TRUMP:
I'd Like To Sing A Little Ditty For You

Prelude To A Purge
 


Listening to Melania Trump’s speech at the Republican National Convention made me feel both sad and uncomfortable as I kept envisioning Eva Gabor as Lisa Douglas in ‘Green Acres’ — even if borrowing script dialogue elements from ‘Petticoat Junction’, as it turned out. The thing is, Eva was likable — and one shouldn’t be conjuring her image, prompted by Melania, when Zsa Zsa was clearly the cheaper of the two sisters as the more appropriate associative connection to ’The Trump Collection’. Still, in America, cheap had increasingly become the new elegance — and Donald Trump, its Patron Saint.

Trump stands as the poster child manifestation of one having all of the wealth — and none of the breeding — as one who possesses some pricey real estate while he, himself, reeks of ‘low-rent’. His manner. His tortured use of even elementary language with a smattering of Tourettes Syndrome (despite Trump's claim of having the ability to use - quote - “the best words”). The lack of poise. The complete absence of sophistication, in both demeanor — as well as in his staggering inability to understand concepts beyond the most primitive and binary. His gestalt, in short.

Born of New York, but 'smelling New Jersey’, even his generally vulgar displays of opulence find themselves in the triangulated crosshairs of the gaudy, the tacky, and the garish. It’s really only one ascension-step away from Jake winning the Power Ball jackpot and adorning his new Cadillac with gold-tone rims and hood ornament. Not that a large share of Trump's followers would notice, mind you. Their own principle relationship to breeding is one of inbreeding.

Much like Zirconia diamonds on the Home Shopping Network where a sizable swatch of the population have become accustomed and comfortable with fakes — enamored of them, even — Trump offers the cheap and cheesy, shiny object appeal ... if in poorly tailored, ill-fitting suits. The kitschy lounge act of American politics — one who plays to the room. Moreover, within that room, he principally plays to the cheap seats. And, in America, the cheap seats are the furniture outlet knock-offs of La-Z-Boy recliners with integrated cup holders — the ‘inferior-decorator’ leisure appointment of choice for those who yell at their television screens, expecting the Liquid Crystal Display to hear their Miller Time displeasure, their country-fried angst.

And yes, many xenophobes and bigots have seemingly found a comfortable, adopted home in the Trump candidacy — because, no — it’s not the Bull Connor days anymore. But I do hasten to pose the question, does this mean that Trump, himself, is a racist — on a personal level? … As what many might regard as a surprising answer … perhaps not — at least not in the ’traditional’ sense. I can’t be entirely sure. As drop-jawed as many readers may be with this suggestion, read on …

In the course of my adulthood — debatable in its existence — I’ve come to encounter those of the Trump profile … in part. The truth is, as those who've had the resources to spend the entirely of their lives in the rarefied air of self-imposed sensory deprivation tanks, safely quarantined from the street below, they seldom encounter — or even much consider —  minorities, outside of their utilitarian nature. And even here, they most commonly have go-between buffers to help facilitate the utility.

Yes, it can be argued that this, in itself, is racism — but it isn't consciously so. It’s a genre I refer to as the ‘inadvertent racist’, of which there are many — inclusive of those on the liberal side, I should add — just with different manifistations. After all, one often can’t ‘feel' — good or bad — those they’ve never touched … or for those unable to touch them, in kind. Their relationship to the ‘great unwashed’ is founded far more in facility than familiarity. Said another way, outside of existing as remote ’service providers' … "those people" … don’t much exist for them. They don’t have to.

This, I hasten to add, is not necessarily true of all who find themselves advantaged from the moment of their birth. The Rockefellers would generationally evolve in time, as would the Roosevelts. But the Trump family has proven to be far too schticky nouveau riche to have experienced much - if any - evolution. It’s hard to completely and accurately assess. They may have been lighting farts just a generation ago, for all I know. With this, Donald Trump would cite one of the presidential debates as being (quote) “very elegant”. This, because, in Trump’s world, such would be regarded as … “elegance”. He doesn’t have the breeding to make more acute distinctions.

This, in a related way, is precisely why the Trumps come across as being so uncultured and — as an ironic choice of words — ‘classless’ ... not that some of you reading this would ever see it, I know. For others, they note a profound disconnect between Trump Junior’s canned “performances” and the same Trump ‘Mini-Me’ in extemporaneous interview. At least the son wears better suits .. even if trying to bring Brylcreem back into the mainstream of popular culture.

But back to that glitzy room, it may surely be argued that playing to the bigotry of others may well be worse than actually being a racial sectarian, yourself. The Lounge Act knows the crowd-pleasers — and uses that very crowd to assure their continued engagement — especially for ’the season'. The sentiments, the phobias … the songs — hitting all the right notes, ringing Pavlovian, ushering the assured response.

Trump as Lounge Act: “I’d like to sing a little ditty for you. I think you all know it ... Feel free to sing along.”

