Last month, WTF ranted about the new contempt for facts, learning and experience in a blog entitled WTF Wrong is the New Right Special which made Cassandra look cheery, warning that it boded ill for 2017. Trump’s election has not turned out to be as bad as she thought. It is much worse. One week in and it is already clear that truth is the first casualty of Trump’s War. On Day Two, he pitched up at the CIA with twenty braying idiots shipped in to cheer him on cue. He claimed that the lying Media had falsely suggested he had criticised the Intelligence Services for disseminating allegations of his watersporting in a Moscow hotel. Except that he had criticised them for it. On Twitter on 11 January 2017 at 12 48 EST. The braying idiots cheered him to the rafters, like the canned applause you get on American TV shows. Trump also lied that 1.5m people had attended his Inauguration. In his dreams. That lie was then perpetuated by the apoplectic, squeaky-voiced Press Secretary Sean Spicer, together with a whole batch of new and ludicrous lies about the numbers, coupled with thinly veiled threats to hold the Media “accountable”. Spicer made such a fool of himself that a new hashtag, #Spicerfacts, swamped Twitter even more than his outsized, comedy suit swamped him (the suit got its own hashtag, #SeanSpicersuit). The following day, Trump’s Counsel Kellyanne Conway, a woman who makes Cruella de Vil look cuddly, was quizzed on Spicer’s splenetic performance. Conway explained that he had not lied, he had offered “alternative facts” and then had the temerity to complain when the interviewer laughed at her. On Monday, Spicer, markedly more emollient than on his previous outing and wearing a suit that fitted him, denied he had lied, maintaining “I think sometimes we can disagree with the facts. There are certain things that we may not fully understand when we come out, but our intention is never to lie to you.”
But it is. That is exactly their intention. Their intention is to tell you that black is white, that up is down, that good is bad, that facts are not facts. You cannot disagree with a fact because it is a fact. It is “a thing that is known or proved to be true”. The only alternative to a fact is a lie. Whatever you choose to call it. Juliet remarked “that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”. That which Trump and Spicer and Conway call a fact is a lie and it stinks worse than a decomposing skunk. Spicer told us that white groundsheets on 20 January 2017 with hundreds of people on them were actually white groundsheets with thousands of people on them. He told us that white groundsheets on 20 January 2013 were green grass because white groundsheets were not used on 20 January 2013, even though anyone with functioning eyeballs could see that on 20 January 2013, thousands of people were standing on white groundsheets. Alternative my arse.
And the lies have kept on coming. And will keep on coming. Trump’s rampant Narcissism means he cannot bear to be bettered, cannot bear rejection, cannot bear mockery, cannot bear criticism. He deals with it by lying. So there have to be more people at, or watching, his inauguration than ever before. No one else gives a shit how many people attended a Republican inauguration in a Democrat city on a freezing cold, wet, January day or whether people watched it on their iPhones. But Trump does and so he will lie about it and send his minions out to lie about it and then he will rage at the Media for not swallowing the lie. Just like he only lost the popular vote because millions of illegal immigrants voted for Clinton. And he will tell his credulous supporters that he didn’t say this or tweet that and that the Media are the liars, so that eventually they will only get their news direct from his tweets and Spicer’s lies. And just as they have been told that Mexicans are criminals, that Muslims are terrorists and that bankers and big business (the bosses of which now form his Cabinet) ruined America, they will come to believe that any inconvenient truth is a lie. Hail to the Chief.
Our review of the week’s clothing cloaca starts in Washington D.C. with Sean Spicer in his ridiculous suit.
That suit is big enough for two. The sleeves are ruched, the collar is picketing his neck, the shirt doesn’t fit and he can’t tie his tie. Sean should also invest in some Bobbi Brown under-eye concealer at the earliest opportunity.
And here is Kellyanne Conway at the Inauguration, wearing Gucci.
In keeping with her new role as Enemy of the Elite, Kellyanne appeared in this $3,400 coat and an upturned flowerpot on her head. Was she paying homage to the Patriots? They had better hats.
And speaking of elites, here is pointless Paris Hilton out and about in London.
This is part-Oscar, part Missandei from Game of Thrones, all bad. And sunglasses in the dark are just silly.
In similar vein, we have Orange is the New Black actress Ruby Rose, wearing WTF Bugbear Julien Macdonald.
This gold frock, complete with imminent Minge Moment and tit-harness, makes Ruby, who has FIFTY-FOUR tattoos, look like a particularly scrawny, cross-dressing, teenaged teamster.
