However one feels about Joe Biden, it’s disturbing to hear the latest news about his physical health. I wouldn’t wish prostate cancer (or any cancer) on anyone.
Sure, there are any number of people whose obituaries (as Clarence Darrow — in a quote often misattributed to Mark Twain — would say) I would read with great relish. I still enjoy being reminded, for example, that Yasser Arafat is dead. But all-in-all, no matter how reprehensible I might consider someone to be, I would rather see them swallowed by a sinkhole or run over by a cement truck than to wish cancer on them.
But the revelation that Biden has advanced, metastatic prostate cancer raises all manner of questions as to whether this condition, like his cognitive decline, was deliberately hidden and covered up by his “handlers,” “manipulators,” or “puppeteers” and their cohorts in the Democrat party, the press, and Hollywood.
Isn’t it far more likely that information about Biden’s physical health was deliberately hidden, rather than expecting us to believe that a man with unlimited access to the finest medical care would have his cancer “discovered” only at this late date?
Especially since he’s married to “an amazing doctor,” whom Whoopi Goldberg even proposed for the post of Surgeon General!
(I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.)
One has to hope that the sheer fishy-ness of Biden’s cancer just now coming to light will help unmask the machinations employed by those puppeteers to keep a doddering figurehead in office rather than risk relinquishing their power. And maybe laying bare those cynical conspiracies will cause a wising-up of some of the useful idiots who believe the propaganda that it is Donald Trump who is “a threat to our democracy.”
In those whose Trump Derangement Syndrome can actually be reversed, the exposure of all the lies told about Biden’s physical and mental health just might make the scales finally fall from their eyes. But I don’t really have very high hopes.
But one aspect of this that I haven’t yet seen discussed is how things would be different if the shoe were on the other foot. I think we all can imagine, however, what we would be seeing and hearing if it were Trump whose advanced cancer diagnosis had just been announced!
We would be awash in a deluge of people, from TV talking heads to social media and everywhere in between, who would be unable to contain or conceal their apoplectic glee at the news. Just as Trump Derangement Syndrome is a type of mass psychosis, all the Trump-haters would experience a mass schadenfreude overload.
The likes of Stephen Colbert and Robert DeNiro would be over the moon! Whoopi Goldberg, Joy Behar, and the other fishwives of The View would be in throes of ecstasy, like Meg Ryan’s performance at Katz’s Delicatessen in When Harry Met Sally, except that it would all be real!
And, just like in that famous scene, they would have had not a smidgen of embarrassment over expressing their extreme euphoria. In fact, they would be popping champagne corks and hugging one another! Nothing would please them more than to learn that Donald Trump had advanced cancer; it would be a gloat-fest! They would be celebrating like those Muslims on the New Jersey side of the Hudson River who danced in the streets and passed out candy while watching the smoke from the Twin Towers on 9/11.
So far, I haven’t heard of anyone even hinting at what I’m sure they’re all thinking, “It should’ve been Trump!” But we’ll see just how long they can keep those lips buttoned.
Author’s Note: Stu Tarlowe, a septuagenarian, is a raconteur, entrepreneur, chanteur, dilettante, boulevardier, chapeauté and amoureaux de chiens (and he doesn’t even speak French). He has, since 2010, contributed over 160 essays to American Thinker, most of which can be accessed here. He also writes a Substack newsletter, Stu’s Stack o’ Stuff (the name is an homage to Rush Limbaugh), published sporadically, which covers topics not limited to politics (and to which subscriptions are currently free). He is for hire as a columnist, proofreader and copyeditor.
