The Last Cackle

Kamala Harris is the new Guy Goma. And her contractions of the diaphragm could very well decide the election. Here's why.

That laugh.

I can’t get over it — I’m sorry, but I can’t. I know it’s superficial, complaining about how a person produces audible contractions of the diaphragm. And laughs are spontaneous, hard to suppress (if they are genuine) so who am I to judge?

It’s a reflex, more or less.

In any case, a laugh tells us something about the person who produces it. It’s a window into his —or her— soul. Sort of. Some folks have big, boisterous laughs. Heartfelt. Infectious. You hear a person laughing and you immediately take a shine to them. Like with John Candy. Or you like them because they are absurd and kind of annoying. Like with Eddie Murphy.

Other people laugh in a way that feels like nails on a chalkboard.

A laugh can be very jarring.

Frightening even.

And then there’s timing. There are good times and bad times to let out a big laugh. When on camera one should exercise caution. Cameras just don’t add weight – they accentuate body language, facial expressions, widened eyes, sighs, gasps…

…insane, high-pitched cackles.

Speaking of widened eyes. Remember Guy Goma? Well probably not, but in 2006 he became an internet sensation after being interviewed by BBC:s Karen Bowerman about the Apple Corps v Apple Computer legal dispute. When the camera turned to Mr Goma he seemed startled. For a second his eyes widened, he mumbled furtively and looked outright guilty; like he had done something he shouldn’t have done. But then he regained his composure and dutifully answered Ms Bowermans questions – albeit a bit meandering and with a heavy, African accent.

It was a confusing interview.

Both to the viewers and to Mr Goma, a Congolese-French business studies graduate from Brazzaville who had arrived at the BBC for a job interview as a data cleanser. There was a mix-up at the reception desk and Goma was mistaken for tech-journalist Guy Kewney who, for some reason, was late for his appearance at the BBC. Guy Goma happened to stand there in his place and due to time pressure and some aide or hostess having a bad, inattentive day at work Goma was ushered into Bowerman’s studio where he sat down and waited — expecting to be interviewed for a job.

As a data cleanser.

When the interview started Guy Goma realized, in a moment of horror, that he was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and that he had absolutely no idea what the woman in front of him was talking about. Being a true trooper he chose to answer her questions anyway. Faking his way through the whole thing.

That’s Kamala Harris.

I've seen dozens of interviews with her by now, and in almost all of them she comes across as someone who has no idea why she's being interviewed, or even understands the questions. I see someone who is desperately stalling — instead of just saying:

“You got the wrong woman! I’m not supposed to be here!”

Instead Kamala stares intently at the interviewer before launching into long-winded non-sequiturs that often —not always, but often— borders on parody. Sometimes these responses are interspersed with sudden bursts of laughter; laughs that at best can be described as inappropriate. At worst as, well… evil.

I know, “evil” is a strong word and mind you: I’m not implying that Harris herself is evil (most likely she isn’t). But that sound… those horrifying audible contractions of the diaphragm… man, they’re hard to stomach. No pun intended.

I suffer secondary embarrassment whenever I hear Kamala’s laugh and maybe I’m being unfair. It's obvious she is laughing because she's scared. She knows she’s not up to snuff as President. Or even Veep. If I were an amateur psychologist (which I am) I’d say she masks her feelings of inadequacy by bursting out in this, seemingly uncontrollable, over-the-top paroxysm that makes dogs bark and babies cry.

Most of us can probably relate to it.

We’ve all been there: asking a non-pregnant woman when she is due, getting questions about export tariffs and the increasingly complex situation in the Middle East… premature ejaculations…

It’s a defense mechanism.

Plain and simple.

And Kamala Harris is on the defensive. Perpetually.

Donald Trump on the other hand almost never laughs. He chuckles. Tops. Obviously he has a sense of humor even if his jokes, more often than not, come off as mean-spirited or childish. There’s no real finesse. Okay, sometimes there is. Calling out Elisabeth Warren for her ”native American”–BS and dubbing her Pocahontas was pretty damn funny. Warren is a self-important idiot and she deserved that take-down; for pretending to be Cherokee.

Which, of course, she is not.

PBS

She’s a con artist.

BBC

Speaking of takedowns, Trump’s opponents do not possess any greater finesse either. Alec Baldwin's Trump-impersonations were always awful. Maybe because it shows how much he hates the guy. Shane Gillis on the other hand… well, he probably doesn't love Trump, but it’s clear that he feels some kind of kinship with The Orange Menace. It's like they say: whoever performs a parody of someone — at some level they have to like the person they're parodying. Otherwise it will be just like when Baldwin puts on his stupid SNL-wig.

Hacky. Boring. Catering to the lowest common denominator. Sort of like Greg Gutfeld with his ”poopie-pants”-jokes about Joe Biden. Gutfeld’s audience laps it up and pretends like it’s actually funny stuff. When in reality it’s just malevolence. Politically motivated spite. Lazy writing.

Back to Kamala.

From a public relations perspective it could be a shit-show if she wins and the Democrats know it. Harris, just like Elisabeth Warren, is a con-artist and not a very good one. She couldn’t read a room if her life depended on it.

Her blathering reflections put Selina Meyer to shame (Julia Louis-Dreyfus dimwitted character in VEEP) and in a way Harris is the incarnation of another fictional figure: Bart Simpson.

“The dog ate my homework!” Bart famously blurted out when confronted by Principal Skinner about why he hadn’t submitted his assignment.

“The border is secure!” Kamala blurts out in her turn.

She does that a lot: blurting out stuff. Like the other day when people were enthusiastically chanting here name at a campaign rally in Michigan:

“KA-MA-LA! KA-MA-LA!”

And Harris suddenly and inexplicably squawked:

“Now I want you to shout your own name! Do that!”

The crowd went silent.

At a rally in Wisconsin someone in the audience —allegedly— shouted “Jesus is Lord!”, whereupon The Vice Gaffer-in-Chief quickly retorted “Oh, you guys are at the wrong rally…” The backlash among evangelical voters was swift and Harris pivoted: suddenly she was a devout… something, a deeply spiritual person that prays not just once a day but sometimes twice!

Axios

At this point her assistants and handlers probably wishes she’ll lose. Four long, excruciating, years of blunders. Four years of slips, blunders and answers that lead nowhere. Four years of nervous contractions of the diaphragm.

Donald Trump also rambles, sometimes incoherently. He is an habitual exaggerator and his penchant for describing all of his accomplishements as ”great”, ”beautiful” and ”amazing” can be exhausting to listen to, but sometimes he has a point. And he has stamina. He sat through three hours with Joe Rogan like nobody’s business and it was mostly interesting, at times pretty funny even.

And he’s not Hitler.

I’m sorry, but he’s not — no matter how much his opponents wishes he was. Trump can be a buffoon, a bully and, at times, extremely careless with words. But he’s not going to abolish democracy. He is just another president. Another guy in a long row of other, more or less, apt executives. And in the end Harris would also be ”just” that: another retired jersey hanging from the rafters. It won’t be a disaster if she wins the election. It won’t be the end of the world if Trump wins again either.

But optics —or auralities rather— are everything and the question for many Americans right now is:

”Who would I rather have in the Oval office when things go down?”

Someone who gets up before ten after being shot in the head, or someone who cackles maniacally at stuff that isn’t even funny?

The jury is out.

With their fingers in their ears.

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