There were also super dark-gray heroes, like infamous bank robber Baby Face Nelson and the first celebrity politician, Pappy O’Daniel. Such folks were lauded alongside John Goodman’s Cyclops and Holly Hunter’s Penelope from Homer’s epic poem.
The mixture made the movie both cerebral and fun!
Sifting through old classics before her high school graduation (a bit of a rite), I recently picked O’ Brother Where Art Thou to watch with my 17-year-old daughter. As the tale unfolded, she remarked that the politico, Pappy O’Daniel, seemed a lot like Trump. KKK Grand Wizard leader Homer Stoke’s political speech before the attempt to hang our Crossroad deal-making pal also had shades of Trump’s most recent tirades.
Homer’s speech below as Found on Villians Fandom:
Brothers! Oh, brothers! We have all gathered here to preserve our hallowed culture and heritage from intrusion, inclusion, and dilution of color, of creed, and of hometown religion! We aim to pull evil up by the roots before it chokes out the flower of our culture and heritage! And our women, let's not forget those ladies yall, looking to us for protection from darky, from Jew, from Papist, and from all those smartass folk, who say we come descendant from monkey! That's not my culture and heritage! Is that your culture and heritage!? And so, we're gunna hang us a negro ~ Homer Stokes talking to his Klansmen.
Imagine that—an individual playing a KKK Grand Wizard (snickers at the title of Grand Wizard) said words so similar to Trump’s rally speeches that my 17-year-old caught it.
Ya’ll, Trump ain’t just biting off Hitler; he is also using a time-worn page from a political playbook that utilizes tropes, stereotypes, and fear of Others to advance an agenda.
Folks did it cuz it worked
Pappy O’Daniel is known as the first celebrity politician, and Trump is a chip off this old block. Like Trump, the man became stinking rich, but instead of hotels, Pappy ran a successful flour company. During the height of The Great Depression, he used radio jingles featuring the slogan “Please pass the biscuits, Pappy,” to propel himself into the national spotlight.
After creating brand trust, O’Daniel used his fame and money to enter into politics, where he failed to do a damn thing he promised while campaigning. In spite of this, Pappy won his way into the Governor’s mansion before his death in 1969.
Sound familiar?
Smart types scoffed. Politicians and reporters said Pappy’s crowds came for the circus. But battered Texans yearned for something new. In the Democratic primary, against 11 rivals, Pappy got 51 percent, taking the nomination in a state where Republicans didn’t count.
….
“Almost totally ignorant of the mechanics of government, O’Daniel proved unwilling to make even a pretense of learning, passing off the most serious problems with a quip,” wrote historian Robert Caro. “He offered few significant programs in any area, preferring to submit legislation that he knew could not possibly pass and then blame the legislature for not passing it.”
…
Running for reelection in 1940, Pappy traded 1938’s optimism for tirades about “poison-pen editors” and “pin-headed legislators” and “communist labor leader racketeers.” He won, beating six opponents in the Democratic primary.
See what he did there?
Populists and Nationalists tend to rise during political unrest as struggling people grow socially cynical and fed up. Charming sociopaths seeking power promise to fix everything and take on “pinheaded legislators,” managing to fool poor people into believing rich dudes are their champions and will solve all their problems.
The gentle promise of an easy fix to complicated issues is alluring, especially when you toss the right to hate on groups you despise. This is why MAGA types will defend their champion until the end, even if said champion is the biggest do-nothing parasite of all.
MAGAsplainin’: why they do it
Ever try to tell a friend who has fallen deeply in love that their significant other is cheating on them? How did it go? Nine times out of ten, not so great.
Why do people rail against truth?
The issue here is a promise.
The promise of something good, something better.
Something that gets them out of the darkness of their lives because, from where they sit, no one else is helping them, and they don’t have the tools to do it alone.
They soon become emotionally invested in any argument that helps them hang on to their delusions at all costs—even when the things they continue to believe make no sense or can’t be backed up with facts.
Hello, Dunning-Kruger effect.
Far too often, for instance., when you try to tell MAGA supporters that Trump committed fraud, they will explain to you, usually in the most expert tone they can muster, that everything you have seen or been told is a lie. You simply don’t understand how big business is run, the guy who works at Piggly Wiggly will assert.
Either 1) your facts are in error, 2) this is a witch hunt, or 3) the judge hates their guy and is out to get ‘im.
The latter reaction is kinda like the friend who screams you are just jealous they got themselves a man, and you don’t. They never have proof of their claims, while you have many facts to support yours.
Their reaction is emotional and irrational, based on fear and desperation. Many wealthy political parasites have also groomed their base to see their hero’s downfall as their own, so they take these so-called assaults personally.
Besides, if their guy doesn’t have all the answers—who does? How can they escape that darkness without the light of the “relationship” they have come to depend on?
CONTINUE ON SUBSTACK HERE: