FROM THE GUT: The Cretin Hop
Gutfeld, Greg
FROM THE GUT The Cretin Hop by Greg Gutfeld E XCUSE ME, CAN I TAKE YOUR PICTURE?” The man asking this question is tattooed and lizard-like, dressed completely in black, with horribly...
...That would be more rebellious than, say, a woman with orange hair, cradling a dog with blue hair...
...The concert is open to all ages, but for the most part I see people in their 30s, trying to act like people in their 20s who think it’s the ’60s...
...Or worse, don’t see him...
...He continues to borrow money from friends (and never repays), while spending it on pot—and hasn’t cleaned the bathroom in years...
...My guess is no one here watches my show, or the Fox News Channel (where it airs)—but if they did, they wouldn’t admit it...
...He’s wearing a leather vest, under which his hairy belly has poked through...
...And it never helps...
...The man asking this question is tattooed and lizard-like, dressed completely in black, with horribly manicured facial hair...
...The other “others”—those who actually have to deal with him—want to dismember him with a dull butter knife...
...No, no, no… maybe it was, “Find something that people need, and make them pay for it...
...In one afternoon, as a cretin-identifier, I’ve nailed about seven or eight thousand...
...The thing I do well, and the thing I like doing, is identifying cretins...
...I pay him the cash for the beer...
...After all, we’re at an event sponsored by the Village Voice...
...Right-wingers and right-leaning libertarians would never think of screwing over their families and friends when it comes to financial or chore obligations...
...The California band We Are Scientists is just finishing its last song above a sea of nodding heads, and I realize I am surrounded by all the people in the world I hate...
...The joy found in identifying cretins: exposing those who use a protective stereotype to cloak their own cruelty...
...And there she is, standing in front of me, and the wretched dog is baking in the hot sun on a humid Saturday afternoon...
...It must be my vacation hat...
...That’s like a month’s work done in one evening...
...As the roadies break down the set, we make our way onto Surf Avenue to find booze...
...But if you ask him, he’ll describe himself as “selfless...
...I’m doing a photo story on sun glasses,” the freak adds, “and I really like yours...
...And not a hot dog...
...It doesn’t taste good, but it’s got to be loads better than what the man in front of me just ingested...
...We’re the rebels here...
...This is why, in any family where there is a problem child (or these days, problem adult)—the kind that squanders parental love and opportunity in a quest for self-aggrandizement—he or she is almost always an activist...
...Six bucks,” says the rough-looking gent behind the counter, busy poking at cobs of corn in a boiler...
...Well, aside from lining the pockets of thugs, fanatics, and dictators, I don’t have a clue...
...This is the Village Voice personified—pointing fingers at the man, signifying nothing...
...I learned how to do this best on the Huffington Post, the left-wing blog run by Arianna, the modern matriarch of moonbattery...
...The ones that don’t kill themselves are more corrosive, for they actually fulfill their promise to make an impact...
...If you can imagine making the sordid cheesiness of Coney Island worse, simply fill it with crusty hipsters in board shorts, wallet chains, and tats...
...And they can’t be...
...But then, of course, back home—he’s late on his rent, he doesn’t buy butter, and he eats all of his roommates’ food...
...Because, as I can see here today, they all hide behind a uniform...
...They’re all here at Coney Island, trying to appear edgy but looking desperately dull...
...We are standing in front of the Cyclone, an aging, mildly dangerous rollercoaster—which gives you an idea of where I might be...
...I should probably take a break and buy my wife dinner...
...It came in a long plastic glass shaped like a giant ear wash...
...In fact, they pride themselves on being completely, 100 percent dependable...
...By simply writing something that pointed out the folly of progressivism, or, more specifically, the inherent hypocrisy of an environmentalist flying on a private jet to give a speech about hybrid cars, the comments would range from personal threats to lurid comments about my family...
...I have never met these people face to face—but I know what they look like...
...The concert, featuring the New York Dolls—an aging punk outfit fronted by David Johanson, who is looking more and more like a decrepit Glenda Jackson—and MIA, a Sri Lankan hip hop artist, among others, has drawn a crowd of aging and semi-aging hipsters, all dressed or partially dressed in vintage surplus, leather, and twine...
