The main problem with President Donald J Trump, when you get right down to it, is that Donald Trump set the poor bastard up.
The reputation he’s given himself, the moral depths he plumbed to get where he’s got, left him with such an uphill climb it seems like a bar bet between billionaires. Even I and others like me, strivers to stay at objective length, can’t help but suspect he’s, way down deep, a bit and a bit more of a bit less, here and there. Lucky for him I’m secretly an abject optimist, one who wants the world to improve — so yeah I’m rooting for him, the Presgodamit of The You And I Tied States, hell ya I am. It’s not about pussy either; I’m not selling this trunk of “PacMan 2017” t-shirts in a recessive economy, and anyway it’s a snap for me to imagine existing a patriot of the selfless, brilliant magnitude required to get in the position to serve — nay, to save his country. To SAVE it! save it damn you, such that this honest to the American idea of God angel of providence with nationalism in his soul (look it up) willingly and ably, that’s a funny word, takes his pre-existing fortune and overabundance of one of the few currencies that really means something anymore (fame) and sacrifices the bucketload of it all to his dream, his own self’s manifestel destinelf, his goal of (get this) the saving of the, what about this, the damn UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, for starters.
Do you get what I’m saying, in all caps exclamation point?
Probably not yet. Look at it this way: Though I can imagine a President with those qualities combined with a singleminded, almost 80s-renegade movie cop-like dedication, the fact is that no matter what altruistic intentions drove the barbeQEO of Trump Steaks to take the highest office in the land (not the more aggressive “take the seat”, even though it is that, one particular seat behind a particular desk in a particularly unique room in a particularly unique house, or the potentially more seemingly aggressive “take the crown”, even though the shit they get up to at the Bohemian Grove probably rests a golden chaplet on everyone’s head at some point) the Trump we know that Trump created in order to get there might prove impossible for him to transcend. I know this because everyone feels sorry for President Donald Trump, if just a little. His supporters maybe most of all. Take a poll, tell me I’m wrong.
But when has a poll been right, and tell me what the news knows. Where does the President get his info? One has to wonder (disclaimer: reading these words implies implicit commitment to said action, and reading of this disclaimer denotes binding willful agreement to all of the above) yes, thank you. Whatever, as I was commanding, one has to wonder what level of awareness Donald J Trump (esq, probably) possesses of his actual public perception. This one we’re talking about now, for example. How aware is he of us, this crowd, one big supportive fan and the rest of you? Does he know what the public thinks? Is he shielded from it? Does it even matter to him? Can he tell? Is he psychic? Does he know what we’re saying, but not until you read the words about it, these words here, those, them? and is he reveling in it?
Maybe a bit of both. I just wonder how aware he is of the people he promised to represent. Yknow, the perception of every single American, the people….or anyway so he said he would, BUT let’s not get into that, shall we ain’t. Wouldn’t want to get on anyone vengeful’s bad side this late in the page. There’ll be other pages. Meantime, I’ll start imagining one specific sound, from six minutes in the future, the *ding* that indicates the “Eat Me” stage of my soon to be constructed two-cheese (unpastuerized marechal and extra old cheddar on Canadian harvest bread) openfaced cheese sandwich, if you even call such a thing a sandwich. Many fights and at least one suspicious death (though the official report suggests it was soup) have yet to resolve the issue, but I’m a crazy sonifaberch, according to a weak speller I know, so it shall sandwich be.
That goes for Trump too. Something about, let’s say misrepresenting yourself, how far not to go or something like that, I don’t know, one of you tell him.