A parade of gifted thespians

If you didn't watch the Screen Actors Guild awards the other night, you missed out on a parade of gifted thespians. Each new speaker devoted a substantial portion of his/her acceptance speech to an impassioned screed against Trump, trying to outstrip the actors who had come before and soar to even loftier planes of high dudgeon. (Hating Trump while claiming that "Love trumps Hate" obviously makes for great career advancement in Los Angeles, provided, of course, that your outrage is not judged by the members of the Guild to be merely mediocre and lost in the din.) And then the cameras would pan out across the audience to show the various hot house flowers of Hollywood dressed in their silk gowns and jackets and coifed in their bird's nest hairdos, cheering ferociously in approval, confirming what most Americans have suspected for quite some time now, namely, that Hollywood has become a fantasyland of inbred liberal elites, pajama boys and Lena Dunhams speaking only to each other, their current level of hysteria so out of proportion to the actions Trump is taking that it merely demonstrates how completely they have departed their senses, like Attis, vagus animis, worked up into a frenzy he will later regret.