A short aside:
Well, it’s Sunday evening and the troll that follows me around just signed up for ALL my blogs. She has no interest in any of them, but just wants to know what I’m saying. She’s a troublemaker from way back and, after having shut down a couple of blogs because of her, I’ve decided not to do that anymore. I’ve blocked her from commenting and don’t have to read any inane notes. That’s enough for me.
Isn’t the Internet great?
I’ll be back in a day or so with more on the election and life in general.
Hey, Troll. Get a life of your own!! You are not part of mine.
Bret Baier, the Fox media guy who will be one of the moderators for the Republican debate next week, says he’s not sleeping well. From TIME online:
“I’d be lying to you if I didn’t say that I have woken up in cold sweats wondering how I’m going to deal with a Donald Trump who’s not listening,” debate co-moderator Bret Baier told TIME earlier this month.
Word is out that Trump will be a regular choir boy for the debate, all sweetness and statesmanship and polite as hell, but that’s no guarantee it will really happen. Remember, folks, the one thing a narcissist hates and will not tolerate is being corrected or told “No.” Or to stop talking. Being reminded that time’s up is exactly that.
The response will be explosive and predictable.
I think the debate set-up is all wrong when it comes to a candidate like Donald Trump, the kid in the schoolyard who never wants to play fair. Of course, they could just shut off his microphone, but I suggest a different set-up.
How about putting the Hair of State front and center in one of those dunking chairs like we see at county fairs and carnivals? As long as he speaks his piece in the allotted time and acts like a reasonable human being, he stays in his chair. If he gets combative – and he will – Baier can pull the plug and the Donald, hair and all, will drop into the water tank below.
No kidding, after a couple of dunks, the Donald will either storm off the stage shouting about how rich he is (which he just as likely will do anyway) or he’ll get himself in line (fat chance of that).
I was thinking yesterday about the Hair’s propensity for telling us all that he’s really, really rich, and I flashed back to a night many years ago when I was visiting a school friend in San Francisco.
We were in our early twenties and she lived in a great part of the city which, like New York, never slept. We got hungry about midnight and went out to get sandwiches at a place down the block. While we were walking back, a couple of guys in suits and ties approached us, apparently thinking we were (a) attractive enough to approach or (b) little sisters of the night looking to score. We ignored them (boring out-of-towners in suits) and then one of them, clearly annoyed, said, “We’re really rich, girls!”
We, of course, burst out laughing and they went away, but lately I’ve been trying to recall — exactly how did that guy’s hair look anyway?
Jeez, I hope he’s not still trying to prove something to a couple of twenty-somethings in San Francisco.
Just when the Republican pre-pre-pre-primary hoo-hah can’t get any more bizarre, along comes Rick Perry who is so mad at Donald Trump he has now challenged the wannabe Hair of State to a pull-up contest. I’m not making this up.
This could change everything.
In addition to the pull-up contest, the Republican debate will no doubt also include other all-time favorite debate tactics in which participants:
– refuse to relinquish the microphone when their time is up
– engage in eye-rolling and other nasty faces while others are speaking
– interrupt with snorts and not-so-subtle shouts of “You lie!”
– whistle “Dixie”
– play the old favorite “Who’s Got the Biggest?”
– bang footwear on the table
– hold up signs announcing the wealth in their campaign chests or, in Donald Trump’s case, simply saying “I’m really, really rich”
– sling mud at 40 paces
– argue with the moderator
– do the “I’m mad as hell and I’m not taking it anymore” stomp
– get into full-out fisticuffs before the evening is over.
Folks, this is a creative and combative crew. Anything is possible. Jerry Springer will be on call if needed.
Before the debate, Mr. Trump will hand out cheesy ballpoint pens misprinted with the words “Trup Development.” At the end of the debate he will collect the pens from any Republican he believes was not “fair and reasonable” to him.
As the stage lights dim and debaters head for the wings, Mr. Trump will continue to argue loudly that he does too have the biggest but it’s really cold in the room.
NOTE TO DONALD TRUMP: If you’re going to have a pitbull New York lawyer on your team, at least find one who knows the law. Seems to me, Donald, the next words out of your mouth to Mr. Michael Cohen should be, “You’re fired!”
As for Ivana’s new note of support for the Donald, am I the only one who wonders whether or not, the words came from Donald himself? That last line is the giveaway for me. “Incidentally, I think he would make an incredible president.” To my linguist’s ear it just has the ring of “I’m really, really rich.”
Maybe you think he’d be incredible, Ivana (or Donald as the case may be), but a hell of a lot of us think an offensive, narcissistic blowhard is the last person we want as our Hair of State.
For the record, those of us who’ve been through divorces know that things can get tense, and I’ll grant it might be that Ivana did exaggerate the tiniest bit in her allegation that she was raped, although it’s a pretty serious allegation. Still, things do get said in the heat of discussions.
In my own case, given that a Trump-like fortune was not involved, the hottest our discussion got was about a couple of pieces of art.
So, (in a Nixon-esque gesture of fingers in the air), let me say this: My point this morning is not about the alleged rape.
It’s about the incompetence of Trump’s legal pit bull, Michael Cohen, who has demonstrated a temper at least as bad as Trump’s and let go with a threatening, irresponsible tirade when he doesn’t know Shinola about the law in question. “Clear case law” is a joke in the man’s mouth.
