The past year has been the exact reverse of that old saying, “time flies when you’re having fun” – thanks to 45.
It’s been quite a year. The exact reverse of that whole “time flies when you’re having fun” thing. These last twelve months have slogged by like cold molasses riddled with bat guano dripping through a tightly woven bamboo sieve. Seems like decades since Donald Trump became the 45th President of the United States. Shouldn’t he be termed out by now?
After a mere 12 months, his problems have stacked up like a bouquet of bombs from the Acme Co. being wafted aloft by helium balloons approaching an archery range for easily distracted pre-teens. Anybody who watched the televised White House bipartisan meeting can tell you the former reality TV star exhibits a mastery of his office on the level of a duck-billed platypus playing a harpsichord.
His administration has been marked by division, derision, indecision and a distinct lack of supervision. Confusion, seclusion, delusion & collusion. Lazy, hazy, crazy: cheesy, sleazy, wheezy, breezy and enough turmoil to make the entire world both uneasy and/or a little queasy.
During the first 365 days of Dopey Donald’s Reign of Error, we have survived an unending stream of blatant lies, graphic insults, myopic intransigence, illiterate cluelessness, overt racism, monumental chaos, nuclear intimidation and a general coarsening of the culture to where the evangelical community is forced to reconcile a porn star payoff with its own staggering sense of self righteousness. Futilely.
In the recent book, Fire and Fury, author Michael Wolff intimated that 100% of White House insiders believe their boss is a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic, if you catch his drift. The wheel is spinning but the hamster is dead. Snuck into the gene pool while the lifeguard was chatting up the girl who runs the hot dog stand. Has the same mental capacity that God gave a bucket of hair.
Then, as if to stamp the book with his own fuzzy seal of approval, the former New York City real estate developer demonstrated that no matter how many allies he antagonizes, family members he insults, staffers he impugns, fellow Republicans he alienates, or conventions he flaunts, his own worst enemy remains… himself.
Attempting to stem backlash from Wolff’s book, the president tweeted, (and these are quotes) that he is “like, really smart.” And a “stable genius.” A statement that most experts interpret as meaning he’s really good with horse manure. Which probably comes in handy when interacting with Sloppy Steve Bannon.
Trump also twisted himself into a rhetorical battle with Kim Jong Un over whose nuclear button is bigger. When we all know it has to be Ivanka’s dad, who needs the larger expanse to accommodate his diminutive hands. These two should be locked into a cell on an abandoned freighter in the South Pacific so that they can measure and get it over with.
Then the brief government shut down precipitated an eruption of the Blame Game that witnessed both Republicans and Democrats flinging mud at each other with so much excess hitting the president, many referees questioned the actual target.
Senate Majority leader Mitch McConnell said “I’m looking for something the president supports” making it sound like a mythical beast. Less unicorn, more dodo bird. And all this has gone down in the first three weeks of 2018. Fasten your seat belts folks, it’s going to be a bumpy year.