Who am I to judge him anyway? especially on Easter Monday?

The answer is, with limits. Questionable timing aside, I am not now nor have I ever been a soothsayer, so whatever politics comes out of this White House and spreads across the world as we know it, time will only tell. All I can do is the same as the rest of us: judge him as a human being in the public office he holds.

And in that, he inspires the part of me that has a problem with cutting the National Endowment for the Arts, moreso when that good fund runs a fraction of what it costs for Melania to live in a different city. Speaking of Mrs 45, did she take the black sheep with her to New York on this trial separation? or is the lad being kept quiet in some posh sanitorium up in Ojai? Is there any proof of fatherly affection there? I would accept a photo of them playing airplane even once. Don’t papas play with their young children, carry them, pay attention to them, love them, whether or not they’re handicapped? Does he regret his cursed prescient acumen in naming the dull kid ‘barren’? Is this father too busy eliminating Sesame Street by tweet from the back nine to hold the occasional lonely little hand? How about a catch, dad? and is a piggyback really out of the question, as per the child’s level 3 yellow stamp limited security clearance?

Maybe the kids are a no go zone for you. If so, what then of the family pet, the White House dog? no? White House cat? White House raven? miniature horse? sea monkey? Furbee? Can I get an egg with eyes drawn on it? Nerp — not a single pet in that whole vast estate, tradition be damned or not. While he was at it did he have all the live plants removed too? Is it about being humano-isolationist, or just an all-blanketing ban on joy, responsibility, and reminders of life? Hopefully it’s nothing so prosaic as tails blocking his tv.

If it wasn’t for that and my mental block, which I’m working on (the one that keeps me from dredging up respect for someone who actively and specifically doesn’t respect the arts) I could get off this terrible medicinal jimson weed for good. Not that it matters; either way, American culture is, as much as anything (more than most things, and maybe most of all) to credit and blame for everything America is, both now and back when it was Great Again. Civilizations ARE their culture, period… okay, maybe that’s a bit bolder than I meant to state. But it’s not far from true, and regardless, for someone who reportedly watches more TV than you and me put together (I assume), who has some of the best resources in the world to help make major decisions that will have a more Brobdingnagian effect than he can obviously imagine, I’d expect at least a healthy curiosity about what human creative invention might bring next. Or at the least, someone nearby to advise him as such.

But he’s eschewed diplomats in favor of surrounding himself with Generals. Credit where it’s due, I can admit a canny political move when I see one, even one with clear correlates to the business world where he learned it: Surround yourself with people you know will give you the answers you want to hear. He’s building a bias-confirmation machine, from the looks of it.

Maybe that’s why no dog — it’s the dreadful puppy eyes, those undeniable dark limpid affectionate reflectors, that could be casting accusation or just seeking a belly rub, you never know which.

I mean it”s bad enough being occasionally forced to witness innocence in the eyes of children during interruptions like the Easter egg roll. A cute as the dickens expression of unconditional love showing loyalty at your feet all day?

When you put it like that, I don’t blame him for controlling whatever he can control.

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