Trump

Trump and Hitchcock’s Birds

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the-birds-31

I fear that the sheer overabundance of disinformation/information that Trump generates overwhelms the capacity of the media to focus and fixate.  With Hillary, we had the relatively stable narrative of her untrustworthiness, and her private email server coupled with questions about the foundation provided her enemies and the press witha slow-moving target — if not a sitting target — like a hippo sunning on the banks of a muddy river. No matter that compared to Trump’s malfeasance, the emails – literally misfeasance – seemed like a bigger deal because we heard about them constantly. To switch metaphors, each day brought a new e-mail story, and the stories were stacked like blocks throughout the months until they formed a sort of Potemkin monument of mal – as opposed to – misfeasance.

Trump’s issues, on the other hand, remind me of the avian swarms we find in Hitchcock’s The Birds.  They are legion:  Trump University, Trump’s Foundation, stiffing contractors, pussy grabbing, bankruptcies, phantom tax returns, international intrigue, colossal debt, criminal associations, overt cruelty, the deluge of demonstrable false statements.

A flock of these issues comes at us fast furious squawking in a terrible cacophony, then dart away, before another, different swarm descends.  Meanwhile, via Twitter, Trump spews provocative or petty phrases that further distract those whose job it is to place things in perspective and then render them clearly visible.

For example:

 

Literary Prototypes for Trump

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joker

I’ve been rummaging through the dusty book-lined, cobweb-covered garret of my mind trying to find the literary character who most resembles Donald J Trump.

First, we need someone who is not particularly articulate.  Sure, Trump is quick-witted, capable of an occasional laser-guided zinger, but no one would ever mistake him for Macbeth (though the Thane of Glamis and Cawdor does share with the Emperor of Orange a lack of restraint and total unfitness for office).  What Angus said of Macbeth, Lindsey Graham could say of Trump, “Now does he feel his title/ Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe/ Upon a dwarfish thief.” However, no way does Trump possess the depth and eloquence to mutter, “Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player/ That struts and frets his hour upon the stage/ And then is heard no more.”  When Macbeth is out for revenge, he says, “I am in blood stepped in so far that should I wade no more,/ Returning were as tedious as go o’er.”  Instead, with Trump we get, “If I win-I am going to instruct my AG to get a special prosecutor to look into your situation bc there’s never been anything like your lies.”

There’s perhaps a closer cousin to be found in Dickens, but the sad truth of the matter is that my moth-ridden mind only houses three volumes — Great Expectations, The Tale of Two Cities, and Hard Times — and I can’t think of anyone from those tomes who really reminds me of the Donald – though when it comes to holding grudges, Mr. Trump could give Mrs. Havisham a run for her pound sterling.

The best I can come up with his Michael Henchard from Thomas Hardy’s The Mayor of Casterbridge.

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Henchard, in the likely case you haven’t read the novel, gets drunk and sells his wife and daughter to a sailor, awakens the next day, suffers remorse (a very un-Trumpian emotion), swears off hooch, builds a thriving business, goes into politics, and is elected mayor of Casterbridge.

Here’s Wikipedia’s patched together character analysis:

Henchard has a very impulsive temperament, although he also has a tendency to depression. He tends to take a sudden liking, or a sudden dislike, to other people and can be verbally aggressive even when sober. Henchard is respected in Casterbridge, having built up a strong business almost from nothing, but he is not well liked, and when he drinks, he can be abusive. Indeed, one of the reasons he does so well in business is because, after he sells his wife and child, he swears an oath not to touch alcohol for twenty-one years. When he decides Farfrae [a former business partner] is his enemy, he wages an economic war that, at first, is extremely one-sided. A risk-taker, Henchard eventually lets his personal grudge against Farfrae get in the way of his reasoning abilities. He takes too many risks, gambles too aggressively, and loses his credit, his business, and most of his fortune.

Nevertheless, although Henchard is exasperating, you somehow can identify with him.  You – or at least I – was terribly moved when I read Henchard’s last will and testament:

“That Elizabeth-Jane Farfrae be not told of my death, or made to grieve on account of me.

“& that I be not bury’d in consecrated ground.

“& that no sexton be asked to toll the bell.

“& that nobody is wished to see my dead body.

“& that no murners walk behind me at my funeral.

“& that no flours be planted on my grave,

“& that no man remember me.

“To this I put my name.

MICHAEL HENCHARD

To cut to the chase, Trump lacks the stature to be tragic and is too dangerous and mean-spirited to be truly comic.  Perhaps if we’re looking for a literary doppelganger, we’re better off searching comic books.  In fact, with his outrageous hair, orange complexion, and out-sized ego, Trump would make a fairly cool Batman villain.  The terrifying thing, of course, is just how close this Joker has come to being elected President of the United States.

trump_angry

Ominous Clouds, Tangerine-Tinted Dumpster Fires

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trump and putinThe trope that the Republican presidential nominating process has been a parody of a reality TV show has been superseded with a more pernicious general election scenario – now we’re watching a neo-Cold-War thriller, The Apprentice having morphed into Bridge of Spies.

