Last night when I went to bed, the White House was still claiming that the president had not breathed a word of classified information to the Russians last week. The whole story, they said, was wrong, and nothing of the sort occurred at all. I found a live stream of the news on CNN, where they were covering the Russia controversy. Everyone was covering the Russia controversy. Then I clicked on a link to a live stream of Fox News, where they were interviewing a rotund white man I didn’t recognize on the topic of beauty pageants.
Next morning I got up, made Rosie pancakes and sat her in front of her Huckle Cat video. I got online to find that Trump himself had gotten on Twitter to claim that, indeed, he did release classified information to the Russians and had no regrets.
I felt a twinge of compassion for the hacks whose job it is to try to defend someone with a political death wish as strong as the president’s. Not for the first time.
The final entry in the president’s tweetstorm ended in an ellipse as if he intended to write more, and that intrigues me. Was he writing a two-parter? What would the second part have been? Surely no additional statements could have made that tweetstorm less damning except, perhaps, for “April Fool.” Why did he stop? The president doesn’t have self-control. He doesn’t stop doing things.
I suppose that might have been the moment when the Secret Service beat down the bathroom door and pried the phone out of his hands. Or perhaps that was the moment he dropped the phone in the toilet. And if he did drop it in the toilet, you can be certain that he got it back out again. Remember how much the president loves that Android phone. It’s the phone he promised to give up for security reasons but just couldn’t part with. So you just know that some poor mute submissive White House peon was brought into the bathroom to get that grubby old Android out of the presidential toilet. That servant is probably still blow-drying the thing and trying to convince the president that it’s too soaked to use. And the president is sitting there, perhaps gobbling two scoops of vanilla ice cream or an overcooked steak, snarling abuses and imprecations at that servant and threatening to fire him if he can’t get it working again. And the servant shudders and says “yes, of course, Mr. President,” and stuffs the sodden mess into a bag of rice to dry out, praying for a miracle. I’ll bet that servant is Paul Ryan.
I wonder what it would take to convince the 33% that there’s something wrong with the president.
There seem to be a sizable number of people out there who still think everything is just fine and dandy.
I’m not talking here about the people who didn’t like Trump but thought he was better than the alternative and are now as horrified as anyone. I’m talking about the people who think he’s fantastic.
They are clinging for dear life to their faith, not only that the president didn’t do anything wrong, but that he’s actually a wonderful man. They’re certain he’s going to turn this country around. They’ll have the religious freedom I don’t know that they ever lacked. Homosexuality and abortion will vanish from the earth. Women will go back to being women instead of whatever they were before. They will wear chaste yet fetching dresses and make hotdish on Tuesday nights. Men will go back to being men, and eat hotdish served by a woman in a fetching dress on Tuesday nights, with leftover hotdish for lunch on Wednesday. Children will be children again and play in the dirty streets without fear of being shot by black people. The poor will stop living so high on the hog and go back to humility and squalor like they deserve. Factories will belch good honest American coal dust again. Anyone willing to work hard will be able to achieve the American Dream. Also, Ivanka is pretty and smart.
I exaggerate for comic effect, but only a little. Every time I interact with one of the adamant Trump supporters, that is the sort of line they give me. They truly seem to believe it.
Heck, Frank Pavone is trying to get his followers to thank Trump for having such a pro-life first 100 days. I have no idea what he’s even talking about anymore. Maybe it’s the sadistic healthcare bill or the MOAB bombing that are so pro-life.
I don’t know what it will take to shake them, if the current situation doesn’t.
Perhaps if Trump pushed The Button and blew up the entire world, 33% of the surviving cockroaches would be sure that it was the pro-life thing to do. And maybe it will be, for roach life.
All kidding aside, though, I’m really curious about what came after that parenthesis.
(image via Pixabay)