Ruby and Milla Jovovich are in a movie called Resident Evil – the Final Chapter. Here is Milla at the premiere, wearing Prada.
This is a nightdress trimmed with untrimmed grey pubic hair. Meanwhile, whoever did lovely Milla’s makeup needs a slap, a P45 and another slap.
To LA and actress Keke Palmer at the premiere of “The New Edition Story”.
Keke was “styled”, if that is the word I am looking for, which it is is not, by “stylist”, if that is the word I am looking for, which it is manifestly is not, Maikeeb Kills. To be frank, Maikeeb is taking the piss. The fringed raffia Hawaiian bra, which does not seem up to the job, is not so much “Aloha, Aloha” as “Hehena”, which means “raving mad”.
To Paris Fashion Week and WTF regular Lewis Hamilton, wearing Givenchy.
Lewis is dressed as Don José, the toreador in a rollerblading version of Bizet’s Carmen.
This is Z-lister Lizzie Cundy en route to the National Television Awards in London, wearing Aashi.
Finally, we have the “star” of Geordie Shore, Marnie Simpson, wearing no knickers at the National Television Awards. WARNING!!! MIND HOW YOU GO!!!
AND HERE IS A WARNING TO GO WITH THE FIRST WARNING!!!
Oh God. Full-on 4HD vulvarama from this ghastly, rough-as-a-bear’s-arse no-mark. This would not even pass muster in Newcastle’s Bigg Market. Just. Go. Away.
This week’s It’s Got To Go arises from various outraged WTF aficionados who are appalled by the self-satisfied, smirking tub of lard that is Piers Morgan. He is now so firmly wedged up the Presidential rectum that it would take teams of fireman and medics to extract him, like a particularly pervy episode of Critical. First, when Ewan McGregor refused to be interviewed by him in protest at Morgan’s disparagement of the Women’s Marches, he launched a vitriolic attack on the actor in the Daily Mail, calling him a “pedophile-loving hypocrite” (a reference to McGregor once praising director Roman Polanski). Morgan then asked why women were complaining about being made to wear high heels at work as he had to wear makeup on TV. Finally, he offered May advice on her meeting with Trump as he was “the only Briton Trump follows on Twitter” and “If it’s all going horribly wrong, don’t hesitate to mention my name”. He has so Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. There was not a single comment last week and you know how this makes WTF plunge headlong into Stygian gloom. Don’t let it happen again. And don’t forget your suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x
Brilliant as always. Makes my Friday much more fun
are you going to do a special on the Inauguration balls? How about the misogyny of certain male designers – julien Macdonald for example and the execrable Tom Ford making a film featuring butchered women looking ‘beautiful’ with their blood smeared arses. So many people fawn to these vainglorious people I think they should be exposed
Gucci? Pity you’re not on Facebook WTF – there is a wonderful Simplicity Pattern for the 1970’s doing the rounds – would love to post it here. For those who can… https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10155738526859745&set=a.10150332831964745.411603.828404744&type=3&theater
Sean Spicer’s make up us so thick he looks like ten bob tart.
This week you have two of the things I hate most in the world; frosted pink lipstick, which even youngJoey Tempest from Europe (band, not continent) could make look good (though he tried, bless him) let alone a woman who looks like Bunny Campione in fancy dress as Napoleon, and toe cleavage. Poor Keke looks embarrassed but I think it’s more to do with the cake frill round her boobs than the fact that her feet don’t fit into her shoes.
The lack of comments to last week’s effort was partly your fault. Your analysis of the Brexit fallout was so complete and concise that I couldn’t think of anything to add. Any response I made would have been beyond “icing on the cake” and well into “icing on the icing”.
Mr. Trump’s presidency has begun with a bang. It has to be the biggest gift to political satirists since… uh… well, I think we are breaking new ground. “Alternative facts”? Mom used to make me sit in the corner for using them when I was young. Of course I didn’t grow up to be a malignant narcissist, and there may be a correlation.
A toreador from a “rollerblading version of Carmen”? I’m not well-versed in bullfighting, but I would think that putting a toreador on rollerblades would tend to favor the bull. Still, it sounds like it would be an interesting theatrical experience.
So Marnie Simpson is giving us a preview of full frontal nudity as fashion. Hallelujah! We are rapidly approaching the day when some starlet strolls down the red carpet wearing nothing but eight-inch stiletto heels and a tattoo with the name of her celebrity waxing technician/pubic hair stylist.