BY DAIMAN TEER for THE SIMPLTON STAR
NOTE: I loathe these people and so should you — unless you’re a leftist scum.
There is a specific, high-frequency whine that only emits from the throats of multi-millionaire actors when they sense the walls of their gated playground might be moving. It is the sound of Jane Fonda and Mark Ruffalo—two of the most insulated, pampered creatures on the planet—attempting to cosign a demand that the federal government halt the merger of Paramount and Warner Bros. Discovery. The sheer, unadulterated gall required to hit “send” on a tweet lecturing the American public about “fewer jobs” and “less choice” while sitting on a combined net worth that could fund a small nation’s military is enough to induce vertigo.
Meet the High Priests of the Credentialed Hypocrisy.
Jane Fonda, a woman who has reinvented herself more times than a budget chameleon, has spent her entire life suckling at the teat of the very studio system she now decries as “dangerous.” From her days as a pin-up for the establishment to her current role as a professional protester in designer coats, Fonda has never known a day of economic uncertainty. And then there is Mark Ruffalo, the man who has made a career out of playing a green, rage-filled monster for Disney- the largest, most soul-crushing media conglomerate in the history of the world. To watch the “Hulk” cry about a merger is like watching a shark complain that the ocean is getting too crowded.
These people aren’t worried about your subscription prices. They aren’t losing sleep over the “beloved audience” having to pay an extra three dollars for a streaming app. What they are actually terrified of is the loss of the gatekeeper monopoly. Maybe there won’t be a FIRST WIVES CLUB IV or HULK ON FIRE ISLAND!
For decades, Hollywood has been a closed-loop system of radical leftist reinforcement. The studios were the cathedrals, and actors like Fonda and Ruffalo were the high priests. They knew that as long as there were a dozen different chairs at the table, they could always find a sympathetic seat for their specific brand of sickening, America-hating, and preachy performative “art.”
But a merger? A merger represents efficiency. It represents the potential for a “cleansing of the stables.” When two giants combine, the redundant, the bloated, and the useless are the first to be pruned. Fonda and Ruffalo aren’t crying for the lighting techs or the craft services workers; they are crying for the death of the “vanity project.” They fear a world where a studio might actually have to answer to a bottom line rather than a social justice scorecard.
And let’s call it what it really is: Bile-soaked fear. They are terrified that a new, perhaps more conservative or even just objective management team might take the helm of this new media leviathan. They fear a Captain who doesn’t care about their “activism” or their Twitter tantrums. They see the possibility of a ship steered by someone who actually wants to entertain America rather than lecture it, and it makes their blood run cold. They have spent so long being the “moral authorities” of our culture that the prospect of being treated like mere employees—people who are hired to say lines and stand in front of a green screen—is a fate worse than death. And hoe fucking much longer does Jane Fonda think she is going to live anyway? She doesn’t actually care about young actors She only cares about herself.
The “demand” they’ve issued ( and there are many more involved than Mark and Jane) is a masterclass in scripted arrogance. “This merger can be stopped,” they proclaim, as if they are standing on a picket line in a movie. It’s a performance. It’s a “Hanoi Jane” sequel for the digital age. They want to play the role of the scrappy underdog fighting the “corporate machine,” conveniently ignoring the fact that they are the machine. They are the shiny, expensive cogs that keep the propaganda turning.
The reality is that the industry they represent is already a crater. It is a desert of unoriginality, sequels, and sermons that nobody asked for. The merger isn’t the problem; the product is the problem. But rather than looking in the mirror and realizing they’ve spent twenty years alienating half of the country, they choose to lash out at the boardrooms. They want the government to step in and freeze time so they can continue to live in a 1998 fever dream where their opinions actually moved the needle of American life.
There is no mercy for people this disconnected from reality. There is no sympathy for the “Last Queen” of the Oscars or the “Green King” of the Avengers. They represent a class of people who have everything—fame, fortune, and the best health care money can buy—yet they still feel entitled to tell a guy in a flyover state how his media should be organized.
They are the “polite parasites” of the arts, sucking the life out of every room they enter with their performative concern. They don’t want “choice”; they want a monopoly on your attention. They don’t want “jobs”; they want to ensure their friends never have to produce anything of actual value to survive.
History will remember them as the dinosaurs who roared at the meteor. The merger is coming, the world is changing, and the people who actually work for a living are done taking stage directions from a couple of overpaid mimes. If the merger results in fewer movies about “societal decay” starring Mark Ruffalo, then the audience hasn’t lost—it has won. It’s time to stop the show, dim the lights, and tell the actors to go home. The kingdom is under new management, and for once, the script isn’t written by them.
The Scripture
Job 20:5
“That the triumphing of the wicked is short, and the joy of the hypocrite is but for a moment?”
The Reason
I chose this because it is the ultimate indictment of the Hollywood ego. They think their “triumph”—their ability to dictate culture and control the narrative—is a permanent fixture of the universe. But the scripture reminds us that the “joy of the hypocrite” is fleeting. The walls are closing in on their monopoly, and their desperate tweets are just the last gasps of a fading relevance.
A Prayer for the Restoration of Truth in Media
Heavenly Father,
We ask for Your protection against the arrogance of those who think their fame gives them the right to rule over our minds and our markets. We lift up a prayer for the dismantling of the Hollywood idol, a machine that has for too long been fueled by hypocrisy and a hatred for the values of the common man.
Lord, we pray that You would bring leaders into the halls of power and the boardrooms of media who value truth over optics and excellence over propaganda. Protect the workers who are truly at risk from the vanity of the elite, and grant the “beloved audiences” the discernment to see through the scripted lies of actors who claim to speak for them while looking down on them.
Break the grip of the self-important, and let a new era of genuine creativity and integrity rise from the ashes of this broken system. Let the voices of the humble be louder than the shouts of the famous, and let the truth be the only thing that remains when the curtains finally close.
Amen.