...Me, I’m lining up for a Heineken, which, unlike the Cyclone, seems safe...
...GREG GUTFELD Someone famous once gave some very important career advice, which went something like, “Find something you do well, and do it the rest of your life...
...That’s why you need to identify them...
...A progressive is just a mugger who can’t afford a weapon...
...H ERE IS HOW A CRETIN IDENTIFIER does his job: He does or says something that causes outcry, anger, and threats from people who are almost always on the wrong side of everything...
...Or, maybe, he had a hot dog...
...I’ve had two, and I don’t feel so hot...
...For a minute there, I thought I had been recognized...
...And he or she almost always stinks...
...How has Bob Geldof ’s Live Aid assisted Africa...
...Through their charitable efforts, Geldof and Bono both have bought some pretty fancy cars for some really awful people...
...And they won’t record over your only copy of America’s Best Sports Bloopers...
...Then Josh approaches and orders the same thing...
...SEPTEMBER 2007 THE AMERICAN SPECTATOR 45...
...You can guess he works for a free paper, one he probably designs in a Port Authority restroom...
...I am, after all, the host of a television show that airs nightly...
...Perhaps he’s a victim of an excruciatingly bad mushroom trip...
...Maybe I look like an out-of-towner...
...The rest of these folks are impostors...
...And so I go out of my way to meet them, here at a Village Voice event on Coney Island...
...If it’s possible to actually create a frozen drink that arrives warm, we’ve found it—a strawberry daiquiri I’ve just bought my wife for ten bucks...
...And that’s the most comical irony of modern-day liberals: They are not nice...
...Damn...
...FROM THE GUT The Cretin Hop by Greg Gutfeld E XCUSE ME, CAN I TAKE YOUR PICTURE...
...My wife and I, along with Josh, are at the Village Voice Siren Festival, a free allday music event smack dab in the middle of the decaying emblem of family fun, Coney Island...
...I always say that there’s no one more dangerous or poisonous to a family than if one of the kin turns out to be progressive, or a Village Voicereader...
...All of these cretins like to pretend they’re unique, in their anti-Bush T-shirts, but Josh and I know better...
...Three bucks...
...They pay for their drinks, and they’ll take care of your plants when you’re away...
...Chicken wings...
...I wish I could remember, but maybe it’s a combination: “Find something you do well and get paid until you don’t want to do it anymore...
...The woman’s mascara is run44 THE AMERICAN SPECTATOR SEPTEMBER 2007 ning—and she now appears to be a weeping Goth about to make an animal sacrifice...
...I look around and see that the only people enjoying themselves are the families, oblivious to the concert, lining up to get on the Cyclone...
...That’s because they’re nice...
...He’ll say he only thinks of others, i.e., those he’s never met...
...The garish tattoos arrive in the thousands, revealing as always that sheepish conformity is alive and well among Voice readers...
...Something classier...
...The more downtown hip you look, the more of a jerk you are...
...Or cretins...
...That’s the definition of modern progressiveness: thinking globally, but screwing over everyone else locally...
...We both work at Fox News Channel...
...I like that one—because it probably likes me...
...My guess is this is just a ploy to get Josh’s phone number...
...I am a “cretin identifier,” an occupation that I am pretty certain anyone who writes for or reads The American Spectator also dabbles in, however unintentionally...
...See Abbie Hoffman...
...Or, wait, maybe it was, “Find something you like doing, and do that for the rest of your life...
...He will tell you, over the course of many hours, how important it is to have proper irrigation in Third World countries, and he will tell you how he is going to make that happen—probably by running a workshop at the Learning Annex...
...Greg Gutfeld, former editor of Maxim (UK), Men’s Health, and Stuff, is host of Red Eye on Fox News...
...That’ll work...
...A progressive must be tolerant of everyone and everything, and that turns them into witless monsters...
...I always say that there’s no one more dangerous or poisonous to a family than if one of the kin turns out to be progressive, or a Village Voice reader...
...But alas, this cretin was not asking me, but talking to my co-worker/pal Josh...
...After many years, however, their own self-belief wanes, and they kill themselves...
...A chunky punk in black garb, he’s cradling his face, which, to the casual observer, seems to be pulsating...
Vol. 40 • September 2007 • No. 7
