I was in a bit of a funk earlier, and mostly I was annoyed that it was impinging on the good vibes of the last few weeks. Then I saw this latest offering from Noah Rothman at National Review, titled The Oppressive Exuberance of the Harris-Walz Pageant.

Yes, he really wrote “oppressive exuberance”. And the headline does not disappoint. Let’s read it together, shall we?

First of all, the whole vibe discussion is beyond the ken of these sad sack trumpers. Rothman tries, though:

Insofar as the word represents a stand-in for sentimentality, romanticism, or even schmaltz, the English language is at no loss to describe the display Democrats have now put on for the past three weeks.

Insofar as that’s not what it means, no. And you can already sense how absolutely incensed he is about the Blue Mood turnaround. Here’s more on how he’s seen our joyfulness over the last 3 weeks.

“Walz had the politician’s gift of making everyone he encountered feel special,” a USA Today profile of the governor read. “Walz isn’t the first soldier of good vibes for a VP ticket,” it continued, but his “grounded character and amiability” set him apart from many in his party. That is, save for the top of the ticket, who is felicity personified.

And here we start to get at the heart of what is making Trumpers soooo unhappy:  they don’t understand likeability. Or joyfulness, for that matter:

The campaign has engineered what Time magazine’s Charlotte Alter called “the swiftest vibe shift in modern political history.” It’s not hard to see the play here. “Vibes matter,” Salon declared amid its artless reading of the stage directions aloud. “Trump can hardly restrain his jealousy over the Harris campaign’s joy.” What kind of heartless gargoyle would dare strike a posture at odds with joy?

I can’t help but love how he is melting down. I understand that the right is still reeling from the ticket shift, but even when you factor that in, look at utterly unhinged he is—ranting about gargoyles? Seriously?

Now let us savor this next section, where Rothman’s rising anger is couched in increasingly Baroque language:

Dare to harsh the Democrats’ mellow by observing the degree to which the Harris/Walz campaign has festooned itself with fripperies, and you’ll be castigated as the dismal scold you are.

“Festooned…with fripperies”. Could I love his fury any more?

This is all hollow, and it wouldn’t take much probing to expose it as such. The problem for the Trump campaign, as I noted on Friday, is that its effort to market itself as sober and serious can be tarred as joyless because the GOP’s presidential nominee is genuinely irritated, and it shows.

Unfortunately Rothman doesn’t spend any time explaining how all of our joyfulness is hollow, and spends the rest of his time complaining that his side has to deal with a sullen candidate with a negative attitude and message. Frankly I was disappointed he gave up the critique of our “hollow” joy. I think we deserve more. But, as it always is with right wingers, we always get less. Alas.

Here’s some more joy: