“He's not just delusional. He is not just narcissistic. Trump's behavior with the coronavirus pandemic is intentional. He is malevolent. He is a first-degree mass murderer.” — Dr. John Gartner, Professor of Psychiatry, Johns Hopkins University Medical School
His Evil is reinforced by his media consumption, malevolent Trump is (still) Evil, there's no other kind, except maybe Kerins and Charentes (see below). What’s worse is the Trump-Fox feedback loop where Trump’s tweets are shaped and derived from Fox News programming content. That loop conditions and reproduces malevolence.
President Donald Trump tweeted in response to television programs he was watching nearly 300 times in the first six months of 2020, according to a Media Matters review. More than nine in 10 of those tweets came in response to Fox News or its sister network, Fox Business, as the right-wing channels maintained their unprecedented influence over the federal government.
Trump’s obsession with Fox is well-documented. The president has stocked his administration with former Fox employees, invites its hosts to advise him on policy and politics, regularly praises his network supporters during public events and interviews, and lashes out whenever he finds its coverage less than adoring.
Since 2017, I’ve been studying what I call the Trump-Fox feedback loop, tracing the president’s often erratic and hyper-aggressive tweets back to the television programming that spurred them. Last year, as the president’s relationship with the right-wing networks drove federal policy and national politics, Trump sent at least 657 such live tweets in response to Fox News or Fox Business.
And the power of the Trump-Fox feedback loop is likely to increase in the days to come. The “rhetorical roots” of the president’s July 4 speech at Mount Rushmore are in Carlson’s recent monologues, according to Axios’ Jonathan Swan. “Trump's Independence Day speech lays a marker for how he's going to campaign through to November, according to campaign advisers,” he reported. “Perhaps no TV host has ever had such an influential role — whether Trump's team admits it or not — in defining a president's re-election message.”
— The Lincoln Project (@ProjectLincoln) July 13, 2020
Ã¢ÂÂ Corey Brettschneider (@BrettschneiderC) July 13, 2020
— Ã°ÂÂÂÃ°ÂÂÂ»Aunt Crabby calls Bullshit Ã°ÂÂÂÃ°ÂÂÂ» (@DearAuntCrabby) July 14, 2020
Ã¢ÂÂ Frank Figliuzzi (@FrankFigliuzzi1) July 14, 2020
Ã¢ÂÂ Mayor Bill de Blasio (@NYCMayor) July 13, 2020
— Open Culture (@openculture) July 14, 2020
It’s not about the name as much as it is an identifiable agency and structure that has existed since slavery.
Ã¢ÂÂ Slate (@Slate) July 14, 2020
S3: This is Decoder Ring, a show about cracking cultural mysteries. I, Willa Paskin, every episode we take on a cultural question, habit or idea. Crack it open and try to figure out what it means and why it matters. Karen is a relatively new term of her particularly pernicious white woman who has been described as the policewoman of all human behavior. She’s the type who belittles service employees demanding to speak to the manager, who wants to personally mandate others responses to the coronavirus and who most of all surveils people of colors every move, notoriously calling the cops on black people for having barbecues, selling water, birdwatching in Central Park. Just for existing white women who do these things, who have done these things are for the most part, not actually named Karen, but they’re Kerins nonetheless. On today’s episode, we’re going to look at how the name Charente came to signify all of this. The answer encompasses the terms specific, relatively recent origins online, the crucible of the coronavirus, and a much longer history that involves a number of other names that black people have used to describe dangerous white women. So today on Decoder Ring, where does the Karen come from?
S5: If you are alive in America right now, you have a likely heard a Karen in action.
S8: Friends. Look at the numbers and tell me why everybody’s living in fear. Tell me where we’re putting these things on and not being able to breathe.
S3: It’s OK. I’m sorry. Apologized. It’s my fault, you know. You know what? That didn’t upset me a bit. Sorry. She called police on an eight year old little girl. You cried, hide all you want. The whole world unfeasible and illegally selling water without a permit on my property.
S5: In that first video, a white woman is trying to police every single person dealing with the Corona virus. In the second one is scolding an immigrant cab driver. And then the last one is calling the cops on a little black girl for selling water. This is just a tiny sampling of the hours and hours of Carrin videos you can find online right now. And though the widespread availability of videos like this is relatively new, the behavior they capture is not the Karen who’s been with us for a long time, even if she only recently got her name. So that’s we’re going to start with Karen before the Karen.
S7: There’s a history in American culture. I’m really thinking about the role that white women have in racial oppression, systematic racial oppression and charity.
S9: Hubley is a professor of linguistics at the University of California, Santa Barbara.
S7: And so you can trace throughout black culture the use of these symbolic white names to describe these roles and experiences that black people have. And this goes all the way back to those times when people weren’t slaves.
S9: These No-Name Mishan Miss and is maybe the oldest of these names of the Proteau carats. And it originally described the mothers, wives, daughters, sisters of slave owners.
S7: But it’s really that we invested in watching and patrolling to make sure that enslaved people were doing the work they were supposed to do and then in patrolling their entire being from day, day and night.
S5: Ms. And stayed in use long after emancipation and out through the civil rights movement. And it had a male counterpart, Mr. Charlie, which originally referred to a slave owner who became slang for basically any white man. Both Mr. Charlie and Mishan were in group terms that black people used with one another and that white people weren’t always aware of. You can see all this worked with Mishan, a song from Little Richard’s self-titled 1956 album.