The Waverly Inn is the house restaurant of Vanity Fair magazine in New York City. It is part-owned by Graydon Carter, the editor of Vanity Fair, whose life, at least since Trump rose, is dedicated to the realisation of social justice using his favourite weapon, which is being friends with celebrities. Carter’s political engagement is like a blusher brush’s political engagement. It is unfit for purpose, and it is too late anyway.
Even so, Carter has declared war on Donald Trump by slagging off his restaurant in New York City — the Trump Grill in Trump Tower, which I reviewed, or rather crawled out of whimpering, in my last column after attempting to eat a taco bowl to prove I don’t hate Mexicans.
The best analogy I can summon for this stupid war is from Weimar Germany: the Social Democratic Party of Germany, but celebrities now, are telling the National Socialist German Workers Party: your sauerbraten suck.
Carter dispatched a Vanity Fair writer to review the Trump Grill. It was cruel, like dropping a debutante into ’Nam with a grenade made by Prada. She duly described it, quite correctly, as the worst restaurant she had ever imagined, even in hell.
Adolf Hitler might have had the restraint to ignore my theoretical attack on his restaurant. Trump, of course, couldn’t ignore Vanity Fair’s; he doesn’t have it in him to ignore a slight. The Waverly Inn, he wrote on Twitter, has the worst food in New York City, a judgment which will end his career as a restaurant critic, and so he must remain a human Wotsit with malignant narcissism and a pile of nukes.
So here is a war of civilisations being fought through hamburgers on Twitter. This is worse than a war of civilisations being fought on Twitter without hamburgers, because hamburgers don’t matter.