Whoever fears camp is dead should treat themselves and watch the "farewell speech" delivered by Rep. Kevin McCarthy, R-Calif., on December 14. It is no exaggeration to say I guffawed my way through it. The term "stuffed shirt" was invented for a character such as McCarthy, who resigned his office after being ousted as speaker of the House earlier this year. It's unfathomably huge, the gulf between his self-conception as a noble statesman and the sniveling clown perceived by everyone else. It would be tragic if it weren't so hilarious, a conflict that is the ground from which camp takes root.
"I loved every single day," McCarthy started. It felt like hearing a man toast his wife at their 50th-anniversary party even though everyone knows he hasn't lived with her since the infamous "buying a boat without telling her" incident of 2003.
"If there's advice I can give," continued a man famous for selling his soul for the speaker role that he lost less than 9 months later. "Do not be fearful—"
It is at this point, reader, that coffee shot out of my nose and onto my iPad screen, inadvertently stopping the C-SPAN video mid-sentence. For if there was one quality that most people will remember about the congressman from Bakersfield, it was his fearfulness. Donald Trump sent a murderous mob after McCarthy and the rest of Congress. Those who do not fear would take a stand after their near-murder. Yet all McCarthy could do was slither on his belly to kiss Trump's feet.
"Do not be fearful you could lose your job," is where this speech, it turns out, was actually heading. This time, I had to pause just to catch my breath, lest I break a vein laughing. The defining impetus of McCarthy's career was a fear of losing the job he so badly wanted. It's why he groveled before Trump and made deals with odious backstabbers like Rep. Matt Gaetz, R-Fla. It's why McCarthy endured the humiliation of 15 votes on the House floor before he finally squeaked out his role as speaker. It's why he agreed to the ridiculous condition of allowing a single member to call a vote for his ouster, handing a loaded gun to the members of his party most eager to fire it.
His speech went on for 8 minutes, but I'll relent in quoting it. Fans of cringe comedy are free to watch it themselves. Snippets are enough to really get a sense of the high self-regard McCarthy has for himself, which is in direct contrast to how everyone else sees him.
McCarthy delivers a farewell to Congress
— NautPoso 🇮🇪☘️ (@NautPoso) December 14, 2023
(meme collab with @JanetSYoung1) pic.twitter.com/H2D2ITiWAD
So many of the Republicans who have played handmaiden to Trump's fascist designs have yet to pay a price for it, so it was a delight watching McCarthy take a year-long pie in the face. He earned the record for the shortest tenure of a speaker not taken out by some odd 19th-century disease. It was especially satisfying because McCarthy was ruined by the same MAGA forces he cynically championed, in hopes of being repaid with power. Instead, they viewed him with contempt for being such a wiener. Gaetz and his crew of MAGA trolls called for McCarthy's ouster in late September and by October 3, McCarthy was out.
He then resigned from Congress in December, despite having declared a few weeks before, "I never quit."
But oh, somehow it's all even more demeaning than that. Everywhere he went this year, one could almost hear the "Curb Your Enthusiasm" theme music following. Especially with regard to McCarthy's apparently sincere delusion that Trump would return all the loyalty shown by the boot polisher he calls "my Kevin." The Washington Post reported that McCarthy had reached out to Trump during the ouster fight, asking for Trump to repay the enormous debt Trump owes after McCarthy spent years covering up for Trump's crimes. Even though Trump could get the Republicans opposing McCarthy to back down with one threatening social media post, Trump declined to help.
"F—k you," McCarthy reportedly responded. But Trump likely knew "my Kevin" didn't dare leave his side. Sure enough, the Post also reported that the "two continue to speak and text," despite Trump gleefully tossing McCarthy overboard for no other reason than the sheer pleasure of watching him drown.
McCarthy's debasement is only compounded because of all the details that have become public, showing how willing he is to fluff Trump's pillows and wipe Trump's brow. The funniest by far is from former Rep. Liz Cheney, R-Wyo., who detailed the excuses McCarthy made for his post-January 6 trip to kiss Trump's ring at Mar-a-Lago.
"They’re really worried," McCarthy said of Trump's aides. "Trump’s not eating, so they asked me to come see him."
The pathos of the excuse was compounded by the obviousness of the lie, as many a late-night host reminded us that Trump has never missed a meal in his life. Even Trump, always ready to gratuitously abuse McCarthy just to see how "my Kevin" will endure, jumped in with a Truth Social post saying, "I was eating too much." Which is the sort of thing you know Trump will only admit because it's an opportunity to bully McCarthy.
Just as funny, to me at least, was the story about McCarthy sucker-punching Rep. Tim Burchett, R-Tenn., in apparent retaliation for Burchett's vote to oust him. McCarthy denied sidling up to Burchett and elbowing him in the kidney, just as he denied the "Trump's not eating" story. But no one believes McCarthy, and not just because there's witnesses to both. It's because both stories epitomize the chump we all know McCarthy to be. He's a man who wants to do dumb and cowardly things, like visit Trump at Mar-a-Lago or hit people from behind. But he doesn't have the guts to admit it, instead continuing to play-act like he's a great man, even though no one is buying the act.
McCarthy accomplished almost nothing of note in office, mostly being there in hopes that he'd be famous enough to be recognized in coffee shops. But he did manage to pull off one trick of comity in a time of great national division, by finding the one thing liberals and Matt Gaetz can agree on: Kevin McCarthy sucks.
