My Annual Ides of March Warning
Trump is the opiate of the people!
The epiphany came to me while sunning myself on the beach on Hiatus, the island in the Lesser Antilles where pundits go to cop some rays, recharging the lithium batteries needed to call them as they see them. In the hot sun, the vegetable oil my brain has turned to trying to make sense of the totally insane 2016 Republican presidential campaign, starts to bubble and boil.
True, some people say religion is the opiate of the masses. Still others argue opium is the opiate.
Whatever, I vote for Trump as the greatest deluder of our times.
Not all the people, in fairness, I should say, are deluded, only those who had decided he was The Man to lead the nation with the world on the brink of World War III, even before the 19 debates clarified the issues, or lack thereof, a group Ted Cruz, who should know, called those of “lower intelligence.”
As information-challenged voters go to the polls on Super Tuesday tonight, the champion of the angry white men with less than a college degree may be anointed as the best and brightest of the 17 candidates who began the race for the roses last June.
Not since William Z. Foster, the Communist Party candidate in the 1932 election –he lost-- has there been such a chance to change democracy, as we know it. If that’s what is needed in these perilous times.
I must admit there have been many puzzling aspects of the race, even for me as a pundit.
I still haven’t recovered from my prediction that Evangelical conservative voters in Iowa could not seriously vote for a thrice-married, sinner with New York values. Or that those Christian soldiers failed to stop the Devil’s Disciple in South Carolina or did not smell the brimstone and fire in Alabama and elsewhere in the Bible Belt. As the campaign song written by a friend of mine goes, “Trump, trump, trump, trump, the goys are marching.”
There are those who say the presumptive Pres. Trump-elect reminds them of a Hitler, a Mussolini. I see him more of a Lenin, the Bolshevik who overthrew the provisional democratic government of the Mensheviks, post-Russian Revolution of 1917.
Trump’s campaign slogan “Vote for Me Because I am Rich” lives in the annals of most inspiring campaign rallying cries since the Marxist-Leninist promise, “Each according to his greed, each according to his ability to convince the banks to keep lending money to a thrice-bankrupted with nine failing businesses to his credit.
I will admit I’m a little hazy on Komrad Trump’s programs once he is elected. Traditionally, the first 100 days deal with solutions to the complex problems that won voters to his side.
Trumpist dialectics are not very clear.
His genius is being deliberately vague, thus not alienating any of the party faithful. For example, he has duped the folks by promising to build a wall to keep out Mexican rapists and drug lords at no expense to taxpayers. It was a thrilling first sentence. The details are in the second sentence, still to come as a kind of Christmas package for immigration hard-liners. Will he be selling the naming rights or ads on the wall to defray the costs?
Unlike the other 16 dopes in the race, DJT didn’t deliver borrrrrrring position papers on the issues. What voters wanted in 2016, he knew, was nothing substantive. Existentialism, transcendentalism, states of nothingness! Vote for nothing—that’s hip.
His enemies were not smart enough to ask, “Where’s the beef?” the three little words which Walter Mondale used to down Gary Hart in the 1984 primaries.
All of Trump’s secret plans for making America Great Again are safely locked away in the holiest of holies, the inner sanctum underneath the Taj Mahal of hairdos. Not even a search warrant from the High Court would get even an inkling of how DJT will be getting good jobs for the jobless, an issue that resonates with his supporters out of work or underpaid. His New Economic Plan, for all we know, might well be the solution I used to get my unemployed son at 15 during summer break off his duff: “Get a job, willya?”
As I say, he is smart to keep it under his hat, whatever “it” is.
We have learned from Marxist-Leninist experience that radical plans are dangerous. You may remember all those New Economic Plans, the five-year programs that were guaranteed to turn things around for the disadvantaged peasants. And after five years, with the peasants still starving, the Kremlin Politburo would proudly unveil a new Five Year Plan. Every five years a new NEP would be acclaimed as the best thing to happen since the invention of food.
Nobody will be able to accuse Komrad Donald of not fulfilling his campaign promises since he hasn’t made any more specific than making America Great Again. As I say, the man is brilliant.
Hey, dude, are you calling Our Donald a communist?
And why not? He’s already been called a fascist, a vulgarian, a vegetarian, not to mention a racist, an xenophobic bigot, a Berlusconi, a thug. Why not add to his laurels as a socialistic communist, the worse kind.
WTF, given his friendship with Putin, he might already be card-carrying, or even a fellow traveler, celebrating Earl Browder’s Birthday (May 20).
I better stop all this punditing, go back to lying in the sun and thinking through Trumpist dialectics.
Meanwhile, a Happy Ides of March Day to you and yours!
March 15, 2016