Sometimes, the themes for attack are so obvious that one feels, how to say it, embarrassed, to take even a mild swing, even a bunt down the third base baseline. This is one of those times! Click on the link and the Trump Golden Idol appears. It’s almost biblical in its arrogance, as though an Edward G. Robinson character would walk up and say, “Yeah…. where’s your idol of gold man now?” That, of course, won’t happen because real life is never as good as what happens in old movies. There’s no Charlton Heston here as Moses, no booming “Voice of God” to cite some commandments. No one is going to part the waters in Orlando so the chosen people (self-chosen, actually) can march through to a happy new world on the other side that includes a new kind of math that will deliver an election to the Flabinator.
There is just this image.
An idol of gold, a symbol so powerful it reaches all the way back to the Old Testament and a collection of confused people trying to figure out what God, whom ever that might have been back then, wanted them to do as people with special blessing. Pretty safe to assume that among their chosen tasks would not be gathering behind a TV idol to revive a political career that collapsed under the weight of its own bile.
But what the hell! Give him his 45 minutes, or whatever it will take, then send him packing. It’s his Republican Party after all, so why wouldn’t the most conservative among the conservative Republicans honor this gas filled bag of pooh? You made him, after all, so you can keep him. Just make sure you pick up after him when he soils everything he touches!
That’s enough said about this. I suspect the speech will be about XXXXXXXXX ( Insert your words here.)
I’m going back out in my garage and start working on rebuilding ukuleles again. That, at least, was great fun.