By Olivia Pierson

I try not to read the NZ Herald.  This national news outlet’s level of journalism is just too left of low to be borne.  But sometimes Facebook shoves things in one’s face via its newsfeed which serve as timely reminders as to why one doesn’t indulge.

Is it just me, or are the women columnists of the Herald on the verge of a spiritual collapse?  I thought feminist thinking was meant to make women stronger.  Alas, if the female 'journalists' of the Herald are anything to go by, the trend is that women are turning into serial emotional cot-cases of subjective projection - and because they are given a national platform, they insist on spraying the rest of the country in vacuous pop-psyche as they shake out their soppy wet coats in a weekly bitch-o-rama.

Back in August, Deborah Hill Cone wrote an op-ed titled “Danger! There's a toddler in charge", where she displayed that not only does she not understand the first thing about US politics, but she indulges in armchair psychologising so shameless it could make Oprah blush.  Here’s a little excerpt: 

   "I know Trump's personality disorder has been extensively diagnosed by sofa shrinks the world over, but that was before we realised he would equivocate in consoling a nation following a white nationalist march that included a Nazi flag and a murder of the innocent. Something has shifted and it is terrifying. We have put a baby in charge of the free world. Babies fart and burp, put everything in their mouth, crawl backwards, gag and don't have a conscience. I love babies but I worry when one is in the White House.”

Ms. Hill Cone is conscious that Trump has been the object of numerous “sofa shrinks” psychobabbling about his “personality disorder” so she quickly drops right on in to dish out her own psychobabble - and gets it spectacularly wrong (this is now a compulsory requirement in order to be paid by the NZ Herald).

She is referring to the events at Charlottesville, where Antifa (the fascist so-called antifascist violent Left-wing group) came with knives, guns and knuckledusters to attack Unite the Right protesters, who considered the planned removal of a Robert E Lee statue unAmerican because such statues are visible acknowledgements of America’s complex and dramatic history. If the victorious President Lincoln could forgive the defeated General Lee, why the hell can’t the rest of America let Lee's statue stand as testament? And who are these tyrants on the Left insisting America rip down her statues and commemorations because they no longer fit with PC narratives?  Destroying statues and book burnings are exactly in keeping with Nazi - and all other totalitarian - regimes.   Ms. Hill Cone should know this.  President Trump knew enough to condemn both sides for breaking out into violence.

With this awfully trite habit of psychologising, Ms. Hill Cone has turned from an intellectual bully into an emotional one.  I think the intellectual bully was preferable, because now what passes for her commentary in the Herald is more akin to being slapped in the face by a fistful of wet noodles. 

But it all gets a little clearer when only two days ago, Hill Cone opens her latest article titled “Confessions of a reformed right-winger”  with this:

   “It's Trump. It's heartbreak. It's getting old. It's three years of therapy twice a week. It's being humbled. It's realising your rinky-dink life isn't everyone's experience. It's having your consciousness raised that the intergenerational transmission of trauma is a real thing. It's loving something more than yourself. It's having a bucket of shit fall on your head.”

Just as all bad poetry is sincere, so is all psychobabble, but at least bad poets have the decency to make rhymes.  This 'consciousness raising intergenerational transmission of trauma' humbug is just insufferable.  If Hill Cone is paying twice a week for this solipsistic navel gazing, the day may soon come when she realises that she’s being royally ripped off.  Until that day, she’ll next be instructing all of us on past-life regression therapy and trying to apply it to US politics.

This is where chronic projection is clearly getting the better of Hill Cone, as well as buying into a revolting let-it all-hang out sense of publicity. Because she is going through much needed therapy and is being humbled in the process of finding life traumatising, the rest of us, including President Trump, must also have this turmoil going on within our lives. Too many therapists make the mistake of viewing the world as one big mental hospital, while failing to ever meet the countless people who experience life as incredibly joyful and fulfilling. Like attracts like and all that.

Hey Hill Cone.. here's a newsflash.  Donald J Trump is an outstanding father and grandfather - even his ex-wives admit that - and guess what?  He doesn’t live a rinky-dink little life.  He’s turned one million dollars into twelve billion through building massive, complex, YUUUUUUUUGE real estate projects - and guess what else?  He’s probably had buckets of shit fall on his head from time to time, but he doesn’t need to go and sob to a therapist about intergenerational transmission of trauma.  Instead, he turns it around by digging deep, working hard, applying his knowledge and winning again - that’s what real men, who have already had their consciousness raised, do. You might not know many men of this type, because they’re the ones who are not interested in acting humble and listening all day to your infantine feelings.  They're too busy building the future.

Speaking of like attracting like - what is it with the NZ Herald and soft-headed women who are prone to psychologise? 

This is Lizzie Marvelly four days ago writing an op-ed for the NZ Herald about the much derided compassionate phone call Trump put in to Myeshia Johnson, the widow of Sergeant La David Johnson, the Green Beret who was recently killed in Niger.  This clunky op-ed is titled, “The real reason for Trump’s unpresidential behaviour?”:

   “You don't say, "he knew what he was signing up for, but it hurts anyway." You also make sure that you know the name of the person who has died, and that you use it correctly and effortlessly. That much should be the basic level of respect shown to a grieving widow. This should not be difficult to understand. It should not have to be explained to anyone who has reached the other side of puberty. It beggars belief that the man at the centre of a global conversation around how to treat the bereaved with compassion is the President of the United States.”

