Stardom, Savior, Political Puppeteer - The Genius Of Donald Trump

 It has been almost two years since the second coming of Donald Trump, the second term of the President denied a segue after a close, contested, and still never conceded election; and the American Left is still ailing.  How could this mountebank, this vaudevillian, this charlatan possibly be President of the United States?

 

The Biden years had been, according to his acolytes, halcyon and determinative - the New Age of progressive, democratic socialism had finally arrived in America.  An era of good will, charity, compassion, and community.  Biden had promised a multicultural, multi-gender, multi-ethnic country of historic importance. Gone would be the racist, oppressive, domineering days of Donald Trump, Republicans, and conservatist ideology.  Disappeared would be notions of crass individualism, greed, untoward and undue wealth, and America would once again be the people's republic. 

'Tone it down', said a Biden advisor when one of the Administration's Congressional supporters had referred to America as 'The People's Republic', a term heretofore referred only to China and North Korea. 'Wouldn't want to give people the wrong idea'. 

And there he was again, the clown, the buffoon, the Destroyer having his way, proposing the preposterous agenda of the MAGA right, turning America back to the Stone Age, hopscotching over the evolutionary years of socialist compassion and reviving the memory of Robber Barons and the untamed, wild West. 

Barbery Byfield was at her wits end after a year of Donald Trump.  She had assumed that he would stumble, fall loose shunted off the rails, be impeached for insurrection and treason; gut no, he was still in the Oval Office reigning like a Turkish pasha, surrounded by the princes of Wall Street and a harem of blonde, blue-eyed, cornflower virgins. 

What gave him the right?

But Barbery hadn't been paying attention.  Donald Trump didn't come out of nowhere.  He was the first real America president - a man with a bar fighter's instincts, a Borscht Belt comedian's talent for insult, a New York real estate mogul's intimidation and 'so, sue me' chutzpah, and a marvelous sense of the low-brow glitz and glamour of the bourgeoisie.  Of course he was President!

Joe Biden had spent his whole political life in Congress, wheedling a few dollars here and there for Delaware in return for his vote for military armaments, welfare, and whatever turkey was basting in the oven.  He was in it for the long haul.  Delawareans wanted little from their representative for they had little and aspired little.  The state had made its political bones through tax shelters, Dupont, and Atlantic beaches - and that was a store easy to keep; so Joe Biden kept at it, a favor here, a favor there, and the voters knew that Good Ol' Joe would always be on their side. 

He was a questionable running mate for Barack Obama.  Most presidential contenders want a a Vice Presidential candidate from a high-electoral college state, but Obama demurred. He wanted a Greyhound bus driver - the company was famous for hiring drivers not smart enough to let their minds wander past the dotted lines but smart enough to keep the bus on course - a second who would Yes, Massa, the boss, never raise his voice, and come to work each morning ready to follow orders. 

Why the Democratic party thought that this wobbly old man had any chance against Donald Trump perplexes political observers.  By the time of the campaign this man who never made much sense, read from prepared scripts, and had been a political lapdog his entire life was a goner, and in a palace coup was deposed by Kamala Harris, a prolix, entitled, race-bating woman who hadn't an original idea in her head.  Again, what were they thinking?

In came Donald Trump like gangbusters.  He had suffered anonymous and scurrilous accusations, lawfare, ad hominem slurs and  insults during his first term, and was determined to payback the swine who had caused him so much grief.  Not only would he in his first days rescind all of Biden's executive orders, but he would ask Congress to repeal all the heinous assaults on the Constitution and restore the country's originalist principles. 

Since he could not run for a third term, was a billionaire twice over, and could care less about his political legacy - what was done was done - he turned political incorrectness into an art.  He was funnier than Jackie Mason and Shecky Green put together.  Manners, propriety, good taste were things for withering matrons of Beacon Hill and Nantucket. His was a new era that channeled the old.  The Wild West, prairie justice, rugged individualism and Manifest Destiny were in his blood. 

Barbery Byfield was at the end of her rope - a woman who despite beginning her progressive journey as tightly wound, strong, and well-braided as anyone - and felt herself unravelling before the disassembling nightmare of the Trump White House. How could anyone of serious purpose mount an attack on a man who played by no rules, for whom ridicule was in play no less that rational exegesis?  She had no weapons in her armory, no arrows in her quiver, no lances, axes, or spears for hand to hand combat. 

While Barbery fretted, Trump went on his Sherman-like rampage.  'The South shall never rise again', said the Union commander as he marched his way through Georgia and South Carolina, laying waste to farms, homesteads, field, and livestock. And Donald Trump was no different.  There would be nothing left of the ragged, unhinged, idiotic swing to socialism by the American Left.  None of their shibboleths would be left standing.  The way would once again be clear. 

He was the Devil incarnate to the Left but a Savior to the Right.  He was a Crusader, a knight in shining armor, a superhero, a man. They loved the way he dangled his opponents on strings, played them like a master puppeteer. Destruction and elimination of the progressive Left was not enough.  Only humiliating them, again a la Sherman, was due. 

Never has the American electorate seen a politician like Donald Trump who came out of nowhere to dominate world affairs – and who did so without a moment of hesitation, with great aplomb, and with unforgettable panache.

The Left is left on the curb, a crows’ convocation of cawing malcontents with no traction, no sex appeal, no attributable merit.  A bunch of beggars, Bowery bums, Clapp Street homeless.

Will the Trump cavalcade win the day in midterm elections this year, and hold on to the White House in 2028? Uncertain.  The Left has turned even farther askew and has put all its eggs in a Democratic Socialist basket.  Better go all the away than go out with a half-hearted whimper. Idealists love the idea of One World, reconfiguring the country to fold the wealth of the one percent  into the remaining ninety-nine, to create a free, compassionate, inclusive nation.

Idealists have no concern about bottom line economics, so the will fiddle while New York burns; but even hopeless fantasists vote. 

Whatever happens in the next two hears, no one will forget Donald Trump, a truly unique, revolutionary president.  Electoral politics in the United States will never be the same.