Trump considering pulling US out of Constitution

New Yorker:

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Calling it “maybe the worst deal ever,” Donald J. Trump said on Wednesday that he is considering pulling the United States out of the United States Constitution.

“I’ve seen a lot of bad deals in my life, but this Constitution is a total mess,” he said. “We need to tear it up and start over.”

Trump was scathing in his remarks about the two-hundred-and-twenty-nine-year-old document, singling out for special scorn its insistence on three branches of government. “The branches thing is maybe the worst part of this deal,” he said. “The first thing we do when we pull out of the Constitution is get rid of two of those branches.”

Vowing to replace the Constitution with “a new, much, much better Constitution,” he acknowledged that there might be some elements of the original document worth salvaging. “We’re going to keep the Second Amendment,” he said, “and definitely the Fifth.”

More: Trump Considering Pulling U.S. Out of Constitution

New Yorker on Corbyn

A very interesting look at the Corby phenomena by Anthony Lane in the New Yorker – The Corbyn Supremacy.

Our story begins on May 8th, when the Tories, contrary to all predictions and polls, awoke to discover that they had won an outright majority in the general election. The Labour leader, Ed Miliband, resigned forthwith.

An interim boss took his place, while the contest to find his successor got under way. Three candidates emerged: Andy Burnham, Yvette Cooper, and Liz Kendall. All of them were personable, well-drilled, and hovering ideologically around the center of Labour politics, with Burnham tilting slightly to the left and Kendall to the right.

All three had been shadow ministers. (This means that, while your party is out of power, you “shadow” your opposite number in government, challenging his or her policies in the House of Commons and constructing better ones of your own. In so doing, you prepare for the day when, after your party wins an election, you step into the full glare of ministerial office.)

And then, unexpectedly, a fourth contender arose. His name was Jeremy Corbyn, and he was a last-minute candidate. That is no exaggeration.

Anybody wishing to enter the contest for the leadership had to be nominated, with the support of thirty-five Labour Members of Parliament, by noon on June 15th; with hours to go before the deadline, Corbyn was still short of that figure, and it was not until 11:59 A.M., apparently, that the final nomination for him was registered.

What movie director, making “The Corbyn Supremacy,” years from now, will be able to resist a closeup of that second hand, and its deafening tick?

Lane goes on to describe Corbyn and the leadership contest. Then:

So who are his fans, whose ardor has verged on idolatry? What do they see in the chap with the undervest and the cycle clips?

Well, they feel personally wounded by the result of this year’s general election, routinely referred to as a tragedy. Either they refuse to accept it or they tell themselves that it never happened. And the wishing away does not stop there.

They would, if equipped with a magic wand, undo the whole reign of Tony Blair—in many ways a more despised figure than Margaret Thatcher. She was the known witch from the other side of the forest; he was the traitor within, with his merchants of spin, his indecent weakness for wealth, his suspiciously ready grin, and his unnecessary wars.

The fact that Blair won three general elections, granting Labour its most sustained period of government in the modern era, is not just an inconvenient truth. To the Corbynite left, it demonstrates his perfidy, for only an accommodating scoundrel—a thinly disguised Tory, and a disgrace to the socialist faith—would be happy to shape and shrink his opinions until they fitted the capitalist mold.

It follows, from this thesis, that the last golden age was the nineteen-seventies, before the witch flew down, when the kingdom was safe in Labour’s hands. There are sunlit glades of yore to which Corbyn will conduct the faithful. As he informed them Saturday, in his victory address, “Welcome back. Welcome home.”

It is a shining vision, and, had I been a restive eighteen-year-old, watching that speech, I would have bathed in the glow of its abstractions. The Labour movement was, Corbyn said, “passionate, democratic, diverse, united, and absolutely determined in our quest for a decent and better society that is possible for all.” Who could disagree with that?

Plenty more, until Lane concludes:

Yet even that encounter pales beside another, still to come. By custom, the leader of the opposition becomes a member of the Privy Council—the small body of advisers to the Queen.

When you are first sworn in as a Privy Councillor, you must observe a particular ritual: kneel on one knee, on a stool; raise a Bible in the right hand, for the lengthy intoning of the oath; stand up, walk three paces forward, and kiss the monarch’s hand; then walk backward, preferably without tripping over the stool.

All of this is enough to strike terror into the privileged. So how will it affect someone who is a self-confessed republican, and an atheist to boot? Will Corbyn even go through with the ceremony? Will he skip the kiss? Will he, in a gesture of defiance, hurl the stool through a window? Will Her Majesty, who has seen everything, be amused?

Say what you like about Jeremy Corbyn, but his confounding rise to power, and the thought of what he might do with that power, has afforded Great Britain—the very name presumably gives him the heebie-jeebies—its most entertaining and most Shakespearean plot in a long while. A nation awaits.

Corbyn and followers don’t quite want to go back to the good old Shakespearean but nearly.

Full post: The Corbyn Supremacy