Can You Smell the Flop Sweat?

Donald Trump - Caricature

I’ve been keeping a logbook, based on Daniel Defoe’s “A Journal of the Plague Year,” a memento of this most strange and bizarre presidential campaign in our 240-year history. Objective and unbiased as only a crack reporter like myself can be, it is history as seen through the eyes of a Registered Republican. The journal also suffers missing days. Look, even Pliny the Elder didn’t account for every day at the end of the Roman Empire. There is a limit to how much a man can take.

ONLY 84 DAYS LEFT TILL…

Our candidate has a problem.

It’s his mouth.

He has a big mouth.
Believe me, a very big mouth.
Big enough to put a pair of Made- in- China shoes in it.

Yes, it’s true
He has an Achilles Mouth.
And it’s getting him in trouble.
Believe me, absolutely a lot of trouble.

Forgive me. I seem to have fallen under the influence of our candidate’s habit of speaking in triplicate. As evidence to prove his point, no matter how patently untrue, he repeats the opening statement, true or false, three times.

Every time he opens his big mouth these days, the party faithful are right to be cowering in their seats or behind the couch. They never know what total insanity he will be launching as gospel. Neither does he, seemingly.

His outrageous unscripted pronuncimentos come from the center of his hair, go directly to his mouth without passing through his brain. Others come right from his gut.

His big troubles began last week when he seemed to be inciting violence against his unworthy opponent.

Not everybody. Only second amendmenteers should be examining their options if The Hated One wins and exercises the power to uphold the Constitution by appointing a Supreme Court justice to a vacant seat!

And then he stunned the civilized world by claiming our sitting president was the founding father of a terrorist organization.

Obama founded ISIS, as he put it.
That’s true.
He founded ISIS.
Believe me, he absolutely founded ISIS.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if constitutional scholars in his ranks began firing off their AK-47s and AR-15s in the air in validation while shouting Allahu Trump Akbar.

The more moderates might just chant the old American folk saying, “Lock him up…Lock him up.”

Then he accused She Who Must be Hated of rigging the election, even before it takes place, what is known in political oratory as a premature ejaculation.

The elections are rigged, as he put it
Absolutely rigged.
Believe me.
Horrible.

As evidence of dirty work, he pointed to the Pennsylvania polls, which show him losing ground to The Crooked Devil Lady.

How does he know they are absolutely rigged?

Well, these are the same polls that he once hailed as absolutely so accurate we didn’t even need to hold a costly election— before they turned south.

He further enhanced his arguments about the rigged Pennsylvania election by suggesting that after doing their civic duty by voting his followers, many of whom might be dedicated second amendment folks, should visit other polling sites and see if they are “on the up and up.”

Should they be carrying their fully loaded AK- 47 assault weapons and grenade launchers, none of which are specifically banned by the second amendment’s right to bear arms, while seeing if there are any irregularities in the computers?

He wasn’t specific in his directions for what vigilante poll watchers should do if computer glitches are discovered, any more than his theories about how Obama managed to become president, whatever his birth certificate read.

And then he threw a curve ball that will live in the annals of serious campaign rhetoric. After doubling and tripling down on the assassination threat, the president being a closet Radical Islamic Terrorist, and the elections being programmed in advance to ensure his defeat, he did the switcheroo.

What’s the matter with us? Didn’t we know he was joking (being sarcastic, satiric, or otherwise making fun)? Are we humor- impaired?

It’s our fault. Don’t we get his sense of humor? Aliens on other planets interpreting the hand signals are rolling in the aisles.

As they say in the garment center, there seems to be a pattern here.

After he finishes getting all the juice out of what sensible people might see as totally off the wall –and I don’t mean the Mexican-American Wall— aided and abetted by his favorite source of accurate news (cable TV networks) repeating the gag ad nauseum, he pulls an Emily Littela on us: “Never mind.”

Holy “Saturday Night Live”!

As a public service, the news shows that swear by Trump as a profit center, and not at him, can help clear up the confusion by adopting an advanced communications tool used elsewhere in TV programming.

I’m talking about the laugh track, which performed so nobly in the field of so-called sitcoms, laughing their heads off at material only the laugh track could laugh at.

The way this would work: Every time our candidate is shown making a statement of questionable sanity, a burst of laughter would fill the air. Absolutely youuuge.

I had an even greater epiphany this week. It was as if a light blub went on over my head. Maybe the whole Trump campaign is a joke!

What we had been experiencing in the primaries was a dress rehearsal. But this is show time, Donald. It’s the Big Show!

And, believe me, you are not ready for prime time.


 

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Marvin Kitman
August 15, 2016

Marvin Kitman is the author of “The Making of the Preƒident 1789”, HarperCollins, and in paperback, Grove Press, available at Amazon and quality book-sellers. His other books include “George Washington’s Expense Account” by Gen. George Washington and Marvin Kitman, PFC (Ret.). Google them.