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Closing in on the 100th day of the Donald Trump administration, we who write for a living face a question: Can we ever get away from politics?

For people who consume even a moderate media diet, it's remarkably difficult to shut off the firehose of political news that comes at us 24/7 from our TVs, online newsfeeds and social-media streams. Even if you turn off the news for a few hours, politics abounds in our pop culture.

In an exhaustive essay on Vox.com this week, writer Jaime Weinman opined that we are entering a new era of cultural criticism — one of social consciousness, where commenting on an artwork's political message (or lack of one) is a greater measure of its value than aesthetics or craft.

"Whether it's superficial or perceptive, today's pop cultural criticism can't seem to ignore social issues," Weinman wrote.

It can be argued that our pop culture is more political, and commenting on those messages — the racial stereotypes that underlie Jordan Peele's "Get Out," or the way Margaret Atwood's "The Handmaid's Tale" (adapted again as a new series on Hulu) is a warning about authoritarianism and the oppression of women — merely is observing what's there.

That argument ignores the fact that art — whether it's Picasso's commentary on war in "Guernica" or the anti-McCarthyist stirrings of "High Noon," to name two 20th-century examples — long has mixed political messages with artistic impulses.

It could be that critics are more sensitive to political messages. We didn't used to notice when a white actor was the main character of a movie set in a nonwhite culture. Now we notice. Ask Matt Damon or Scarlett Johansson after the reception given to "The Great Wall" or "Ghost in the Shell."

We notice, in part, because the press box isn't all white males anymore. A more diverse array of voices are being heard by the public and critics alike.

I was mildly bothered, for example, that "The Fate of the Furious" brought back Jason Statham's villain, Deckard Shaw, as a good guy, because I remembered Shaw had killed or tried to kill members of the series' central "family" in past installments. But it wasn't until I read comments by Jen Yamato, at the Los Angeles Times, that I remembered Shaw's main victim was Han, the franchise's most prominent Asian character, and forgiving Shaw was an affront to Asian fans of the series.

Another reason critics are calling attention to the political element of art is rooted, I think, in guilt — and not the usual liberal guilt usually ascribed to the media.

No, this guilt stems from the fact that the source of our current woes, Donald Trump, was our problem first, and we didn't do enough to contain him.

For all the talk about his real-estate fortune (which he mostly inherited), Trump's true career was as an entertainer. As a developer, a casino operator and finally as host of "The Apprentice," Trump built his brand and his reputation as a Barnumesque showman.

Television critics, who dealt with him before political pundits did, knew he was a serial liar and a braggart. My colleague Scott D. Pierce attends the semi-annual Television Critics Association meetings in Southern California, interviewing TV stars and studio executives. Every time Trump showed up, Pierce recalled, he boasted about how great his ratings were — and he wasn't merely lying, but he was lying about things that were documented.

We who write about pop culture knew this about Trump early, which is why we didn't take him seriously as a candidate until it was too late. Because we missed our chance then, we are getting serious now, and observing the politics of what we critique.

Critics will put those skills to use Saturday night, with one of the biggest conflations of media and politics there is: the White House Correspondents Dinner, where journalists and politicians rub elbows for a night of good-natured ribbing.

There's plenty to criticize about the event: It has become overrun with celebrities, it's symbolic of Washington's clubhouse atmosphere, it's the center of the swamp Trump said he was going to drain. (It's these criticisms that prompted comic Samantha Bee to stage an alternative event, Not the White House Correspondents Dinner, set for the same time on TBS.)

To its credit, the dinner raises money for young journalists, gives C-SPAN a ratings bump and usually produces good comic moments — such as when Stephen Colbert lampooned George W. Bush's post-9/11 jingoism or when President Barack Obama picked on an unamused Trump.

This year, the occupant of the White House will be a no-show. Trump announced weeks ago he would skip the event, and followed with plans to hold a campaign-style rally to mark his 100th day in office.

It's a dirty move, because not only does Trump avoid a skeptical audience in favor of a fawning crowd of supporters, but it also means some White House correspondents might miss their own dinner to cover him. Even reporters who cover politics need a night off from politics once in a while.

Sean P. Means writes The Cricket in daily blog form at http://www.sltrib.com/blogs/moviecricket. Follow him on Twitter @moviecricket. Email him at spmeans@sltrib.com.