“Why is Epstein the top issue in American life right now?” galaxy-brained columnist David Brooks wrote in the New York Times last month, while also comparing Epstein Files obsessives to QAnon followers. Well, maybe because the Files seem to touch all corners of our cosseted elite, to whom Brooks (and Cockburn) belong. But at least Cockburn, unlike Brooks, isn’t in the Epstein Files:
Brooks should have warned in his column that the Files contain several photos of him, yukking it up next to Google co-founder Sergey Brin at some sort of meal. “As a journalist, David Brooks regularly attends events to speak with noted and important business leaders to inform his columns, which is exactly what happened at this 2011 event,” a Times spokeswoman told a clearly conspiracy-minded reporter from the Guardian. “Mr. Brooks had no contact with him before or after this single attendance at a widely-attended dinner.”
(The disgraced financier happens to feature on the cover of The Spectator’s US Christmas edition, which includes pieces from Ann Coulter, Michael Wolff, Travis Aaroe and Daniel McCarthy, all of which are worth a peruse while you’re waiting for the document dump.)
May every day with David Brooks be another wonderful secret. “Every August, Washington goes crazy with some stupid story. And then in September we think, ‘What was that all about?’” Brooks said earlier this year on the PBS News Hour. Cockburn isn’t sure, David. You’re in the Epstein Files, after all. You tell us.
On our radar
HILLBILLY PRESIDENCY? Erika Kirk endorsed J.D. Vance as the next president this week. Her words at AmericaFest: “We are going to get my husband’s friend J.D. Vance elected for 48 in the most resounding way possible.”
TOO GOOD TO CHECK “My friend just told me @Grindr is crashing in Phoenix,” tweets the infamously truthful George Santos. “Not the AmFest crash 💀”
NEW ENGLAND SHOOTINGS Claudio Manuel Neves-Valente, a man identified as the Brown University and MIT shooting suspect, was found dead in Salem, New Hampshire, Thursday evening.
Bee-dubs
A noted addition to DC’s Uber Eats ecosystem: you can now order from Butterworth’s on the food delivery app. Customers can select new menu additions – nuggets and the “Butter Bird” sandwich – as well as BW’s staple beef-tallow fries. Cockburn tried the nuggets on Tuesday – they are phenomenal. Now you can enjoy Butterworth’s cuisine in the comfort of your own home, without risking the prospect of bumping into a cabinet secretary.
Speaking of the most written-about restaurant in DC – chef Bart Hutchins is currently taking over the White House kitchen to serve goose for the Navy Mess.
The Washington walk of blame
President Trump has added plaques (some of which, the press reports, he wrote himself) underneath the portraits of his predecessors on the Presidential Walk of Fame no one requested. He refers to Joe Biden, represented by a photo of the Autopen, as “Sleepy Joe Biden… by far the worst president in American history.” Barack Obama was “one of the most divisive political figures in American history”. Ronald Reagan was a big Donald Trump fan. George W. Bush started “wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, both of which should not have happened.” Cockburn fact check: true.
As for Andrew Jackson, well, Old Hickory was “unjustifiably treated unfairly by the Press, but not as viciously and unfairly as President Abraham Lincoln and President Donald J. Trump would, in the future, be.” The introductory plaque says that Trump “conceived, built, and dedicated” the exhibit “as a tribute to past Presidents, good, bad, and somewhere in the middle.” You know where he places himself. Some very important people say he’s a great President. Trump gets two photos, and under the second is the caption, “THE BEST IS YET TO COME.”
Flagging
Semafor held their annual holiday party on Tuesday – and your correspondent was on hand to rub shoulders with America’s most exciting Live Journalism Events company.
The party was held at Semafor’s sixth-floor Tribeca office, which is reminiscent of the heady NYC tech-startup days of the mid aughts, a chic look with exposed brick and rows of desks and pods for their journalists to book venues. In the front lobby area, where Cockburn and fellow guests were able to procure a drink, there’s a little fireside-chat-area setup for even more Live Journalism.
Walking off the elevator, Ben Smith, Semafor’s co-founder and editor in chief, swooped in like the gracious host he is to welcome Cockburn and mentioned he was easily recognizable by his Spectator illustration (curious, as Cockburn was not wearing his bicorne hat and Capitol mask). Soon joined by New York magazine’s editor David Haskell, Smith was kind enough to gush over The Spectator being “the greatest magazine in the world,” a sentiment we’re in strong agreement with, of course (though he seemed to have misgivings about our American adventures. Tant pis: he’s in the latest US edition.)
Your correspondent found himself to be perhaps the only one wearing a tie, a reminder that times have indeed changed in the media industry. The party was what a profitable media company’s holiday party in 2025 looks like if they want to remain profitable in 2026. Good people, good fun, open bar. Some media companies are desperate to hang onto the days of caviar bars and live like Graydon Carter for a night – Cockburn says good luck. (But please still send along the invite.)
At a party like this, you’re bound to talk about – what else – but media. One attendee was overheard bemoaning the great stuff on his site that day, only to be overshadowed by Vanity Fair’s incredible Susie Wiles spread. “They won the day,” was huffed.
Elsewhere, Andrew Ross Sorkin was spotted in a corner holding court, no doubt swatting away accolades from well-wishers on his excellent new book 1929, which details the stock-market crash and its aftermath. He didn’t stay long – presumably a list of other holiday parties to attend and an early Squawk Box Black Car pickup.
While wandering and mingling and greeting the assorted guests, much gossip was to be had – unfortunately, too many conversations included the names Nuzzi and Lizza. “I never thought she could bore me, but somehow she has,” Cockburn overheard from one corner. “But she’s doing Friedland this week, so that should be interesting,” a reference to her appearance on former Cum Town podcaster Adam Friedland, now with a must-watch YouTube talk show. (Cockburn preferred the Alec Baldwin episode.)
New Yorker values
During a fit of boredom the other day, Cockburn did something embarrassing: he wandered onto the website of that upstart magazine called the New Yorker. Atop the homepage, he was surprised to find – rather than a tinny short story about a drippy housewife, the periodical’s usual fare – an article from Shayla Love about UFO cults and cognitive dissonance. Intriguing!
But wait a minute – this sounded familiar, Cockburn thought. And sure enough, as he scrolled through the polysyllabic prose, he realized that the same article had been written a month before by none other than his sleep-deprived colleague, Luke Lyman, The Spectator’s US arts editor. In our annals, it was given the considerably snappier title “How scientists misled the world about faith.”
The New Yorker, of course, makes no mention of the fact that they were beaten to the punch on this subject. Oh well – Cockburn supposes you can’t expect a magazine that’s only 100 years old to have fully matured. Let’s hope the pubescent mag will learn the lesson by the time it reaches The Spectator’s age.
Besides its affinity for misspelling words, the New Yorker is renowned for its vigorous fact-checking department. Perhaps they came across the Spec piece during their research. Lyman says he hopes it proved helpful in that regard.
Cockburn’s Diary will return in 2026. Merry Christmas and Chanukah Sameach!
Comments