You may have noticed that I have written several columns lately that failed to mention Donald “Bomb Them Back to the Stone Age” Trump. I thought we needed a break — me most of all.
Not long ago a very nice reader asked me to avoid politics. It’s so exhausting, she said. Some 10 years into the Trump era, I sympathize. But sometimes I … can’t … resist.
Is this Trump Derangement Syndrome? A couple of readers have accused me of having it. I start to get defensive, but then I think — don’t we all? It might be the only thing that unites us.
The left is obsessed with Trump and the right is obsessed with the left’s obsession with him — owning the libs is their bread and butter. (Trump Bread and Trump Butter will be on the shelves soon. Just wait and see.)
He is either the worst president in history or greater than Washington and Lincoln combined. He endangers us or is our savior, not a capital-S Savior, but almost.
Everywhere it’s Trump, Trump, and more Trump. He is the best president of war. He is the best president of peace. But I will get no peace while he is Trumping the nation.
It’s not just me. Most letters in the Valley News are about him, and they are 9-1 against.
He seems to want to put his name or face on everything, not just the former Kennedy Center. He wants to be on Mount Rushmore. I could see him waddling with the ducklings on Boston Common, his bust in front of Grant’s Tomb, even hanging from the Empire State Building — a King Kong for our own times.
Big business is bending the knee. McDonald’s surely will have a special edition of his beloved Big Mac — hold the lettuce, extra grease. Young people will be buying Trump energy drinks. They will keep you awake, and four hours later you’ll thirst for regime change.
Believe it or not, it might get worse. It could be Trump around the clock. We would have Trump Standard Time and Trump Savings Time. He’d switch them according to his whims.
The Upper Valley may not be immune. Dartmouth is trying to keep its head down, but he may want to rebrand some college as New Trump University. You know he’d like an Ivy.
They must already be naming stars and planets after him. And insects — invasive ones, I’d guess. And genetically modified mites that give liberals the heebie-jeebies.
Trump is going to be signing our currency soon. This is actually true. And what if he insists his mug must be on a bill? He could be on the five and Melania on the 10, or vice-versa. DON’T ANYONE FORWARD THIS IDEA TO THE WHITE HOUSE!
How can we avoid him? A week ago I noticed that Trump was all over the home page of the New York Times website. His name was in the headlines and intros a remarkable 34 times. Two additional headlines had the word president. Five referenced the White House.
The headlines were ominous. “Trump Has No Idea How to Clean Up His Mess.’’ And, “Trump Struck Iran. Now American Farmers Are Suffering.” Those were the cheeriest. And, “What Trump Is Doing to the American Language.” (Hint: He’s no Shakespeare.)
Thankfully, he was omitted from recipes for Chicken Picatta Pasta and Egg and Cheese Quesadillas. And the story on “What’s Up With Those Cool-Girl Blazers?” For all his power, he is no match for cool girls. White House spokeswoman and notorious mean girl Karoline Leavitt will deny this, viciously.
We attended the recent No Kings rally in Lebanon, but I spent most of my time gabbing with friends, neighbors and a former newspaper colleague. I told people “I’m here as a warm body,’’ someone to boost the attendance count. Still, Trump hung over Colburn Park like a cold fog.
Liberals talked in hushed tones, not out of fear, more like befuddled citizens in a “Twilight Zone” episode. A glowing meteor smashed into the outskirts of their small town overnight and the mayor and half the people went loco.
This isn’t how I wanted retirement to be. Without the storms and trials of my working years, I thought I might step back, listen to music, read, dabble in hobbies, adore our granddaughter day after day.
But no. It’s Trump in the morning, Trump in the evening, Trump at suppertime. Older readers might remember the tune.
A new national motto could be in the works. E Pluribus Trump — Out of Many, Trump. He would love the sound of it. Please, please, please, DO NOT let this idea leave the Upper Valley.
So yes, I do have a touch of Trump derangement. Doesn’t he?
The writer lives in West Lebanon. He can be reached at dan.mackie@yahoo.com.