Still, the Trump-O-Bots cite potential Commander in Chief credentials based on Trump having “owned 500 businesses”. But it wouldn’t be unusual to amass such a number or entrepreneurial entities when the lion’s share of them celebrated an operational shelf-life of a Bic disposable lighter … 500 businesses isn’t a mark of someone with self-assured leadership abilities; it’s a real-world demonstration of someone aimlessly throwing things at walls to see what sticks — and on other people’s dimes. Nevertheless, Trump - himself - would cite ‘consultations with himself’ and “watching the shows” as his night school, General Equivalency Diploma that should rightly gain him entrance into The White House. And why shouldn’t he be granted such access. Trump, after all, (quote) "knows more about ISIS than the Generals”. Silly Generals. They clearly weren’t watching the shows.

I can advise you this: Anyone who cites any of Trump’s collective, Hobo-Stew experiences as being in the least bit transposable into governing a government — no less as Commander in Chief — may be safely dismissed without fear of missing something in their counterfeit wisdom or counsel. These are the people who otherwise conduct current affairs summits in donut shops and country bars. Talk Radio participants, in short. They don’t reason, they imagine — with the socio-political acumen of a 5 year old.

Moreover, the Trumpophiles clearly don’t know how their government works — seemingly no more than the candidate of their adulation. Trump, as one who claims, “I, alone, can fix it” — of course … can’t. I’m not the one saying this, mind you — his own website does ….. or did. Now, gone are the words that previously appeared, such as “this will require an act of Congress” and “Congress must act …”, along similar statements in the fine print of Trump’s own campaign website. At some point, Team Trump thought it best not to rely upon the naive assurance that few of his followers would actually read the website, anyway — or, for many, would possess the ability to read at all. With that, his online promotional presence would get the Truncated-Trump treatment.

As to his off-line presence, his frothing fanbase doesn’t have to wait long for the sedatives to wear off, administered by his management in an effort to manage the innately unmanageable Trump.

Still, in a more recent American air, permeated with an ‘anti-intellectualism’ mood, a fairly sizable portion of a dumbed-down country would be ‘wet ’n ready' for the Trump dialect as the preferred alternative to intellect. The precursor, of course, could be found in the Tea Party movement — principally comprised of the unlucky-in-love, unlucky-in-life embittered malcontents dissatisfied with their lots in life … most commonly at their own hands.

But while the Tea Party believed it could seize conservatism - if with its own virulent strain - simply by co-opting some of conservatism’s mantras, one part of the conservative treatise they seemingly couldn’t adopt was that of “personal responsibility” — instead looking to place blame on others for their personal misery, no matter how internalized the sources. How convenient. Still, if only as a social function, the Tea Party did manage to bring together people of like-mindless with a festive, Costume Ball flair.

THE GOOD NEWS — for both liberals and, far more significantly, Republicans who remember a more noble and dignified conservatism — is that we’ve been here before. And NOW, whether Donald Trump wins of loses, is the opportunity for the Republican party and — by extension — a conservatism more true to itself ... to ‘purge' - just as it was forced to do in the past …

THE PURGE AS CONSERVATISM’S NEW OPPORTUNITY

Father Charles Coughlin’s last radio program would be in 1939 — as Coughlin would frequently use his syndicated weekly program to warn people of the ‘money-changing’ Jewish bankers while advancing the merits of Hitler ideology — or at least parts of it. Both Democrats and the day’s ‘Establishment Republicans’ were the godless evil entities that had given us the depression, among most other social ills … along with the Jews, of course. He enjoyed a listenership, relative to the day’s population of the 1930s, larger than that of Rush Limbaugh. Once a Roosevelt, ‘New Deal’ enthusiast and labor rights spokesperson, Father Coughlin had seemingly begun to drink just a little too much of the sacrificial wine where the blood of Christ had inadvertently produced the early prototype mind of Mel Gibson. He soon became, in short, an extremist — and one with a sizable following. It took a World War to “purge him” — and his mass of followers were soon distracted by that very war ... if for only a time.

But by the mid to late 1950s, conservatism had become … weird. It had managed to attract the wicked-stupid and the omni-phobic. Should you think that this is simply a liberal assessment, it would be — to his credit — William Buckley Jr. who endeavored to bring back (or perhaps in its premiere form) ‘intellectualism’ to conservatism and, by association, the Republican Party — additionally giving it some renewed dignity in the bargain. Buckley, as a notable example, sought to “purge” The John Birch Society — among other wack-job entities — from the ranks of conservatism … or what it had become. John McManus, President of the John Birch Society, in kind, authored a book — and pay attention here — entitled, ‘William F. Buckley - Pied Piper for The Establishment’.

Ring familiar, boys and girls?

Fast-wind tape some decades later … to 2010. With the emergence of the Tea Party, in what was then described as a ‘post-Buckley era’, conservatism had become … weird again, of surrealistic proportions. The CPAC conference would now enjoy ... The John Birch Society as a sponsor. Indeed, the Tea Party — more than any other halogen-lit showcase of emotional illness — had successfully managed to spark a national conservative environment that allowed the previously forgotten fringe lunacy of The Birchers to raise their ugly heads … yet again, in comfort — and 'go mainstream’.

Which brings us full-circle back to Donald Trump and his candidacy as the new apex of conservatism’s long-acquired contaminants.

Now is the time — even independent of the guilt-by-association, Republican party — when conservatism, itself, has become so degraded by its toxins, it’s reached a point of critical mass that ushers only two feasible paths — as found in only two possible words ...

Purge or Dirge.

— Joseph —

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