Citizens of the world were introduced to ambassadors Fiona Hill and David Holmes today. A few observations:
Women who testified in the impeachment hearings have been framed as fragile creatures worthy only of our sympathy. From Jennifer Williams, who was clearly uncomfortable being trotted out in front of the cameras merely to reiterate that she found the call “unusual,” to Marie Yovanovitch, over whose routine and legal loss of post as ambassador led to the gnashing of Dem teeth.
Never mind that she landed a cushy fellowship at Georgetown, the point is that she would have “preferred” to retain her ambassadorship. Yovanovitch cried during closed-door depositions, but failed to do so for the cameras, certainly to the great chagrin of Adam Schiff, who Tweet-shamed her on live TV.
Enter Fiona Hill. First impressions matter, and what I noticed immediately: she was seated behind a placard reading “Dr. Hill,” a preening Ph.D who insists on being called “Doctor.” What is it with State Department puffery? It wasn’t as much of a peacock moment as Alex Vindman insisting “it’s Lt. Colonel Vindman”, but it’s the same sensitive ego ballpark.
From there, we were regaled with a Dickensian tale of woe. Doctor Hill grew up poor. Doctor Hill’s father was a coal miner. Doctor Hill had a Durham County accent that would have held her back professionally in the UK. Some tender young hooligan lit the future Doctor Hill’s pigtail on fire during a grade school test. Doctor Hill extinguished the fire and finished her test. Doctor Hill’s mother had to give her a bowl cut as a result. Doctor Hill was criticized by–gasp–Roger Stone on InfoWars. (And look at you now, Roger!)
Do you see the pattern? The female witnesses have been cast as vessels for our tears: How dare they put a poor woman up there? When in fact, almost all the witnesses were subpoenaed by Democrats. It’s a shameful, vicious cycle born of leftist victim culture, fueled by identity politics, which abjures the tenets of fundamental feminism.
Smarmy David Holmes
David Holmes started strong but faded down the stretch. In the parts he knew to rehearse in his mirror, he was able to maintain the veneer of a serious statesman quite convincingly. From his opening statement and well into the cross-examination by Dem and GOP counsel, Holmes kept his poker face.
When Rep. John Ratcliffe grilled Holmes on the rest of the now infamous “he loves your ass” cell phone call with Gordon Sondland, Holmes stuttered and appeared lost, despite claiming that the call was one of the “most memorable moments of my life.” Suddenly, Holmes couldn’t even remember how the call began, despite providing details as minute as the memory of being seated at four-top table that was comprised of two adjoined two-tops.
Chairman Schiff conjured up a good show of righteous anger to close the proceedings, crying “We are better than that!” while blinking back near-tears before adjourning for the day with a hard rap of his gavel.
For a minute there, it almost looked like acting.
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