Does anyone really want to watch Sean Spicer dance?
For 182 long days in 2017, when he served as Donald Trump’s mouthpiece, didn’t we already see him do the cha-cha with facts? As the White House press secretary, did Spicer not already do a rumba with reality, a jive with veracity, a samba with decency? Did his Pinocchio stint not amount to one big tango with the truth?
But from a cameo at the Emmy Awards to a correspondent gig with Extra, from a book deal to a talk show that was DOA, popular culture has served as his off-ramp from disgrace. Instead of ostracizing Spicer for the many lies he told, Hollywood has normalized him. Instead of never forgetting, it has chosen amnesia.
It keeps trying to turn this radioactive marionette into a teddy bear.
The latest chapter in this putrid redemption tale came on Wednesday when ABC revealed the cast for the new season of Dancing With the Stars: Christie Brinkley, Lauren Alaina, Hannah Brown, Lamar Odom, James Van Der Beek, Mary Wilson, Ally Brooke, Karamo Brown, Kate Flannery, Ray Lewis, Kel Mitchell and, yes, Mr. Spicer. Look at that list. Singers, actors, comedians, supermodels, athletes and one former political envoy who will presumably bust a move with his pants on fire.
During Wednesday’s “cast reveal” on ABC’s Good Morning America, Spicer sauntered across the glittery set from backstage, grinning and waving from a podium as the audience whooped with delight. It was like watching teetotallers cheer on Captain Morgan. And at that moment, as Spicer took his seat among the quote-unquote celebrities, ABC delivered a sucker punch to all that is good and decent.
Look, I’m all for second chances and dialogue across the aisle. Society is getting ripped to shreds by our disagreements. I have no time for “cancel culture” and the outrage mobs that want to silence anyone who violates their sensibility. Spicer, like everyone else, deserves an income and an opportunity to live his life.
But that doesn’t mean he gets to do so in the spotlight.
Dancing With the Stars? More like Dancing With the Scumbags.
If Spicer at least apologized for waterboarding the truth and giving reprehensible cover to a leader of the free world who is clearly not fit to lead a Dairy Queen, that might be grounds for prime-time rehabilitation. But Spicer is still a Trump apologist. The poison is still in his bloodstream. He hasn’t had the come-to-Jesus revelation of, say, an Omarosa or the Mooch. So by casting him, what DWTS producers are saying is, “Yeah, we don’t care. When politics T-bones entertainment, the moral high ground gets paved over by the bottom line. There are no consequences.”
I mean, what’s next? Is Kellyanne Conway going to get a talk show on the Oprah Winfrey Network? Now that a corporate dispute has put the future of Spider-Man in doubt, will Ben Carson join the Marvel Cinematic Universe as a friendly neighbourhood Sleeper-Man? Will a future season of The Bachelor star anti-immigrant mortician Stephen Miller, and will he force all nubile contestants to take a 23andMe genetic test?
“I’m sorry, Amanda. It seems you’re 6 per cent Hispanic. The bad news is I can’t give you a rose. The good news is I will refrain from locking you in a cage.”
If Spicer knocked on your door and said there was a gas leak, you’d feel safe lighting up a cigarette. This guy was a political spokesperson and what he spoke were lies. When he’s talking to himself in the shower, I bet he looks down and says, “This is the largest genitalia to ever witness an exfoliation, period! This bar of soap is a unicorn riding on a unicorn across a rainbow of clean!”
During his time as press secretary, Spicer was basically an assault rifle and the truth was always in the crosshairs. He fired off so many deafening lies, it’s a miracle he doesn’t have permanent hearing loss. He didn’t care about a free press or accurately disseminating policy. All he cared about was pleasing his diabolical master.
Spicer did more frantic spinning than a Peleton junkie.
That was the bed he made when he voluntarily pulled the Trump sheets over his eyes. But what, two years later, ABC is going to open the blinds, dress him up real nice and ask viewers to watch as he gets his awkward groove on?
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Please. I’d rather watch Roger Stone dry-hump a chandelier.
At least that would be coming from an honest place.
By casting Sean Spicer as a dancing fool, ABC has made a mockery of its news division and democracy itself. It has just sent a dangerous message to all Trump enablers and bootlickers, past and present: We don’t care about what you did.
Much like Spicer’s original lie, all it cares about is ratings and crowd size.