They say he has beheld the weenies of the field and found them wanting — no, dangerously feeble, limp, insipid, deluded unto a kind of hebephrenia — and now, just maybe, Michael “Mike” Bloomberg will don the old steel breastplate and Kevlar jockstrap, take up the lance, and sally forth in a Lincoln Navigator to slay the Golden Golem of Greatness stalking the land… the last Great Hope of the Boomer Gen! That’s the scuttlebutt, anyway, or maybe more like a fevered dream of the restive elites stewing in their private equity aeries amid all this bothersome talk of wealth confiscation far out in the primary state flyover thickets.
...
Of course, at 77, Mike also represents the arch-hobgoblin of Wokesterism, the religion of the neo-Jacobins, namely, old white men — the horror and effrontery! The ultimate slap-in-the-face to all those roistering trans-humans on campus, the lame, the halt, the mis-gendered, the perpetually victimized, the intersectionally oppressed, the over-phoned! Will they stand for this billionaire ringer being sent into combat by all those top-hatted, silk-stockinged villains of Capital? More precisely, will Bernie call “foul,” as he kind of failed to do in 2016 after Hillary’s DNC stooges flooded-the-zone and drowned him in super-delegates? Will Elizabeth Warren break out in a war dance? Will Hillary find a way to deliver 7.5 grams of lead to Mike’s medulla oblongata?
...