “Trumpian populism” garnered only 24% support after Iowa, while conservatives where defined as supporters of Rubio and Cruz, who surpassed 51% support.

Krauthammer essentially argues that no self-respecting conservative could support Trump.

The journalist hawk’s consideration of Rubio as a conservative is laughable as the Florida senator is simply an establishment alternative to Jeb Bush’s flailing campaign.

At this point, Krauthammer and other establishment cronies are terrified of a Trump presidency. Why? Because they have no influence over the man.

Being part of the establishment means that they have to be invited to sit with the “cool kids” in the cafeteria, and Trump has offered no such invitation.

Instead, rather than allowing Krauthammer and GOP insiders a place at the table, Trump has indefinitely closed the door to their influence by figuratively proclaiming, “there is no table.”

The snarling rants of Krauthammer and his National Review cocktail buddies will resound until the day that Trump wins the GOP nomination. Then, like good little establishment hacks, they will bow their heads, shuffle up to the nominee and beg to be stroked like a homeless puppy pining for a home.