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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