Get a load of Marvelly’s zeal and righteous indignation - as if she were the Democratic House Representative distastefully sitting next to Myeshia Johnson and listening in on that conversation before throwing it out to the press, as Frederica S Wilson did on that depressing day.  Yet this supposedly puts Trump on the wrong side of puberty?

Marvelly’s practised hysteria, to say nothing of her attempt to virtue signal, obviously made her blank-out the press conference with General John Kelly, Trump’s Chief of Staff, who sat with the President in the Oval Office when he made that difficult call, along with three other calls to the family members of the fallen.  Kelly, whose own son was killed in Afghanistan, encouraged the President to echo the words of General Joseph Dunford, words that Kelly, as a father, had found consoling during his own grievous time of loss:

   "He was doing exactly what he wanted to do when he was killed. He knew what he was getting into by joining that 1%. He knew what the possibilities were because we were at war, and when he died he was surrounded by the best men on this earth, his friends. That's what the President tried to say to the four families the other day.”

Out of those four families, one widow publicised it as a problem; it clearly had more to do with the conniving character of a female Democratic politician opportunistically listening in on a private phone call than it did with the character of President Trump.
Kelly said he felt “brokenhearted when he got to work” and was so sickened by Frederica S Wilson’s attempt to politicise this small, yet sacred, phone call from a president to a young wife. He said this:

   “And when I listened to this woman and what she was saying and what she was doing on TV, the only thing I could do to collect my thoughts was to go and walk among the finest men and women on this Earth. And you can always find them. Because they're in Arlington National Cemetery. I went over there for an hour and a half, walked among the stones, some of whom I put there because they were doing what I told them to do when they were killed.”

Once again, true to the low standards of NZ Herald journalists, Ms. Marvelly has this story spectacularly wrong - and her brand of air-head analysis passes for journalism in NZ’s most widely read national paper. 

Ms. Marvelly, along with Ms. Hill Cone, may find that their deeply subjective feminine perspectives might be put to better use by staying home and baking scones together for a living (apparently it's a great form of therapy), instead of spraying us with their petulant psychobabble.  At least scones are almost impossible to muck up.


If you enjoyed this article, please buy my book "Western Values Defended: A Primer" ​

By Olivia Pierson

The night before last, we went to the best concert of our lives so far.  The glorious Russian soprano, Anna Netrebko - deservedly the toast of Europe’s classical world - sang us some ravishing opera highlights. She was accompanied by her husband, tenor Yusif Eyvazov, the star baritone Elchin Avazov and the Auckland Philharmonic Orchestra. What a night!  What a programme!

The evening was a romantic wonderland of some of the most powerful music ever composed – and the delivery was simply stellar.
 
Anna smouldered with pure star-quality.  She swished and swanned about the stage like the brightest diva in the firmament, which often created an intentionally comedic effect of way over-the-top feminine charm, as only opera can express. She was utterly beguiling, perfectly proud and obviously enjoying every moment of being at the very height of her immensely talented powers.
 
At the age of 45, her voice has developed into something truly phenomenal; rich, velvety lower tones of controlled strength and soaring tenderness in her higher register which made hearts lift-off into some transcendent realm.  Of course, Anna packs a premium punch with her luxuriant volume – able to drown out the orchestra, the tenor and the baritone all at once, with what appears to be little effort (of course, the effort is far from little).  Anna’s performance of Catalani’s 'Ebben, ne andro lontana' from the opera La Wally, blew my heart out – I actually thought I might be about to have a cardiac arrest - and that was alright with me. What a way to die! 
 
Anna’s husband, Yusi Eyvazov, also exuded huge star-quality. He patted the tears off his face after his wonderful performances of ‘Vesti La Giubba’, ‘E Lucevan le Stelle’ and ‘Nessan Dorma’.  The crowd went wild and burst into applause when the first few notes of ‘E Lucevan le Stelle' opened, so happy were they to anticipate what they knew was about to follow, which was fully satisfied. Yusi’s wrenching lament in the final phrases of 'Vesti La Giubba' would have turned the coldest of hardened hearts into warm butter. Everywhere I looked around in the audience people were dabbing their copious tears away.

When Elchin Avasov sung Bizet’s jaunty “Toreador Song”, the orchestra had only played the first four notes of the dramatic introduction before the audience burst into spontaneous rhythmic clapping - so wonderful was the sense of palpable enjoyment in that great hall.

The Auckland Philharmonic Orchestra was conducted beautifully by Mikhail Tatarnikov. The cohesion of the musicians with the singers was magnificent - and even without the singers, the orchestra treated us to the instrumental Intermezzo of Mascagni’s ‘Cavalleria Rusticana’ - a heavenly morsel of delight.

As everyone left the concert hall, laughter, smiles and a strong sense of collective joy were everywhere. A stranger in front of me remarked to his companion and myself, “Well, that has made everybody very happy!” I replied, “Indeed, we happy few.” Though happily, there were much more of us than just a few.

The artists created a full and very satisfied happy-house.
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