WASHINGTON—”There are some tickets left,” Jim Acosta told his Substack followers a few hours before taking the stage at the Lincoln Theater in Washington, D.C., to host a live town hall version of the online chat show he started after his “voluntary” exit from CNN earlier this year.
He wasn’t kidding.
The lineup for the first (and apparently only) stop on the “Fire Within Tour” would struggle to draw a crowd almost anywhere else in the country: Rosie O’Donnell, Rep. Jasmine Crockett (D., Texas), and an assortment of professional Trump haters whose names you wouldn’t recognize unless you’re the sort of mentally deranged liberal who owns an Anthony Fauci prayer candle and refuses to watch CNN because it’s right-wing propaganda. Only the most delirious of hyper-online partisans could stomach the pretentious tagline: “Fueling Courage. Defending Freedom. Igniting Truth.”
The Beltway, of course, is teeming with this variety of freak, which is why the lack of turnout on Monday night was so humiliating for everyone involved, not least for the people who actually did show up to have their courage fueled. Venue staff informed a Washington Free Beacon reporter that the upper balcony, comprising nearly half of the venue’s 1,200 seats, was closed—for reasons that were soon obvious. Generously estimated, the lower section was roughly three-quarters full—about 500 people. As the night wore on, it became clear that a significant portion of the attendees were either members of a federal employee union invited to denounce Trump, or had personal or professional connections to one of the “performers.” Acosta, a fierce opponent of so-called mis- and disinformation, had claimed to be expecting a “big crowd” based on conversations with the organizers.
In retrospect, a large retirement home in the Maryland or Virginia suburbs would have been a more appropriate venue for an event of this nature. At the very least, fewer people would have been able to get up and walk out before the end.
Acosta opens the show with his costar Michael Fanone, a former D.C. police officer who became a professional anti-Trump activist after clashing with protesters on Jan. 6. Setting the tone for the show, Fanone laments, “We are in a tough fucking spot.” Acosta agrees. “We are. We are.” Fanone hates Republicans almost as much as he loves punk rock and tattoos. He hangs out with Sean Penn and Kathy Griffin. He’s not afraid to express his feelings with expletives. House Speaker Mike Johnson is a “petty bitch” surrounded by “cock-sucking colleagues.” Not to be confused with the unelected Trump supporters, who are “dick-sucking ass clowns.” Acosta tries to change the subject by asking his other costar Olivia Troye, a former Republican who spoke at the 2024 Democratic convention, about the tragedy that has befallen her Northern Virginia community of federal bureaucrats since Trump took office. “It’s super upsetting,” she says. “And I just have to say to you that the American people, they may not realize it right now, but they will realize it in time, the incredible treasure that they’ve lost.”
Rosie O’Donnell, the actress-turned-activist who fled the country earlier this year, beams in from Ireland. Listening to Acosta attempt to say “top of the mornin’ to ya, Rosie,” in an Irish accent was deeply upsetting to at least one member of the audience. He has even less charisma than Hillary Clinton and his repeated attempts at pun-based humor might be best described in Gen Z parlance as “cringe” or “ick.” It’s astonishing that CNN even offered to give him the graveyard shift before letting him walk. Over his shoulder on stage, two easels have been set up holding what appear to be printed-out photos of George Washington and the Statue of Liberty, reiterating the “Hampton Inn conference room” vibe. O’Donnell says she loves living abroad, where the only people who like Donald Trump are “taxi drivers.” She agrees with Acosta that the media is unreasonably obsessed with Joe Biden’s cognitive decline, when they should be attacking Trump for being a “criminal” who is “not even mentally aware enough to know what he’s doing.”
Among Trump’s many crimes, O’Donnell explains, is “unfairly” winning the 2024 election. “I believe Elon Musk did something,” she says. “I believe the down-ballot proof. I believe that he did not win this election because I am looking at how many people Kamala Harris had, and I just don’t believe it.” Everything Trump says, O’Donnell argues, is an “indictment against himself.” Then she accuses his supporters of being “cult-like.” Based on the solemn clapter in the half-filled auditorium, it seems unlikely that any of these paying customers are contemplating the irony of her remarks. “Top of the mornin’ to ya,” Acosta says in a hideous brogue before cutting the feed. “We’ll have a pint, don’t worry.”
Crockett gets a hero’s welcome, which is to be expected. The potty-mouthed congresswoman has been heralded as a “rising star” despite her limited appeal among normal Americans who would never leave their homes to see Jim Acosta in person. She brings some much needed energy to the stage, and that’s when banter really starts to heat up. Fanone chimes in during a discussion about health care. “Republicans want poor people to die as quickly as humanly possible,” he says. Crockett agrees, and Acosta unloads with a devastating quip: “They call themselves pro-life, but it sounds kind of pro-death.” The audience chuckles politely. Crockett blasts Elon Musk, who recently stepped down from the Trump administration. Acosta says he saw the immigrant billionaire “riding out of town in a Cybertruck,” and wonders what happened to “Big Balls,” referring to the former Musk aide at the Department of Government Efficiency. Crockett is game for some repartee: “Something tells me that his balls are tiny.” Acosta nearly falls out of his chair trying to contain his guffaw.
A series of pre-planned lamentations from fired federal employees appears to somewhat accidentally turn into a question and answer session as audience members start to line up in front of the microphones at the foot of the stage. Most of the questions are comments, apart from “What the literal fuck is going on?” A Substack writer worries about the future of independent journalism four years from now with “Pete and Chasten [Buttigieg] in the White House.” A nice older gentleman urges members of the audience to “support your local heritage institutions.” Acosta has to shut things down in order to knock out the awards ceremony before closing time. Yes, there is an awards ceremony, though none of the recipients appear to have been aware. Miles Taylor, the mid-level bureaucrat who wrote an “anonymous” op-ed in the New York Times about being “part of the resistance” inside the Trump administration, gets a glass trophy for being a “Defender of Freedom.” Tara Setmayer, the former Lincoln Project adviser, gets the “Defender of Women” award. Aaron Parnas, a 26-year-old TikTok influencer, is recognized as a “Defender of Gen Z,” and denounces members of the media, including Acosta’s former CNN colleague Jake Tapper, for being “more focused on selling books about a former president … than they are about telling the truth.”
The night ends, fittingly, with a tremendously lame act of performative righteousness. Like some bizarro secular preacher to his flock of internet-addicted hypochondriacs, Acosta commands what’s left of the crowd to turn on their cell phone flashlights and hold them in the air as a reminder that “there’s still a lot of light left in all of us.” He continued as several attendees gathered their walking canes and made their way to the exits. “It would mean something to me if you carry that message with you as we leave this theater here tonight,” he said. “That this is not a country that is being plunged into darkness. This is a country that can find its way back to the light.”
CNN has never been—and probably never will be—more vindicated than they are in this moment.
This article was originally published at freebeacon.com
