I wrote a blog the other day. It was
full of smirks and scorn against the piñata, called Donald Trump. The
schadenfreude made me feel smug…then squirmy …and finally suckered. I deleted
the whole thing.
The president offers himself on a plate
for ridicule with a full display of daily incompetence and imbecilities. We
write but the vitriol comes too easily. We don't need to spend our day gnawing at his bait. We are talking to ourselves. His supply of inanities is inexhaustible. I’m suspicious of the sport. Whether
his dangerous nonsense is a calculated strategy designed for our distraction or
the man can’t help himself is yet another subject for chroniclers of this new
epoch.
Hillary misspent her capital with
derisions and it got her nowhere. Trump is a gift to Bill Maher, Steven Colbert
and other comics. He keeps historians, Michael Beschloss, David McCullough and
Doris Kearns Goodwin with constant employment as talking heads. It seems to me
POTUS-45 enjoys offering himself up as human sacrifice. There is no such thing
as bad publicity for the malignant narcissist.
The time has come to reinvigorate the
Democrats with new messaging. Policy wonks do not reach many people. Few voters
read detailed position papers. As the GOP has amply demonstrated constituencies
can be formed by addressing grievances even if no concrete solutions are
offered. Folks want to feel heard and in their own language. Americans are
nothing if not consumers. The Heartland wants to be sold …be it a slogan, an
image or a new face.
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