New Rule: Bill Maher Must Stop Trying to Pretend He’s Not in the Bag for Trump
No one gives a shit if Trump laughs once in a while in private.
by Rich Herschlag
Hey, Bill. By itself your recent dinner with Donald Trump, Kid Rock, and Dana White is not particularly troubling. For starters, it must have been kind of nice to be the only one at the table who could read at a sixth grade level. The problem, however, is your pedantic recounting of this already mildly nauseating MAGA tryst. It reads like a thinly veiled campaign ad for Trump’s third term, and if you play your cards right it might just become one.
For several years now you’ve lectured your slavish, masochistic audience on the own goal of wokeness. These diatribes—often recycled versions of older monologues—often contained kernels of truth and glimpses of the Democrats’ dysfunction. They gave you the appearance of evenhandedness and a fallback shtick when your marijuana jokes fell flat. But at this point in time your routine has become not only tiresome but embarrassing. And that’s why we have a little segment called New Rules. Would you like to hear it?
New Rule: Bill Maher must stop trying to convince us that wokeness is a real factor in anything anymore.
Have you attended or viewed a Bernie Sanders/Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez rally lately? In the time it takes you to wait for even one faint reference to anything remotely woke you could call your dealer, have him drive over to the studio, have your intern meet him in the parking lot, and get stoned enough to convince yourself you’re still a cutting edge performer. The lame Dems you blame for all the world’s ills are, unlike you, out there talking, shouting about all-out fascist attacks on the Constitution, democracy, financial stability, Social Security, and the most basic civil rights. Try telling this truth sometime. It might feel better than getting a forced laugh.
New Rule: No one gives a shit if Trump laughs once in a while in private.
No one was impressed with this personal insight of yours. In a different time and place as a nearly washed up comedian you could have said the same thing about Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler, or Benito Mussolini. Sure, let’s say a faint, morally bankrupt chuckle or two oozed out of Trump’s collagen-shot lips along with an edict to save eight dollars depriving an African child of an HIV vaccine. Impressive. We’ll never look at Roy Cohn’s apprentice the same way again. You’ve really humanized the bloated, sadistic prick. You might want to try doing the same for yourself.
New Rule: Bill Maher must stop trying to pretend he’s not a narcissist.
If there is one thing you absolutely have in common with Donald Trump it’s endless self-infatuation. Like your left hand, your monologues somehow always circle back to you, even though your life as an aging reclusive pothead connoisseur of women one-third your age is fairly boring and, to be perfectly honest, more than a little creepy. The real message in your sit-down with the worst President and worst rock star ever was Look at me! I’m part of the American elite! And with an elite like that, who needs trailer trash?
New Rule: Bill Maher must concede that his number two goal in having dinner with Trump was to increase his ratings.
Sure your home audience size, estimated to be around 600,000, is enviable for most of us out there constantly shopping our writing and performing chops. But you have to admit, like Trump’s economy it peaked long ago and has begun its inevitable downward drift toward men’s girdle territory. What better way to give your numbers a kick in the ass than a groveling trip to the White House of Sycophancy? Why not prolong that flagging career of yours still further with a humiliating sip from the Gutfeld chalice? Congratulations, Bill—you are comedy’s official answer to Senator John Fetterman.
New Rule: Bill Maher must admit that his number one goal in having dinner with Trump was to stay out of El Salvador.
And who can blame you? As someone who not infrequently melts down on the 405 during rush hour or waiting interminably for a sorority girl to disrobe in the next room, you probably wouldn’t fare too well in one of Nayib Bukele’s hellholes. Having sold your soul to the 47th President and first Dictator of the United States of America, you can now be reasonably sure when your name comes up during an Oval Office revenge session with Pam Bondi, JD Vance, and Stephen Miller, you will be passed over for John Oliver.
And finally, New Rule: Bill Maher must stop trying to pretend he’s not in the bag for Trump.
Why deliver more fake news? C’mon, admit it, Bill, this has been coming for some time now. It really doesn’t matter if grannies are missing their government checks, air traffic controllers are being sent home to play video games, international kids are learning to live on fallen berries, American universities are entering the Dark Ages, legal U.S. residents are being disappeared, the Chief Executive is giving the proverbial finger to the Supreme Court, longstanding post-WWII alliances are fraying like Trump’s undergarments, and the global economy is teetering on the brink.
The important thing is your unwillingness to be pigeonholed or put out to pasture even at the cost of a painfully obvious Faustian bargain. You have now quite possibly extended your performing half-life to an era when older Gen Zers will begin dabbling in generic Viagra. Unfortunately, the only source of that generic Viagra will be whatever obsequious pharmaceutical company happens to survive a fourth Trump administration, and the only way to purchase it will be the $trump meme coin.
Okay, have a great week and we’ll see you at Mar-a-Lago.
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Bill Maher continues to prove just because you’re an atheist doesn’t mean you’re smart.
I am vey disappointed in the way Bill Maher has continued to turn to the right. I was a big fan of his for many years and in fact, saw him in person twice, but I can’t say enough How sad I am that this is the path he has chosen to take.