It's time to put an end, once and for all, to the use of the word "stupid" when it comes to Trump supporters.
Because the word "stupid", no matter how accurately it might apply to some, does not apply to all of those who are still exalting and extolling the boy king while they are swooning and swaying to the strains of Lee Greenwood's pride in gladly standing up next to them.
What's required, and more reasonable, is a more factual description of the mindset of those who worship at the alt-altar.
More factual description coming up.
Saturday night (29 April), the annual White House Correspondents Association Dinner was held in Washington, D.C. The dinner is a yearly tradition enjoyed, and honored, since 1921. Since 1983, it has taken to the form of a comedy roast, generally hosted by a prominent comedian and, in the format of roast, of course, a night of lampooning and comic jabbing of the sitting president and his administration.
Besides the fact that the dinner is a charity affair, benefiting a scholarship for gifted students in college journalism programs around the nation, it is, also, a remarkable display of an uncommon existence in a world filled with oppression and despotism and dictatorship. The freedom to, literally, make fun of the leader of a nation without fear of resentment, retribution or retaliation.
And, probably more critically, the participation of that leader, illustrating a personality trait irrefutably essential in someone who has the genuine ability and skillset to motivate and inspire an entire nation of citizens.
A sense of humor.
In recent years, critics have offered that the dinner has increasingly become an example of the "coziness" between the White House press corps and the sitting administration. The implication, of course, being that the press corps is incapable of maintaining an adversarial attitude toward the occupant of the Oval if it has dinner, a few drinks and a few laughs with that occupant one day out of every 365.
Personally, I think the case can be made that those buzzkilling critics are overlooking the advantages of employing one of the classic techinques in dealing with adversaries.
Keep your friends close. But keep your enemies closer.
The ability to use a sense of humor as a strategy, though, requires having a sense of humor in the first place. And a much keener than average mind.
Which brings us around to Donald Trump being a no-show at this year's dinner.
And, more to the point, the show that he put on in answer to the show that was put on at this year's dinner.
Cue those who continue to exalt and extol while swooning and swaying to the strains of Lee Greenwood's pride in gladly standing up next to them.
The irony can't be lost, on those with the aforementioned keener minds, that Trump has, either by devious design or neurotic need, tomato, tohmahto, gifted the nation with a new tradition, one to surely be repeated for, at least, the next 1600 days or so or until he no longer resides at 1600, whichever comes first.
Taking its place alongside the iconic American traditions of "if at first you don't succeed, try, try again" and "when in doubt, don't", the 45th President of the United States presents, "when you don't like the tally, just hold a rally".
In this case, the "not playing fair", in Trump's spin, is the arrival of the admittedly over-hyped, but inevitable, road marker labeled "First 100 Days" and with the arrival, the aforementioned tally of accomplishment or lack, there of.
- not a single legislative achievement....not one....zip, zero, nada, nothing, no way, Jose
- the lowest approval ratings of any new commander in chief since World War II
- several key, promised and assured immigration goals held up by the courts
- the failure to deliver the much and often promised health care reform, including repeal and replacement of Obamacare
- after, literally, years of loud and repeated civilian criticism of Obama's issuing of executive orders, the issuance of more executive orders that any other President in history with the exception of Truman.
- understandable criticism of his appointing his daughter and her husband to key White House positions of power
- credible allegations of possible ties between his campaign aides and Russia
- and, all in all, we must remember not to forget the wall....or, to paraphrase 60's hitmaker Donovan, "first, there is a wall / and then there is no wall / and then there is."
Well, hell. With that kind of a tally, no wonder he called a rally.
Because that's what Donald does.
I offered up in a podcast a few days ago about the need to end comparisons of Donald Trump to Adolf Hitler for, if no other reason, the comparisons were ultimately invalid.
And I summed it up by saying, plainly, bigly, if you will, that Donald Trump is not Adolf Hitler.
Donald Trump is, it turns out, Frankie Merman.
Merman, one of many interesting and amusing characters who inhabited the world brought to us each and every week on Seinfeld, nicknamed "Fragile Frankie" was, of course, a childhood acquaintance of Jerry's who, in adulthood, carried on with a tradition of his own from that childhood. When someone did something that hurt him or his feelings, Frankie ran into the woods, dug a hole for himself and sat in it, crying for hours.
Now, simply substitute a Harrisburg, Pennsylvania expo center for the woods, substitute a stage and a podium for the hole, add in a few thousand exalters and extollers swooning and swaying to Lee, finally, substitute an hour of whining for the hours of crying and, voila'...
...Fragile Frankie Merman morphs right before our very eyes into "Delicate Donny Trump"
Getting his boo boo kissed and made better by all that love. Making memories go away of those meanies who just won't play nice with him in Washington, or anywhere else that 75 million Americans, give or take, live, Americans who would vote yea right now for abortion if that law was limited to legalizing the abortion of this increasingly bad parody of a presidency.
There's not a bottle of iodine or Mercurochrome or even aloe vera big enough to salve the sting that Delicate Donny feels when all those meanies slap him around.
And chances are pretty good that the National Park Service wouldn't take kindly to Donny trying to dig a big hole in Rock Creek Park.
But who needs ointments or excavations when you can slather on the adoration and hold yet another coronation?
Like an addict in pain, a junkie who cannot deal with the hurt or the obstacles or, even the simple task at hand, without the boost, the buzz, the rush of pleasure, the artificial adrenaline of accolade, poured on without measure or limit or condition by the exalters and extollers, swooning and swaying to Lee's pride in gladly standing up next to them.
Exalters and extollers who can read a tally as clearly as the rest of us but just don't care.
Fuck the tally. It's time for a rally.
Which brings us back to putting an end to the use of the word "stupid" when it comes to Trump supporters.
Because "stupid" simply doesn't get the descriptive job done.
The word you're looking for is dope.
No, not "dopes", as in "people who clearly recognize what a failure this man is but steadfastly refuse to admit, let alone accept, it are all dopes."
No...dope.
As in the slang term for drugs.
The kind of drugs junkies need to deal with the meanies.
Junkies. And crybabies.
Like Fragile Frankie Merman.
And Delicate Donny Trump.
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