Just Let Me Float Out Into the Sea

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So it’s come to this.


We all know how this is going to go. Guthrie is going to ask Sandmann if he is a bad person, and he is going to say, “No, I’m actually a good person,” or whatever the Republican PR firm his parents hired tell him to say, and Guthrie is going to ask, “How did it feel,” and he will say, “I was really scared.” She might ask, “What about the kids doing the tomahawk chop?” He’ll probably say, “Well I wasn’t, and that was wrong.”

Guthrie likely won’t ask, “You and your friends were wearing MAGA hats, a universal symbol of white supremacy, isn’t that kind of an issue?” If you’re Guthrie, a Mainstream Journalist, you are not allowed to treat the MAGA hat for what it really is. She likely won’t ask, “You were this huge crowd of boys, high on your own testosterone, filled with obvious hate, who surrounded an elderly Native American veteran and taunted him with racist gestures, why in the world should anyone be sympathetic towards you?” White teenage boys always get sympathy in America. She likely won’t ask, “Why shouldn’t we believe what we all saw with our own eyes?” The official position now is that what we saw with our own eyes was wrong.

Will anyone on the opposite side of this story—Nathan Phillips, for instance—be interviewed? I guess we’ll find out. But Nick Sandmann’s journey of lucrative victimhood is now well on its way. He will be a star at every Republican gathering for the next five years. He’ll probably meet the president. He’s set for life. Another great American story.

Deputy Editor, Splinter