Woe is me. Each
day I arise determined to avoid the news of the day, at least until Donald
Trump’s been dead (having died of natural causes sometime in the distant
future) for at least ten years. The obvious, that I’ll be long dead myself,
bothers me not at all. What bothers me is that I can’t stay away, drawn to the
newspapers, the magazines, the cable news networks, like a moth to a flame. And
while the moth can’t be faulted – after all, it knows nothing of the damage
flames do – I conspire in my own desolation. Woe is me.
So, it’s Don the
Con, morning, noon and night, the lead on every newscast. And why not? Donald’s
tweets are designed, primarily, to attract attention. Flamboyant, inaccurate,
obnoxious, racist, xenophobic, misogynist or just plain stupid, the media
inevitably focuses on them. Which is why he stays up at night composing 140
character epics, all of which can be summed up in two words.
NOTICE ME!
Why else does he embrace the belief that
all publicity, even bad publicity, is better than no publicity at all?
Why did he cross the East River, locating
himself firmly in Manhattan? For anyone satisfied with relative anonymity,
Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx offer sufficient wealth to accommodate the
greediest among us. Fred Trump’s business assets (not his estate, worth
approximately three hundred million) have been estimated at upwards of two
hundred million dollars. And he, unlike his progeny, started with nothing.
Why did Trump masquerade as, variously,
John Miller and John Barron if not to generate publicity? At the time, he was
busy trashing Marla Maples, a woman he’d used to publicly humiliate his wife,
Ivana. Most men and women, including celebrities and the uber-rich, avoid
publicizing their affairs.
Moving forward,
why would the President-elect trash a report supported by all three
intelligence agencies without reading the report? If he’d requested a briefing,
it would have been instantly granted.
And why would he
describe John Lewis’s Congressional district as “… in horrible shape and
falling apart, (not to mention crime ridden)” when the district is solidly
middle-class?
Donald Trump
needs attention the way junkies need dope. And like any junkie, the more he
gets, the more he needs.
As of this
posting, Don the Con’s approval rating has dropped to 40%, resulting mainly from
his pro-Russian and anti-intelligence agency tweets. Without doubt, Kellyanne
Conway told him…. No, that’s not right. She advised
him to acknowledge what the rest of world knows to be the truth. Vladimir
hacked the DNC, then orchestrated the release of those DNC emails, all the
while hoping to elect Donald Trump. Donald’s bogus doubts serve only to keep
the wound open. Like I said, Trump’s approval ratings have dropped to 40%.
So far, I’ve
only asked why. But here’s a how to
consider. How can Donald Trump look into a mirror at the raccoon makeup and the
canary-yellow hair and not see a clown? What psychological mechanism allows him
to find in his reflection a man all must admire? And how will this level of delusion
play out now that he’s the most powerful human being on planet Earth?
Free advice for Don the Con: Don’t con
yourself. All publicity is not good publicity. The Presidency can become a
living hell for a president under siege. Just ask Jimmy Carter. For a
narcissist, near universal condemnation is the worst imaginable fate. Remember,
in 2012, Mitt Romney won 47.3% of the overall vote. You won 46.5%.
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