Wednesday, 26 April 2017
Dear Mr President,
Every certified body-language analyst in the country has long since noted and cataloged your penchant for prolonged handshakes culminating in pulling the handshakees forward as a demonstration of your power over them. This is known in the Index of Abnormal Psychological Behaviors of Insecure Putzes as the “Insecure putz’s power grab penchant (hand)” – distinct from but often observed in connection with the “Insecure putz’s power grab penchant (pussy)”.
Rigorous peer-reviewed research has demonstrated that the ostensible meaning of these acts (friendship or sexual attraction) is left initially unconsummated because of deep-seated anxiety about self-worth and is indeed left unrequited until followed up with a compensatory demonstration of net-worth, which leads to a transactional display of reciprocally meaningless feelings. I think everybody knows this.
This disorder is characterized by thrusting a finger at someone, either at the end of an extended arm or with the hand shaped like a pistol, ostensibly to introduce that person to an audience, but really to demonstrate the power of the pointer (that’s you, in case you’re not following) to create importance in the pointee.
But my own research has documented a rare and hitherto unnoted behavior – which I have tentatively labeled the “Insecure putz’s power-pointing penchant” – and with which you are clearly afflicted. This disorder is characterized by thrusting a finger at someone, either at the end of an extended arm or with the hand shaped like a pistol, ostensibly to introduce that person to an audience, but really to demonstrate the power of the pointer (that’s you, in case you’re not following) to create importance in the pointee. The vigor of the pointing indicates that the finger is an instrument of creation and control (there are implications, but I don’t have space here).
A classic instance is the pointing at “My African American” at a rally last June – the words corroborating the gesture and labeling the black guy, whose name you did not know though you claimed to have known him for a month, as your creation and possession.
Your introduction of Mike Pence at the convention provided instances of the pistol version and one interesting variation in which you simply hooked your thumb backwards at him as if to say, “I’m with Stupid”. Pence looked down deprecatingly to demonstrate that he knew his place.
Your pistol-pointing at Melania after her convention speech was classic – and to you, justified. You plucked her out of obscurity, made her rich, and then created her First Lady – and the nature of your possession was clearly communicated by the finger pointed quite pointedly at her breasts.
Tuesday, 25 April 2017
Dear Mr President,
I have some suggestions for marking the completion of your victorious 100-day march across the American landscape, filling the rivers with coal waste and the promise of high-end mining jobs, the air with smoke and the mirror images of the factories of the 1950's, the cities with cops and ICE agents who can pursue the American Dream of order without the undue interference of law, and all Americans with the comforting knowledge that American bombs are falling on people who are not Americans. It serves them right.
So take a break from the rigors of your rhetorical presidency and swagger a bit. Here are some ideas:
- Host a barbecue for the cabinet and congressional leaders at which the last reserves of Trump Steaks are burned black over open-pit coal fires. Have huge bowls of potato salad made with polyunsaturated “Michelleonnaise”. Call attention to the plume of thick black smoke rising over Mar-a-Lago as a return to traditional values.
- Have Secretary of Housing Ben Carson take you on a tour of public housing on the south side of Chicago. If you encounter a broken elevator, jog up the stairs to demonstrate that there is nothing to whine about.
- Visit a homeless shelter in DC with Treasury Secretary Stephen Mnuchin. If the residents recognize him as the banker who evicted them in 2008, have a good laugh to show there are no hard feelings. Follow up with an impromptu seminar on prospering in a depression through wise investment.
- Visit the liposuction ward of the Mayo clinic with Secretary Tom Price to congratulate patients on choosing healthcare plans with the right coverage for their needs.
- Give an uplifting speech at a reunion of Trump University graduates at Mar-a-Lago just to show them what they missed. Suggested title: “There’s One Born Every Minute”.
- Have Jared take you to high mass (or whatever they call it) at a synagogue. (This is not the place where you kneel on a rug with your butt in the air.) Wear a MAGA cap instead of one of those beanies. Walk around shaking hands and reminding people of your historic victory. Mention your buddy Bibi frequently.
- Demonstrate your vaunted weapon of unpredictability by visiting a carrier in the Persian Gulf, then with your eyes closed put your finger on the map and order that place wasted. Note: if your finger comes down on US troops, friendly sheikdoms, or anywhere in Israel, take another turn.
Monday, 24 April 2017
Dear Mr President,
I’ve received another email from the White House – this time entries from your diary. I’m assuming that you sent them yourself, as you did with that tax return for the year you were legal, but before I publish them, I want to be sure the entries are authentic. They’re terrific – in the etymological sense – because they reveal you as human, the sort of guy real Americans could have a beer with. In fact they remind me a lot of a guy I do drink beer with, Big Lester Gufstason, the bouncer down at the Retrofit.
