The Seven Stages of Bernie’s Suckers - The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
The Seven Stages of Bernie’s Suckers

You poor saps. You went to bed with Bernie, and woke up with Hillary. You wanted a relationship, and all he wanted was a one-night stand. He promised you a revolution, but never used his weapons. So now you are standing at the altar betrayed by your runaway groom, wondering where did it all go wrong. Disillusioned and frightened, left alone by a party that betrayed you and a groom who abandoned you.

Waking up the next day with the little sleep you got, wondering if the relationship was real, wondering if he ever cared about you in the first place, thinking was anything he said the truth? I’m sorry to tell you, the answer is no. So, as you are in shock and disbelief going through the first six of the seven stages of grief at once, let me try and console you the best way that I can, so that you can get to acceptance. Or, at the very least, acceptance and anger.

To come to acceptance we must not only look at the other’s part, we truly have to look at our own. But, since the cut and betrayal is so fresh, let’s just look at his part. Nothing wrong with a little justifiable anger. So, let’s take a shallow look at the man who promised you everything.

I know to you he was an anomaly, a phenomenon, a kooky Brooklyn socialist who told it like it was. But, let me tell you who this kooky Brooklyn socialist really is and was. Growing up in Brooklyn as I did, people like Bernie were a dime a dozen. Every street corner, temple, and laundromat has a Bernie. There was always the Bernie in temple screaming the dues were too high, screaming that every week there should be a free (Kiddush) meal, after services were done. The kids, including myself, loved Bernie. He was sticking it to the (rabbis) man. What was Bernie going to say next? Every week was temple and a show. You could always hear Bernie too. As people were praying, he was groaning; as families were wishing each other well, he was grabbing the last of the poor shlubs who would still listen and complain about his job, or his perceived state of the nation. As a kid, of course, I found this funny and cute, and couldn’t understand why my father didn’t. My father would call him a (letz) person who needs to grow up, and I just thought my dad wasn’t cool and hip.

The older and older I got, the less I found what Bernie said to be cute or funny. I started finding it rude to interrupt people while they were talking, rude to scream at the rabbi about free lunch while he was speaking. I realized that Bernie screamed so much that his screams became silent. I realized that all those meals after temple were paid for by hardworking people. I realized that the lights and air conditioning weren’t free. I realized that those that couldn’t afford the dues were given scholarships by the people Bernie was mocking. And most of all, I realized that the loudest mouth in the room was one of those that was given those scholarships. That’s when I realized who the cool people in the room really were.

Truth is, I’ve obviously been thinking about this all along. But, as we all know, there is never a good time to tell your friend that you don’t like their partner, that is until the relationship is over. And even if you don’t believe your relationship is over, and you still think he’s coming back, let me tell you my brothers and sisters, he’s moved on. You think your $27 is enough to sustain his egomaniacal insatiable appetite. It has only grown larger, because that’s what happens to revolutionaries the bigger they get. Trust me, my brothers and sisters, you don’t have enough money to cover his future speaking engagement. Only fellow collaborators like George Soros do.

There is nothing revolutionary about this; in fact it’s revolting. I dare you, right now, to tell me one revolutionary thing Bernie has done other than revolt. You think Bernie is a tough guy sticking it to the man, but no, Bernie is the guy that gets from the man, then complains that it’s not enough. The only thing that separates your Bernie and my Bernie is that mine retired to Del Boca Vista, and yours found a tiny town in Vermont that found his shtick amusing. So, as your relationship is now over, and he stuck you at the altar with the bill and let’s be real he was never going to pick up the bill, and it’s 2 a.m., the bars are all closed, and you’ve given up any hope that he’s going to come back to you, and the realization is setting in that he was never there with you in the first place.

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