Go ahead and list Trump’s flaws. This will take a while; I’ll wait. Now reflect upon what a thorough repudiation it is of Hillary Clinton and all that she stands for that a man with all those flaws was elected in a landslide.
This is the Schadenfreude edition of PTT. It is by far too early to do a victory dance, but on this day, no-one can deny me the pleasure of gloating. I gloat at the commentariat, at the pundits, at my peers — at all those who projected their fervent wishes for this corrupt, criminal witch into badly miscalibrated predictions. There is no shame in betting on the wrong horse — heck, even I had a sinking feeling going to bed that she was going to win. But when you make authoritative, categorical, 100%-confidence pronouncements that later turn out to be wrong, you’ll lose my respect. How many of you will have the integrity to publicly admit your hubris?
Will this resounding defeat prompt any soul-searching on the Left? My social media feed shows plenty of grief and anger but few actual attempts to seek out the root causes. The NeverTrump conservatives would be wise to take note of this as well.
The contrafactuals in this election have been of the grandma-on-wheels variety. Peggy Noonan imagines a hypothetical “sane Donald Trump”. Sorry, I must agree with Steve Sailer on this one: it’s not at all clear that a “sane” Trump would be either desirable or electable. What about a “decent” Hillary? Here again, I pretty much buy Sailer’s argument that the KKKrazy Glue that holds the Democrats together (a.k.a. the coalition of the fringes) more or less made Clinton their inevitable choice.
I will not pretend that there are no causes for concern — but let’s reserve the pessimism for another day. To close, let us summon John Derbyshire’s words of gloating, every bit as appropriate today as they were in 2004:
Nor do I have any reservations about gloating at George Soros, who has squandered stupendous sums of money in a lost cause. If I may be permitted a brief lapse into your first language: Lofasz a seggedbe, Georgie-boy.
“Lofasz a seggedbe, Georgie-boy.” He said it, not me.