8 March 2017:Dear Diary, Dinner with Cruz and wife, lovely, tasty, amply proportioned; and his wife was nice looking, after all. Lobsters Rockefeller with mashed potatoes and pepper gravy. Explained to Cruz what I said during the campaign was “Lion Ted”, a compliment to his king-beastly looks. He bought it, the sap. Blueberry pie for dessert, alamode, with extra mode.
Explained to Cruz what I said during the campaign was “Lion Ted”, a compliment to his king-beastly looks. He bought it, the sap. Blueberry pie for dessert, alamode, with extra mode.
17 March 2017: Dear Diary, Met briefly with German First Lady Merdel this afternoon. What a drag, reminds me of Nanny Gehorsumzwingen – the old man picked her up cheap after the war, no papers, total hag. I didn’t want to touch her, Mergel I mean. Cut meeting short to have private lunch of mac-and-cheese with extra cheese. Tremendous.
6 April 2017:Dear Diary, Tonight I had the most wonderful piece of chocolate cake I ever saw (and believe you me, I’ve seen some cake). Was dining with President Xi and Madame Chiang who loved that cake, it was 6 inches high. Interrupted by an aide (I think) who wanted to bomb Iran or one of those places. I told him, “Whatever”. Rumors of sanitation problems in Mar-a-lago kitchen totally fake news.
7 April 2017:Dear Diary, Breakfast of corned beef hash with extra cheese, side of Swedish pancakes. Xi skipped breakfast, referred to “Truman’s Revenge” later. Maybe some sort of joke. Unscrutable.
10 April 2017: Dear Diary, Tomorrow I’m going to send an armada to Korea. “Armada” reminds me of that victorious Spanish Armada King Philip sent to conquer France, but mine is bigger. Also my armada is bigger. And “Spanish” reminds me of cuchifritos – goat meat with potatoes with catsup and extra fritos. I’ll have it for lunch, before my interview with that sweetie from Fox.
11 April 2017: Dear Diary, At the interview I said to that Foxy (get it, Diary?) reporter, Maria something, “You know I don’t think about the military.” She said, “Yes.” What did she mean by that?
Sunday, 23 April 2017
Dear Mr President,
I’ve been rereading your Passover/Easter greeting, and though it pains me to say it, it’s a pathetic lump of pseudo-pious pablum, spoon-fed to those supporters who are able to reconcile their knowledge of your pussy-grabbing, money-grubbing, and truth-avoiding behavior with a belief in your high religious principles. The text, which I admit you did not write, betrays incompetence with culture and language on a truly Spicerian scale. I think you need a new speech-writer. A few examples:
– “tremendous” . . . “incredible” . . . “amazing”. . . “truly”. These words all have meanings.
– “uplifted the world beyond measure . . . raised up the face of humankind”. The phrases of someone who took a course in preaching – by correspondence?
– “Another day of faith and celebration is also upon us.” Aren’t the “another” and the “also” doing the same job? And the “upon us” makes the “day of faith” sound like a plague.
– Though the text acknowledges that Passover is the time for retelling the story of “an incredible people”, honored for their suffering, a later passage makes it explicit that Easter is the real deal – “the sacred time that fills the spirit of our Nation with the faith of our people.”
– “America is a Nation of believers.” Yes, and non-believers. Just like Syria and Iran and Mexico.
– “We have a beautiful country, an abundant countryside, and an amazing people with a truly bright and amazing future.” The amazing people all seem to live out there in the abundant countryside – not in the war zones of our cities, which are populated, presumably, by drug-users engaged in American Carnage. I get it that the third of America who support you live largely in rural districts, but they don’t live in Currier and Ives paintings. Some live in the abundant countryside of McDowell County, Kentucky, where some pass the day in an opioid haze – which, by the way, would not be treatable under your healthcare plan. And many amazing people (like Jared and Ivanka) have never spent a day bringing in the sheaves.
– “Christians and Muslims and Jewish and Hindu”. Note the embarrassed shift from nouns to adjectives. It’s OK to say “Jews”. Jews say “Jews”.
– “With God’s grace, life always triumphs over death, freedom overcomes oppression, and faith overcomes fear.” Really? The Christians and Muslims under the bombs in Mosul and Aleppo weren’t afraid as they died?
– “. . . in the centuries since, a long time ago.” Syntactic nonsense.