When asked by Big Government to review Greg Gutfeld’s "The Bible of Unspeakable Truths," my response was instantaneous: “Why me, Lord?”
Alas, we mere mortals can but abide His infinite wisdom – God’s not Gutfeld’s. Resigned, I shouldered the onus of reading the late night jackanape’s scatological tome. Afterwards, I showered…alone…in a hair shirt…and then burned it to commence my decontamination and atonement.
Oddly, no matter how hard I scoured his book and myself, the indelible fact remained – Gutfeld’s Unspeakable Truths is, in his idiosyncratic idiom, “Supersexyawesome!”
Oh, it’s not because of his solipsistic obsession with his weight, nasty habits, backrubs, pool boys, unicorns, backrubs from pool boys riding unicorns, or his feigned interest in Ms. Megan Fox, whom he importunes to call him. [Ms. Fox: Do NOT call Gutfeld.] Rather, it’s because, at root, Gutfeld is a philosophical conservative mud wrestling with a chaotic world rife with inane Leftists, all of whom he endeavors to foist by their own petard (or by the trapeze set in his “rumpus room”).
Gutfeld’s eclectic, authentic conservatism stems from an unshakeable faith in his fellow Americans’ common sense ability to self-govern – of which, admittedly, he is the exception that proves the rule. To wit, in his assay, “You’re Leading the Country Right Now,” Gutfeld chases to the cut:
“Let’s review the folks currently on the bad side of the White House: …the Americans who stepped up to the plate…someone had to step up and say, ‘Hold on there, pal.’ And that someone is America.”
From this principled perch, the pithy miscreant tosses off a succinct obituary lamenting the demise of the last Republican majority:
“Republicans are losers because after fourteen years in power, all they stood for was their own power and complacency. Democrats picked up seats not because suddenly America fell in love with liberalism. The only idea Democrats had was this one: We aren’t Republicans! For now, that’s more than enough!”
Even to our calloused culture’s ears, does not Gutfeld’s elegy for a callow, discarded Republican “permanent majority” kindle the echoes of King Lear’s fool: “Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise”?
I didn’t think so either.
Yet that furry ball of vitriol’s fudge and Franzia-fueled animus is dumped not only upon his own ilk. Gutfeld also figuratively (and, per court documents, literally) accosts the media, celebrities, hippies, greenies, pacifists, whales, and sundry other Leftist antagonists. And, in a bold stroke for freedom, he condemns terrorists. How outré!
Unlike other political pundits, however, Gutfeld’s whimsical dithyrambs rock precisely because he disdains the “talking head game,” in which some cunning hucksters portray themselves as an indispensible font of “THE TRUTH” and, coincidentally, are paid millions of dollars to protect you from exploitation by everyone – except them. Again I ask you: by couching conservative truths in comedic rags (i.e., the pages of Unspeakable Truths), does not Gutfeld play the fool to the GOP’s King Lear?
“But I will tarry; the fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly:
The knave turns fool that runs away;
The fool no knave, perdy.”
(If you don’t know what the archaic “perdy” means, best to assume it’s a good thing.)
For our pint-sized provocateur, therein lies the rub: his conservative humor is sharp and hip – Republicanism with a human face. Unfortunately, as with the 1980’s GOP Establishment’s less than enthused reception of P.J. O’Rourke’s seminal work Republican Party Reptile, today’s starchy-Cons react to Gutfeld’s Unspeakable Truths akin to how Red Eye fans would recoil at William Howard Taft in “the leg chair.” (Au contraire, within his first five minutes on Red Eye, TR would stuff and mount Bill Schulz as an exotic wall hanging – “Bully!”)
Epitomizing the uncouth mirth that discomfits the Grand Old Party-Poopers, thrice in Unspeakable Truths the chubby vulgarian uncorks his heretofore little used weapon in the struggle to save America: the lemur.
First, in “Even Liberals Will Do What They Can to Get out of Paying Taxes,” Gutfeld pimps the marsupial to castigate liberals’ for their hypocrisy regarding taxation:
“Had (the Rolling Stones) paid the usual amount (meaning what every other British citizen [sic – Brits are subjects of the crown; where’s Andy Levy the one time you need him?] who buys their crappy CD pays), it would have been roughly 180 million bucks. Which is what Mick Jagger spends on collagen injections (culled from a rare breed of albino alpaca) and his lemur farm. He eats a live one every morning for breakfast, you know.” [Sir Mick: Do NOT call Gutfeld.]
Next, in “Panda’s Want Nothing to Do with Us, or With Pandas, for That Matter,” Gutfeld then has something to do with Pandas and lemurs to render an indictment against anthropomorphism:
“Look, if I was drunk and at the zoo, attacking a panda would not be my first choice. I am more a fan of lemurs, simply because they look an awful lot like Jude Law. All one of those marsupials needs is a scarf, and it is the splitting image of the British actor.” [Mr. Law: Do NOT call Gutfeld.)
Then, in an obvious case of hating what one can’t have, a frenzied Gutfeld delivers the fiendish coup de grace to celebrity in general during his screed, “It’s Our Job to Tell Celebrities When It’s Time to Retire”:
“Am I not alone in thinking that she should retire from public view and get a job as a real estate agent? [Gutfeld then describes a depraved act in a workmanlike fashion.] This is a common fantasy I have with real estate agents. It actually doesn’t have to include Tara Reid (feel free to substitute ‘lemur’).” [Ms. Reid and Mr. Lemur: Do NOT call Gutfeld.]
Now, the questions which beg answers: what is a lemur and why does Gutfeld love them (platonically, we pray)?
According to the Columbia Encyclopedia, Sixth Edition of 2008, the lemur is a lower primate inhabiting Madagascar. The “monkeylike” Lemur has long limbs, a bushy tail, pointed muzzle, large eyes and its second toes have “a stout claw.” An agile animal, the rude beast grows to be roughly 4 feet in length and, when not foraging in trees or on the ground, the lemur “engage(s) in social grooming.” Bye the bye, the lemur is “active both by day and by night”; eats “leaves, fruits, eggs, and insects and other small animals”; and “some build nests of leaves and branches in trees.”
Now we wind the miasmatic scent of the unspeakable truth behind Gutfeld’s lemur fever. Verily, it is the most unspeakable truth that is so unspeakably true it could not be included in Unspeakable Truths for fear it might unwittingly become a spoken unspeakable truth by a Red Eye fan whose lips move when he reads (namely, Rep. Jack Kingston). This unspeakable truth is…
Gutfeld is a lemur!
But he’s not just any lemur. He’s flown (coach). Hence, Gutfeld is a flying lemur!
Again, ala Algore on global warming, the Columbia Encyclopedia “ends the debate”: “The flying lemur is brownish or grayish above and paler below… The animal (glides) from tree to tree; (so) the flying lemur does not truly fly… It sleeps by day and forages at dusk. Flying lemurs…belong to an order of their own.”
Yes, the ordering of one’s soul: the foundation of all self-government; and the ultimate protection against the siren song of big government. No, I didn’t glean this insight from Unspeakable Truths, unless Gutfeld plagiarized Aristotle’s Unmentionable Musings for Hellenic Lemurs.
What I did catch from my prolonged exposure to Unspeakable Truths is this syllogism, which can’t be cured with penicillin:
Gutfeld is a lemur and a conservative;
I read Gutfeld’s “Lemur-Con” book The Bible of Unspeakable Truths without retching or regret (mostly); ergo,
That “Mini-Me” version of Dr. Moreau, Gutfeld, turned me into a “Lemur-Con”!
You’ve been warned….
