What is it about Michigan that brings out the…the…I don’t even know how to describe it. Let’s just say, “The Raging Insecurity and Narcissism” and let it at that. Our President went on the road again instead of going to the White House Correspondents Dinner. Been there. Can’t actually blame him for that.
But why the counter-event out on the road?
First, the Correspondent’s Dinner.
I was a correspondent once, not at the White House, but was also news editor in a big newspaper’s Washington Bureau. That wasn’t about correcting spelling. It was about deciding who would cover what, how we would present it to readers, and trying to not screw it up too badly in the process because, after all, people make stupid mistakes.
Once a year you got to buy a table and go to this ridiculous party (unless you were a member of the Gridiron Club, another event which was even worse!) People would gather up celebrity guests and show them off. (Generally, the big name media folks got the fanciest guests.) At my paper, we usually got someone way down on the feeding chain who was famous in Chicago but not so much on the Hill.
Then you would go through the dance of pretending to be important and supporting freedom of speech and the press and what not. Essentially, you were compromising your values in an attempt to win favor from future sources so you, too, could write, “A source close to…” said something self serving! It made you want to use, “he lied,” as an attribution. Meanwhile, publishers were trying to figure out how to get rid of just about everyone to enhance their bottom lines and cut down on the bile and spite in the paper.
It was not a happy event in a happy place.
So, while I can’t blame Trump for not participating, he managed to create an alternative that was actually much, much worse. Out there in Michigan he launched into one of his fantasy addresses in which he names all his enemies, smears friends, casts libels around like they are marshmallows and generally makes a gigantic ass of himself.
His supporters loved it. But then they always do. When Trump is in the dump (I like that!) he generally tries to recreate his old campaign events, complete with the “Lock Her Up” stuff on Hillary Clinton. Lots of booing and laughing and shouting. It’s like a circus except it’s not entertaining to watch and not actually funny.
At the Correspondent’s event, you can get too much of clowns, you know? Generally, someone would get drunk and start tossing dinner rolls. If you were lucky, you might hook up with someone pretty at a party later, but not those of us in middle management. We were too busy hooking up with upper management, being friendly with the loathsome!
It was an event to draw out the oafish turd in everyone.
The President, in case you missed the point about turds, has bananas in his head and when he stirs them up, no telling what is going to come out. This was one of those things, you know, where rational people sit back and ask the question, “How the fuck can he get away with this?” without understanding they aren’t part of the picture.
We have finally evolved to the point at which we have a president for boobies (and I’m not talking about breasts). Just boobies. That’s who voted for him. That’s who still loves him. That’s who will always show up when the man needs to escape the real world he is wrecking and slip back into the fantasy world where he is on the top of the mountain.
What a fool.
Banish this event, please.
And stop covering the man like he matters when he’s just out there gassing off.