You can read about the controversy here, but the SparksNotes summary of the conjecture goes like this: Trump’s companies are in hock to Russia, which explains Trump’s odd embrace of Putin, which explains the removal of a pro Ukrainian plank from the Republican platform. If you consider these unusual geopolitical stances in light of the increasing likelihood that the hacking of the DNC’s emails is the work of Russians, it looks as if Russia, our erstwhile mortal enemy, is manipulating the presidential race to favor Trump.

Meanwhile, the leaked emails reinforce the Sanders deadenders’ belief that the election was stolen by Hillary, who, through the fogged-up glasses of their fanaticism, looks like the fraternal twin of Donald, so they demand “a choice not an echo” and would just as soon see the tangerine-tinted-dumpster-fire Donald elected as Hillary.[1]

They even booed Bernie himself, who is certainly old enough to remember this:

So, all and all, not a great start to the Democratic Convention when several polls have come out to show Trump ahead in the general election.

I say, invest in radiation suits.

[1] To paraphrase Samantha Bee’s too apt description.

Trump, the Ultimately Unfunny Buffoon

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Donald Trump caricature, creative commons via Flickr and Jay Ward's Snidely Whiplash photoshopped by WLM3

Donald Trump caricature, creative commons via Flickr and Jay Ward’s Snidely Whiplash photoshopped by WLM3

I hate to admit it, but during the Republican primary season, I found Donald Trump to be amusing, his buffoonery charming in a counter-intuitive way, the way you might find yourself chuckling at Fyodor Karamazov or Snidely Whiplash.

Take for instance, Trump’s Low-Energy-Jeb shtick. Here is a man who embraces his wealth like a teddy bear, a man who flashes his net worth like a grandparent sharing photos of his progeny, a man in his 69th year who on national television mocks the physical posture of a former governor as if they’re running for student council representative for the 8th grade.

But let’s face it: Trump lacks the charm to remain amusing for very long because he lacks the ability to be self-deprecating. Imagine his delivering a speech at the end of a White House Correspondents Dinner or a Don Rickles Hollywood Roast, Trump’s tangerine complexion gone red-orange in rage, drool dripping from the lower left arc of his sphincter-shaped mouth as it arse-belches vengeful rebukes.

No, ultimately, Donald Trump is about as amusing as the Battle of the Somme, and it’s time that we start the very serious business of making sure he’s not elected President of the United States – and that we includes the neo-Manicheans of the Never-Hillary Bernie Brigade.

 

Bible Study with Donald Trump

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donald-trump-750x455Hey, I’m an author. Did you know I was an author? Well, I am, and I’ve written the second greatest book out there, The Art of the Deal. If you haven’t read the book, you need to grab a copy because it’s tremendous; there’s a tremendous amount of wisdom in that book, but you know what, there’s even a better book out there, and that’s the Bible. Nothing beats the Bible. It’s my favorite book. And this might surprise you, but the Bible is an excellent textbook when it comes to showing you how to make a deal. Let me tell you, the God of Hosts was no slouch when it came to making a deal.

Ever heard the story of Dinah and Shechem? You can find it in the 34th Genesis. Now this is the kind of story they skip over in Sunday school because it’s not politically correct, but you know what? I’m sick of political correctness. I’m going to share this neglected story with you because it’s one of the greatest deals ever made in the history of the world.

Okay, Dinah’s the daughter of Jacob and Leah, and on her way to visit some women, Hamar’s son Shechem sees her, finds her attractive, and rapes her. Now, I’m against rape because I love women. I cherish them. Unless they’re whores like Jezebel or bitches like Noah’s wife or pigs like Roseanne Barr. Anyway, that’s not the norm. Most women are wonderful, and anyway, rape’s a terrible thing.

But get this. This rapist Shechem falls in love with this Dinah, the babe he’s raped, and his old man Hamar approaches Jacob with a deal. I’ll go ahead and quote from the Contemporary English Version. It’s much better. None of those thees and thous and smiteths and all those archaic words that irritate the hell out of you. You agree, right? Of course, you do. Archaic words have no place in the modern world. Anyway, here’s the scoop: Here’s what Hamor says to Jacob:

My son Shechem really loves Dinah. Please let him marry her. Why don’t you start letting your families marry into our families and ours marry into yours? You can share this land with us. Move freely about until you find the property you want; then buy it and settle down here.

Shechem’s right there with his old man. The gall of these people, asking favors from the father of a daughter you’ve just raped. It’s terrible. Even Bill Clinton wouldn’t do something like that. Anyway, Shechem adds, ““Do this favor for me, and I’ll give whatever you want,  anything, no matter how expensive. I’ll do anything, just let me marry Dinah.”

Okay, guys, if you’re ever trying to make a deal, never say you’ll do anything. Makes you look weak. It’s pathetic. You gonna get took. Just watch and see. Here’s what Jacob’s sons say:

You’re not circumcised. It would be a disgrace for us to let you marry Dinah now. But we will let you marry her, if you and the other men in your tribe get circumcised. Then your families can marry into ours, and ours can marry into yours, and we can live together like one nation.  But if you don’t agree to get circumcised, we’ll take Dinah and leave this place.

