So, Robert Unanue, the CEO of Goya Foods, went to the White House the other day and served up a plateful of over-the-top praise to Donald Trump.
The little speech he gave was the usual Trumpian hyperbole. When doing this kind of thing with other presidents, Americans have usually said things like “Thank you.” Sometimes, they would go on to crack a joke with a friendly gotcha to the prez in it. But they stopped there.
Unanue’s “We are all truly blessed … to have a leader like President Trump …” is the kind of lard that people serve up to out-of-control, mental-case dictators, kings and emperors. It sounded for all the world like Trump wrote it himself.
I’m pretty sure that Trump didn’t write it. The reason is that Unanue didn’t burst out with words to the effect that he couldn’t believe how great Trump is and that he’s never seen anything like it. According to Trump’s many bragging lies about himself, people routinely exclaim this when they are confronted with his magnificence.
In Trump’s version of reality, even doctors fall into rhapsodic hymns of overawed praise singing “this is incredible … I’ve never seen anything like it” when they witness his performance on a cognitive test designed to help diagnose dementia.
Whoever came up with the verbiage Unanue employed in his Rose Garden outing, it had almost nothing to do with the way free Americans have addressed their presidents for these past 250 years.
If Goya Foods’ customers were the angry aging Baby Boomers who are currently styling themselves as the silver-haired sons and daughters of the Old Confederacy, Mr Unanue would be picking tall cotton right about now. His products would be experiencing a big upswing in fanatic loyalty.
My old school chums and co-religionists would be posting memes depicting how an obscure hippie took a break from chanting “Hey, Hey LBJ, how many kids did you kill today?” and suddenly saw a great light and began prophesying about how god would one day send the Trump to save us from sin. Then the prophet saw that someone named Unanue would go before the Trump to proclaim him.
My old school buddies would paste this meme all over their Facebook pages. Then other braindead old friends of mine would write “God bless Robert Unanue” in the comboxes and still others would light up the comment with hearts and thumbs-up emojis.
All that would be spread at Robert Unanue’s feet today. If he had just had the good sense to head up a company whose customers see Trump as Trump sees himself, all this would be his.
But, unfortunately for him, his company’s customers are among the many people that Trump loves to hate. Trump has been burning crosses on hispanic people’s yards for going on 5 years now. Some few of them, including, it appears, many of Goya Foods’ customers, have taken note of this flickering light on their lawns and do not feel as blessed by it as Robert Unanue does.
I’m assuming that Robert Unanue is an intelligent man with some sort of business smarts. But his ignorance about his company’s customers is profound.
So now there are cries of outrage and calls for a boycott coming from hispanics all around this country. At the same time, the sex-drugs-and-rock-n-roll generation, in its newborn guise as the sons and daughters of the Old Confederacy, is chanting about the evils of boycotts. Considering our generational past, that’s pretty rich. But, oh well, forgetting is part of getting old, isn’t it?
Me, I’ve only got one small observation about all this. To me, it’s really simple.
People can buy whatever brand of groceries they want. I don’t care.
I personally have only boycotted one thing in recent years. That’s Woody Allen movies. I was a Woody Allen fan until he took off with his stepdaughter and his other stepdaughter said he’d molested her.
When I heard that stuff, that was it for Woody and me. I haven’t watched another one of his movies, not on television, certainly not at the theater, not anywhere, since that day.
So, you see, I can boycott. I boycott sexual predators, including the one in the White House.
But boycotts in general, not so much.
However, I’m way ok if you want to boycott. I don’t care. Go for it.
If hispanic people want to buy another brand of food besides Goya, it’s fine with me.
What I don’t get is why that’s a problem for anybody else. I know that my Trump worshipping schoolmates are drugged up on Trump like he was heroin. There’s no reasoning with them. All I can say for sure is that, like all addicts, when they get clean, they won’t remember a bit of the destruction they’ve done.
So, I don’t pay much attention to them. I know that there’s good people, locked up inside the raving Trump puppets they’ve become. I realize that he’s gotten inside their brains and they’re hooked on him for the duration. But I know that inside all the nasty craziness, they are still themselves. I’m just hoping and praying that when this is all over there will still be an America that has survived them and their crazy.
In the meantime, I think I get why they’re so exercised because hispanic people they don’t know and heaven knows they for sure don’t like are talking about buying a different brand of beans the next time they go to the grocery store. It has nothing to do with the brand of beans. My crazy-as-a-bunch-of-peach-orchard-boars fellow Baby Boomers and co-religionists have fallen into idolatrous worship of Trump.
This boycott insults their little g false god. They don’t care about Goya Foods. They for sure don’t care about hispanics. They are defending their made-up, phony-baloney, clay-footed, crazy as fool little political god. That’s all.
As for me and so far as I’m concerned, the people of America can buy any brand of food they want to buy.
In the words of Janis Joplin, That’s all folks.