All Presidents… lets face it. As Gore Vidal said, when you get to the Executive level you’ve been bought and sold a dozen times, and willingly. My big secret hope for Mr Trump was that he, as an iconoclast with a loudly trumpeted agenda to “fix”, whatever that means, things and make America great, whatever that means, again, was pulling a fast one not on America but on the power structure he so vocally derided and decried. In my perhaps naive fantasy he played the game (“It’s all a game” he’s been known to say of business and of life), agreeing to the power elite’s requirements, saying yes to their demands, going along with their plans for plans, knowing all along that once that neato prefix President was securely stapled to his name, he would reveal his true intention — to throw off with abandon those perverted social and cultural strictures of the Great Satan that benefit the very few at the expense of the great many, to upend the soul-corroding established ways of yore, and to actually, god forbid, look out for the little guy as he kept saying he would.
… Here’s where it may get hard for you to stick with me, so I’ll take it slow: He, yes he. may. still. do. all that stuff. What the holy fuck am I talking about, is what yr asking. It’s okay, I can hear you. And I don’t blame you. Yr asking yrself if I’m just being counterfeit. Am I hedging this risk-free bet in a blog nobody cares about, staking my allegiance — way too strong. Planting my, no… Putting? Sneaking, shading. Suggesting gets into the realm of philosophical neighborhood, but what it actually looks to you like I’m doing, regardless of what you think, is trying to support President Bannon. I mean Donald J President Trump, esq probably.
You’re right: I am trying to. And not so when later, when he turns the whole shebang about on its heel and succeeds splendidly, gloriously, majestically even in subverting the conventional order and establishing the New Future’s open potential for a fresh and superior take on democracy, I can sit back and not even bring all this up. It’s more like I’m denying that, as a businessman to the core, Make America Great Again means America circa pre-1861 when owners paid slaves in gruel and a day you weren’t beaten was a gift. I want to convince myself that the passionate urge for more Trump used to be saddled with, the fiery oven driving him to strive for the tallest building in the world, the most money in the world, the most fame in the world — any way you parse it, that motivation comes from a faulty place, and I want him to be out for different ideals now.
Because the job wrecks Presidents. You’ve seen the before and after of Obama, but have you seen Johnson’s? If Trump’s reasons are as impure as his nature suggests, I fear for the state of his hair in a term or two. It’s asking a lot, to attach this kind of selfless motor to someone who shows little evidence to support it, someone who seems to have been in the game on a dare (you could see it during his acceptance speech, when as Henry Rollins says the President-elect’s eyes first realized This is a big dog I just bought).
America is free. That’s a much harder group to govern than a people under thumb, and the criticism and challenge will be great and constant. But I remain dedicated to a future informed by science fiction, a world of glass walkways and leisure time and transubstantive interdimensional travel in the Star Trekian vein. A Trumptopia, you might call it. I won’t, but you’re free to. It’s a free society.