Charles Dickens was right: “The law is an ass.” Or to be perfectly true to Mr. Dickens, “The law is a ass.” And in this case the ass is apparently advising the yappy dancing dog in the tutu.
If I sit too long in one quiet place looking out the window on a summer day, my idle mind begins to drift. I happily become a child again wondering about all that’s around me.
Why is the sky blue? What holds the clouds up there? If I keep digging in the backyard, will I end up in China? How do the bees know where the flowers are? If Fred leaves Cincinnati at 5:00 and Sally leaves Indianapolis at 7:00…Believe me, my mind never drifts that far.
I was happy to meet a professional mathematician a few years ago who admitted that he froze anytime someone started a sentence with the words, “If one train leaves Philadelphia at 6:00 and another train…” And you thought you were the only one who failed story problems.
After I read the so-called news this beautiful summer morning, I did sit for a while and look out my window and my mind did drift, but I couldn’t get in the groove of being a child again. The questions about everything around me kept coming back to the present.
Questions like: Why is the first Republican debate taking place in August, a year or so away from the nominating convention? How did good people get elected before Fox News existed? Why are people who know better using such ugly language in public like invoking the Holocaust? How can Donald Trump’s name be worth $3 billion?
But mostly, I wondered how it happened that preparing for an election debate to inform us about the people who want to lead our country for four years morphed into a Jerry Springer special with slurs and spitting and interrupting and shouting with the possibility of outright pushing and shoving while the audience whistles and applauds?
As a child, I didn’t have the answers to my questions. As an adult, I have the answer to this one.
I once visited a large metropolitan zoo whose big promotional claim at the time was four baby tigers. These little creatures were beautiful and playful but wild animals all the same. Our family happened to get there at feeding time and we watched as the zookeeper tossed four chunks of red meat into the cage. Each little tiger grabbed one and then the zookeeper said to the crowd, “Now watch this.”
He tossed a fifth piece of meat into the cage and all hell broke loose. It was a funny kind of hell that exposed the animal natures of those creatures. Each of the four wanted that fifth piece of meat, but didn’t want to give up the one already claimed. A hilarious show of greed, bullying, prancing, slapping, and maneuvering ensued including the tiger who kept one paw on his first piece of meat while he stretched his body as far as possible to lay a paw on the fifth piece only to be knocked over by another greedy cat.
I tell you this story because it holds the answer to my questions about all the bad behavior among the Republican candidates.
The Media are the zookeepers.
Fox News, CNN, your local reporters, the big guys and gals in DC and NY and LA, the political bloggers looking for more followers, the Google News algorithm – they’re all in on it, reporting with gusto the latest of the worst, throwing that fifth piece of meat into the Republican fray. Hourly. And the candidates will do anything to grab it.
Or with regard to the debate, get enough headlines and column inches and percentage points to be invited to the big debate no matter how demeaning the process may be for them. Instead of asking how presidential they could be, they’re asking what kind of stupid pet trick they can do to get more points.
Sadly, the media rarely go for the high road. They’ve put us all on a low road by turning a group of fairly sensible adults who might otherwise be beautiful tigers into a stupid pet act of yappy little dogs dancing in tutus. The media moguls are cheering.
The world, however, is watching and the zoo is coming to a town near you. Soon. Very soon.
Sometimes I hate it when I’m right.
Two days ago I noted that Donald Trump is the kind of brat who hates not getting his way and makes whoever prevents that pay. Big.
This morning in the news come the not unexpected announcements that he’s seriously considering a Third Party run for President. The Democrats are cheering. The Republicans are going to pay. Big.
But it’s not the announcement itself that caught my eye. A lot of us have been expecting it. It was Donald Trump’s reason for the announcement that caught my eye. As the New York Times reported: “I’ll have to see how I’m being treated by the Republicans,” Mr. Trump said. “Absolutely, if they’re not fair, that would be a factor.”
Standard brat talk.
Third party candidates are not new, but they generally run on something more substantial than a petulant whine.
Donald Trump has been busy insulting everybody in the Republican party like the brat he is and now he uses the responses to this bad behavior as his reason to go Third Party: They’re not being fair and not treating him well.
He hasn’t criticized their politics. He’s gone for the personal, ad hominem attacks – the first resort of the bully.
Or in the lingo of the schoolyard brat: “So what if I said you were stupid. How come you won’t let me play?”
I’m not sure in what alternate universe Donald Trump is residing or building new casinos at the moment, but the words despicable dictator and emotional abuse come to mind. And this behavior is the keystone of the narcissist. “I can treat you any way I want, but if you say or do anything back, you’ll regret it.”
The idea that Donald Trump is a narcissist is hardly news, but up to now he’s mostly just been doing the dance of the narcissistic clown. Now he’s beginning to show us what happens when narcissism and big big big money get together. “I’m really, really rich.” Code for “Don’t get in my way, because I’m King of the World, Ma!”
People caught in relationship with narcissists are hostages, and the advice to them is to get out because narcissistic brats don’t care how much damage they do and they rather enjoy doing it.
Take a look at the photos appearing of Donald Trump. Do you think he’s feeling bad about a damned thing he’s said or done? Or might do in the future?
All I can say is “Save yourself, America! Run as fast as you can!”