This post is not about HBO’s “Succession,” that vile descent into the soiled underbelly of the world belonging to the One Percent. Succession is one of those shows you watch and smugly assert, “See, they are just like the rest of us,” despite the fact they really aren’t like the rest of us. Their human leanings and foibles are like ours, but the comparison ends there. Billionaire media moguls are nothing like us. We are the same rough human template, but their elite environment removes them from any existence that we, as regular folks, could ever contextualize.
We share conflicts, weaknesses, egotistical drives and sensitivities, but each zero on their income statements exponentially magnifies the measure of threat. Each insignificant slight or skewed perception belonging to the One Percent is a mammoth event that is more costly on a level most of us don’t earn in a year. They are nothing like us and lots has been written about the show’s treatment of them since it’s season 3 premiere a few weeks ago.
I want to talk about a scene from yesterday’s airing of episode 4.
As with all families, inheritances and greed exploit the most distasteful aspects of our nature; in the case of Logan Roy, the 80-ish Murdochian mogul, and his hot mess of a son, Kendall, the family multi-billion dollar media empire is at stake. Such a gargantuan financial albatross is accompanied by a proportional familial dose of ruthlessness and avarice. With the Roy’s, son and father have turned against each other. Despite their genetic union, they have become Machiavellian adversaries. Kendall made a blatant, bold power move a few episodes ago and they are confronting each other for the first time as they hike along a dirt path on the property belonging to a majority shareholder.
<Me: donning offended, histrionic face>
What did the old white devil say?
Spic? Excuse me?
How dare he. How dare HBO! I’m canceling my subscription.
I’ll organize a march, a rally, maybe some burning and mayhem. I’ll see to it that the media climbs aboard and the ensuing national clamor will result in a furious dialogue centered around the trials and tribulations of Hispanics in America. Mainstream pop culture (Woketards) will rally to our defense. Anti-Hispanic slurs will become culturally blasphemous!
Uh, none of this will happen.
I don’t give a damn and most Hispanics don’t. Even the ones who do give a damn don’t succumb to the shamelessness required to exploit such racial vulnerabilities, so we shut up and let the rich man Spic us. Hispanics don’t whine well so we provide an easy escape hatch for Woke society to act artistically genuine by teeing up anti-Hispanic slurs under the pretense of realism despite the fact you won’t see such slurs levied against other ethnic groups in mainstream scripts. Even in the meta context of a script’s fictional boundaries that capitalizes on the Woke’s disdain for old white men, you won’t see slurs aimed against other ethnic flavors of the month. You won’t hear Logan Roy preferring to get “fucked by a kike/nigger/gook/rag-head/nip/chink/camel jockey in a shower block,” but Spics are fair game.
Woketards modulate the acceptable parameters of tolerant mainstream culture. HBO, once home to The Sopranos, Oz, The Wire, and other bastions of unapologetic race blindness of that genuine, unromantic sort, has been swallowed by the great diversity Whale.