Did you ever get the feeling that that you’ve become an
extra in someone else's movie?
For almost two years now I’ve resisted that notion but it’s
time to ‘fess up that like everyone else in these United States my life is being
controlled by our obsessive-compulsive president.
I’ve consistently refused to take any responsibility for the
everyday freak show that the country has morphed into. Why should I - I’d vote
for Packie McCarthy’s jennet before President Trump.
I’m a New Yorker – we know Mr. Trump and have to the best of
our abilities ignored his Fifth Avenue shenanigans.
I’ve never experienced the wonders of The Apprentice, and would
run a tabloid mile from Omarosa, Stormy, Ted Nugent and the other hapless
minions who flock to the great man’s orbit.
I do however follow current affairs and am well aware of the
swamp-dwellers, sycophants, and borderline psychopaths like Manafort, Flynn,
Miller, Cohen, et al who “know a good thing when they see it coming” as my
granny used to say.
But for the most part I’ve lived in my own cocoon with the
volume turned way down so that I can ignore Mr. Trump’s egotistical braying.
About a year ago I even began to marvel at the man - for
I’ve known his type in the music business, but even those bozos tended to eventually
pass out after a night of blow and bluster.
How does the president keep it up? Doesn’t he ever tire of
his own narcissism? I’ve long since learned the answer.
Up until recently I was able to rationalize that at least
he’s not as bad as George W. Bush, he hasn’t invaded Iraq and upended a whole region
of this planet along with millions of lives.
And the economy is ticking along nicely, particularly for
those invested in the stock market and those in the top 5%.
However, the upcoming tax giveaways to corporations for the
most part will not be reinvested in jobs or workers, but will be used to buy
back stock and increase the already massive corporate wealth.
Regardless, the piper must inevitably be paid and a deficit
bill of one trillion dollars looms in the near future.
Guess who’ll be paying for it – Social Security, Medicare,
and Medicaid recipients.
Brace yourself, Bridget, the fix is in, and don’t expect any
mercy from either Fifth or Pennsylvania Avenues.
Compassion is not our president’s strongest suit - witness
the ongoing separation of children from their asylum-seeking parents.
I’m apparently not the only one suffering Trump fatigue for
the once deficit-fearing Republican Party is now firmly aboard the president’s
good ship fiscal lollipop.
Mr. Trump himself does appear to be having a little buyer’s
remorse for he has now turned his attention to the Fed. The “king of debt” knows
that any meaningful rise in interest rates could send the trillion-dollar deficit
ballooning even further into the stratosphere.
I almost feel churlish in bringing up such awkward realities.
Far better to enjoy my own tax rebate crumbs – rock that swamp, President Trump,
to hell with draining it!
Except that no matter what kind of earplugs I wear I can’t
tune out the 24/7 braying. If only Melania would steal his phone, lock the
bedroom door and throw away the key for a week!
Maybe I should just jump on board the outraged liberal
impeachment express, except that – to the best of our knowledge - Mr. Trump was
fairly elected, and you can’t impeach someone just because you don’t like the
cut of his jib.
That day may yet come, particularly if Russian money and
meddling played a significant part in the 2016 election – the president did look
like a scolded little boy during his press conference with Mr. Putin.
Until then there’s always Joe Hill’s advice, “Don’t mourn,
organize!” The November elections are close and 23 or more judicious victories will
ensure that some legal restraints can be put on our own would be Tsar.
In the meantime, check your sanity – and your earplugs –
every morning, leave twittering to the birds, beware of deep state and fake
news, and don’t forget your novena to St. Jude!
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