Well, Hamor and Shechem swallow the bait hook, line, and sinker. They decide to talk all the men of the tribe in getting circumcised so they all can intermarry with the Israelites, thinking they could get access to their crops and flocks, to create a merger so to speak.

But here how it goes down. Again, I’ll let Moses do the talking.

Three days later the men who had been circumcised were still weak from pain. So Simeon and Levi, two of Dinah’s brothers, attacked with their swords and killed every man in town, including Hamor and Shechem. Then they took Dinah and left.  Jacob’s other sons came and took everything they wanted. All this was done because of the horrible thing that had happened to their sister. They took sheep, goats, donkeys, and everything else that was in the town or the fields.  After taking everything of value from the houses, they dragged away the wives and children of their victims.

Now that’s what I call one great deal. Not a lousy 50/50 proposition. Not an eye for an eye, but a village complete with farms and widows and slave children for a hymen. Like I say, I’m not for rape, but you have to admit the compensation for this deal was out-of-sight.  Maybe if we had some deal makers like Jacob’s sons in Washington we wouldn’t be getting taken to the cleaners by China and Mexico.  It’s a disgrace.

Okay, that’s it for today. I got to go out and make America great again.  But join me next week, and we’ll talk some more Bible. King Nebuchadnezzar. He was rich. Maybe not as rich as me but rich. I’ll talk all about him next time.

Simeon Levi

Offing People from Off, Donald Trump Style

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Your Modest Author

Your Modest Author

What the success of Donald Trump’s presidential candidacy has eloquently demonstrated is that Americans crave simple, no nonsense solutions to our problems.

Take his plan to cleanse the country of the infestation of illegals, those predatory, pick-pocketing, often pregnant, anchor-casting Mexicans slipping through that porous sieve of a shitty excuse of a wall that fails to protect us from their nefarious plots to mow our lawns and frame our houses.

As soon as their pregnistas start dilating, they dog paddle across the Rio Grande, and the next thing you know, they’ve given birth to a US citizen, who eventually ends up hogging space in an emergency room, getting sewn up after his gangland knife fight, all on Uncle Sam’s dime.

Not to mention that once they’re established, they vote for the Democrat party.

Certainly, a country that has put men on the moon can set up a system to identify criminals who have entered our country illegally and deport all 11 million of them.

Although Candidate Trump hasn’t exactly worked out the details, he’s smart, rich, and successful, so don’t be surprised if for PR purposes he opts for Greyhounds instead of boxcars.

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All of this has gotten me to thinking about similar problems we face in coastal South Carolina. Nowadays, getting a parking space in downtown Charleston within a mile of your desired destination is as unlikely as drawing a royal straight flush.

As I inch my way homeward each afternoon down Folly Road, like a blood cell squeezing along a clogged artery, I’ve noticed a proliferation of license plates that don’t feature palmettos trees or crescent moons. Each day, more and more cars appear; new stop lights are popping up like mushrooms, all because of an unsustainable influx of outsiders.

No, these people impeding my progress aren’t foreigners in the multi-national sense, but the majority of them are not natives of South Carolina. They don’t sound like us, they don’t think like us, and they don’t pull for the Gamecocks or Clemson. In other words, they don’t belong here. They’re taking over, I tell you, and mark my words, as Bruce Springsteen once sang, “Soon everything we’ve known will all be swept away.”

Today the Confederate flag, tomorrow octoroon Klansmen. Don’t be surprised, fellow native South Carolinians, if your grandchildren say “you guys” instead of “y’all.”

Thanks to Donald Trump, I’ve come up with a plan to take back our South Carolina, i.e., rid the Palmetto State of people-from-off. I’ve sent a letter to my state representatives demanding that they introduce legislation to implement my two-step plan to restore South Carolina to its pre-influx purity. I promise you, fellow natives, getting a parking space downtown will not be a problem if this plan is implemented.

It has two parts. The first step, of course, is to secure our borders. I suggest we construct a massive combination of Hadrian’s Wall and a tollbooth that wraps around our pie-shaped state. Anyone entering the state will have to pay a hundred dollar toll. What about people flying in you ask? Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out. I’m very smart.

And, hey people, I’m getting Ohio to pay for the wall!

The second part is simply to invite non-natives to self-deport, and if they refuse, to utilize the National Guard to forcibly remove them.

Of course, this change will result in some short-term inconveniences (empty condo complexes, mass bankruptcies, the closing of the Air Force Base), but we eventually conquered Reconstruction, didn’t we? We need to take the long, not the short view. We’re talking about our way of life.

Sure, things might get a little lonely down here on the lane where I live. My next door neighbor Jim will have to go, and Bobby and Nina, also Claudia, who lives two houses down, and the Weimanns and their two beautiful daughters, and of course, Chico Feo will have to close, and the Jack of Cups.

Oh yeah, and my wife, Judy Birdsong, she was born in Georgia.

That leaves me, and only me.

Come to think of it, xenophobia might not be such a great idea in a nation of immigrants.