“I don’t know what I want, but I want it now.”
That 70s rock classic from the Raspberries was described by its author Eric Carmen as a “teen frustration anthem.”
Today it’s back as a MAGA soundtrack.
And it’s all about Jeffrey Epstein again. Just a month short of the sixth anniversary of his death in a prison cell, Epstein is all the rage again among Trump cultists for whom rage is the default setting.
On July 6, 2019, Epstein was arrested at a New Jersey airport upon returning from Paris. Two days later the feds unsealed an indictment alleging he ran a multi-state sex trafficking ring, abusing dozens of underage girls between 2002 and 2005.
Fifteen days later, Epstein was found injured and semi-conscious in his jail cell — initially ruled a possible suicide attempt. Eighteen days after that — on August 10 — he was found dead in his cell. It was again treated as a suicide, an explanation that raised eyebrows among many and sprung an entire cottage industry of new conspiracy theorists.
The MAGA firestorm that ensured was unprecedented. This was proof positive of everything demented theory ever uttered about Bill and Hillary Clinton — and for that matter, Barack Obama — even though he wasn’t even remotely part of the story.
Yes, MAGA was hellbent on getting to the bottom of this story, especially since it could at last bring down the Clintons, all their Hollywood Communist pals and the dozens of well-known figures known to have cavorted with Epstein.
That list was headed by Bill Clinton, Prince Andrew and Donald Trump.
Well, not so much Trump.
The theories that Epstein was murdered to protect powerful elites left Trump off the suspect list. Personally, with no dog in the fight, that seemed reasonable enough to me.
Besides, how could Trump have anything to fear? Why, immediately after Epstein’s death, Trump took the somber presidential step of retweeting a post suggesting Clinton was involved. Also, it was claimed by Trump acolytes that he kicked Epstein out of Mar-a-Lago. There’s no record of that, but so what?
All of this proved Trump’s innocence of having anything to do with Epstein. In fact, it even exposed as fake news a New York Magazine story from October 28, 2002, in which Trump stated about Epstein, according to the fake interviewer:
“I’ve known Jeff for 15 years. Terrific guy,” Trump booms from a speakerphone. “He’s a lot of fun to be with. It is even said that he likes beautiful women as much as I do, and many of them are on the younger side. No doubt about it — Jeffrey enjoys his social life.”
With Trump so clearly having removed himself from the story, MAGA could focus on more important matters, such as determining whether the scandal consumed every Democratic politician in America, or just most of them.
And it spawned the search for The List.
If I understand this part correctly, The List is a client list, but not your everyday accused pedophile’s client list, since Epstein was a prominent financier of the rich and famous. And lots of them showed up — mostly benignly — on flight logs from his private planes and all sorts of other sources.
No, The List was assumed to be some sort of dishonor roll of people who partied hard with Epstein. Or perhaps a self-incriminating “pedophiles like me” catalog.
I don’t really understand that part. So I was among the people not stunned on July 1 when Attorney General Pam Bondi announced her Epstein probe had found no charges to file and no client list to release.
Then again, I’m not Laura Loomer or Steve Bannon, both of whom have been melting down on social media in real time. So I prefer to sit back and enjoy the collective MAGA tantrum — one that brings back fond memories of my children taking part in pre-school soccer games that quickly devolved into delightful scrums.
But the audience for this one isn’t comprised of cheering parents. It boasts MAGA influencers, MAGA faithful, MAGA feuders, and an awkward gaggle of Democrats who can’t quite figure out whether to engage, deflect, or duck.
And, of course, the media, which cannot discern if this is a MAGA civil war, a distraction, a dark comedy, or a moment in history demanding deep reflection into the nation’s collective soul.
I don’t know what the hell this is — and for the most part, I don’t care.
But in a political world where nothing makes sense anymore, this particular tantrum seems absurd and irrational enough as to pose a problem for Trump.
For no particular reason, this one might stick.
- Ray Hartmann is a veteran journalist, best known as the founder of the Riverfront Times and a longtime outspoken columnist and commentator. His writings can be found at https://rayhartmann.substack.com/.
