
"I was never mocking anyone," Trump told the Times. He did so again when The New York Times asked him about Streep's speech. Trump was not disciplined enough to avoid looking like a cruel eighth-grader, but he is smart enough to understand that he did not come off well in that episode, which is why he has repeatedly insisted it was not what it looked like. And when the powerful use their position to bully others, we all lose. Disrespect invites disrespect violence incites violence. And this instinct to humiliate, when it's modeled by someone in the public platform, by someone powerful, it filters down into everybody's life, because it kinda gives permission for other people to do the same thing. It kind of broke my heart when I saw it, and I still can't get it out of my head, because it wasn't in a movie. Someone he outranked in privilege, power and the capacity to fight back. It was that moment when the person asking to sit in the most respected seat in our country imitated a disabled reporter. It made its intended audience laugh, and show their teeth. But it was effective, and it did its job. Not because it was good there was nothing good about it.


There was one performance this year that stunned me. I basically agree with the heart of Streep's speech, which recalled Trump's mockery of New York Times reporter Serge Kovaleski's physical disability as a revealing low point of the president-elect's campaign: Streep, who opened by saying she had lost her voice "in screaming and lamentation this weekend," offered some accurate criticism of Trump but wrapped it in a condescending, self-congratulatory package of progressive smugness.

backlash that helps explain the billionaire bully's improbable rise as a truth-telling champion of the common man. Accepting a lifetime achievement award at yesterday's Golden Globes ceremony, Meryl Streep demonstrated once again the uncanny ability of anti-Trump celebrities to alienate potential allies while reinforcing the anti-P.C.
