The American Left has never understood Donald Trump and probably never will. From the moment he arrived on the political stage until now, they have been befuddled, gobsmacked, dismayed, and horrified. How could this vaudevillian, this Borscht Belt tummler, this imposter, this fool, this grandmaster of deceit ever have been elected?
Twice, they say, they had nominated a true savior - women of weight and substance, import, intelligence and good will - and twice they had been roundly defeated by this circus clown, a man with no depth, a bourgeois nappy, a...
There could be no words to describe the feeling of bilious, vile hatred for the man. Not only were the hopes of America sent packing, but the interim years of the Biden Administration - four years of fundamental, revolutionary changes for the good - had had no impact. The idiot was returned to office and was now ruling with a vengeance.
After so many years of lawfare, screeching howls of misogyny, racism, homophobia and innate bigotry - none of which stuck and only served to add coal to the fire of an already vindictive president - the man was not only still in office but running roughshod over them.
Wails of misery, torment, and agony were heard up and down Pennsylvania Avenue as liberals forced themselves to walk past the White House, to watch the parade of beautiful blonde young things coming and going, not a black face among them; to hear the blaring horns of triumph playing in the Rose Garden, to see the silhouettes of this unholy cabal of white supremacists strutting from East Wing to West Wing.
'What hath God wrought?', said Bob Muzelle, reverting to his Biblical training never forgotten after years of secularism. He caught himself too late. His oath had been uttered and heard by his confreres. However, the man in the Oval Office was indeed an apostasy, a visitation, an unholiness, something deserving of righteous Old Testament wrath.
When pressed for reasons for this bilious hatred, Bob could only sputter. 'He...this man...this...', he managed without finishing his thought. It was not only that the question itself was maddening, suggesting there still needed to be justification for liberal criticism, but that the animus within had grown to such proportions that it was unutterable.
The President had secured the borders, cleared the decks of useless, wasteful government bureaucrats, clotured all debate on the insanity of gender choice, bombed the Iranian nuclear facility to smithereens, rid the Caribbean of a Communist dictator, assisted Israel in its existential time of need, and freed private enterprise from imprisoning taxation, laws, and regulations. America was regaining status in the world, leading a conservative revolution in Europe, and expressing Machiavellian will and resolve.
And yet and still, the Left could only shout, 'Racist!' louder and louder with more passion and insistence as though the turning up the volume and shaking like trees in a storm could make a difference. The Left had nothing in the armory. Its gunracks, shelves, repositories, hangars, and missile silos were empty. Gone were the halcyon progressive days of Lafollette, Brandeis, and Gompers, men of principle and intellectual fiber. All that was left of the movement were hollow bellows.
Meanwhile conservatives were jumping with joy. Finally and at long last, their voices were being heard and finally a real American president, a man like them, was in office. Trump was indeed middle-brow, a bourgeois man of yachts, mansions, glitz, glamour, and arm candy. The new White House ballroom, the revamped Kennedy Center, the parties, the formal events, the whole atmosphere was all what Americans wanted, what they liked, and what they aspired to.
Yes, his policies mattered and the dismantling of the presumptuous social agenda of the Left was long overdue, but it was his persona which mattered most. He was a man after their own hearts.
'But how could they?', asked Bob, still immured within his own progressive redoubt. So convinced was he of the absolute righteousness of the supremacy of the black man, the essentiality of the gender spectrum, the profound philosophical wisdom of socialism, and the dangers of the warming climate, that anything else was errant, foolhardy, absurd nonsense.
Conservatives couldn't wait for the latest off-the-cuff remarks from the President, his Borscht Belt, Grossinger's one-liners, his outrageous impressions, his zero tolerance for stupidity, his braggadocio, hilarity, and effusiveness.
They also loved his machismo - no idle threats, no posturing, no vain saber-rattling. He just went in and bombed the shit out of Iran's nuclear bunkers, sent a commando unit to capture and remove Maduro and sent warships to the four corners of the globe.
They admired their man's 'So, sue me' response to the threats of his opponents. He had earned his chops on the mean real estate streets of New York and nothing intimidated him. He was willing to go for the jugular at the slightest intimation, play the hardest hardball imaginable, and never lose a wink of sleep because of it.
Donald Trump should be a mystery to no one, and his magical mystery tour - a roundhouse assault on bad government, intellectual chicanery, and liberal idiocy complete with bassoons, banners, festoons, and marching bands - should be no surprise. The fact that America has never had a president like this is no excuse for ignorance.
'What next?', said Bob. 'What possibly could come next?', but that agonizing thought was the halcyon cry of Trump supporters who couldn't wait to see what new, marvelously ingenious initiative would come out of the White House.
Of course for Bob and his colleagues, it really didn't matter what came next, for they were already instinctively prepared to oppose it, to damn it, and to dismiss it. The solidarity of absolute belief is a thing of wonder. No reason, no logic, no reflection, no historical context, no philosophical thought can penetrate the perimeter. Everything is settled science for the progressive. It is an a priori world of first principles.
For the conservative, life is as it comes. A priori has no meaning or relevance whatsoever. Life is a perennial wheel of fortune whose only axis is human nature - and that hasn't changed since man came down from the trees. In the conservative zeitgeist there are no surprises, only delight in seeing what life has next in store.
'Oh, my God', Bob moaned, again belying his secularism, but the oath was out of his mouth before he knew it. Things couldn't possibly get any worse, but they did. Every day was a new assault on universal values, goodness, and right behavior.
Ironically at that very moment a parade crossed in front of his perch in Lafayette Square in front of the White House - phalanx after phalanx of blonde, blue-eyed young women, twirling batons, marching proudly to drums and cymbals, heads held high, breasts thrust forward, all smiling. The rear guard carried American flags, oversized pictures of Trump and placards saying, 'MORE TO COME!'
It was the magical mystery tour parading right before his eyes. The gall of the man! The very idea...but again Bob's voice trailed off in the March wind. He didn't get it and never would.
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