Trump Speaks His Mind, Such as It Is
I don’t know how to tell you this, Don, but you talk too much.
After your stinging shlonging in Wisconsin, you went to Long Island and before an adoring crowd of megathousands of Trumpniks, some of whom were chanting “socialism sucks,” you announced a shift in your policy speeches, providing “more meat on the bone.”
You still don’t get it.
What is killing you these days is the meat you already have begun serving up in this latest phase of the Trump march on Washington, what could be the most devastating since the British burned the White House in the War of 1812.
Trump voters are the folks who like Lite beers. It’s enough of a mind-bending challenge deciding which of the Lite beers—Miller Lite, Bud Lite, Coors colder than cold Lite-- a subject of intellectual ferment on commercial TV for years, have the least taste to fit the American palate. No taste is the ultimate brewing goal.
What they like about Trump’s policies is there is nothing to chew over. There is no beef. That’s a positive.
You were doing fine, Don, just giving the first sentence of a policy, delivering a declarative proposal like, “I will make the trains run on time.”
Then you would add the details:
“ I love trains. Trains are some of my best friends. The trains love me and they will run on time. Because they know I am a great deal-maker.”
You never gave the second paragraph where politicians usually give the details. Or, in your case, even a second sentence.
Lately, however, you have become a regular Chatty Cathy, talking to the press about your policies.
What were you thinking when you gave that 100- minute phone interview to that liberal rag, the New York Times?
You know they hate you, will do anything to skew you.
You know that as responsible journalists, they will record the conversation, fact check your absurd comments.
You know you don’t know anything about nuclear policy, one of those fake issues right up there with global warming or climate change, that warm socialist hearts.
And there you were in the Sunday papers advocating South Korea and Japan should be building nuclear bombs as a deterrent.
Remember, you didn’t even know what a nuclear triad was, back in the old days when debates were about issues, rather than a popularity contest with you in the lead to be Most Convivial over Lyin’ Ted.
The same thing happened when you had your tête-à-tête with Chris Matthews on MSNBC.
Before you started giving the details of your policies you sounded like a half-crazed idiot. Now you’re coming across as a total idiot.
Now it’s true, Don, you have a lot of other flaws. But they are the same ones when you first threw your hair into the race back in June. You are what you are, as Descartes or some other foreigner you would deport said
But this change in electoral strategy means that you are now your own worse enemy, which is HUGE.
None of this might come back to bite you in the ass, as we used to say in Long Island. That’s because 2016 is a campaign for the history books.
Usually election campaigns go on for four years, and are decided the last week or day by the Undecideds. Undecideds determine the winner. After listening to all the debates, attack commercials, and speeches at rallies, the Hamlets walking the ramparts make their decision based on the color of tie the candidate was wearing at the last rally or the candidate’s eyes are too closely set together.
In this campaign, Don, you have a solid 39% who made up their minds they liked you even before the first debate.
Those who like meat on the bones have already fled to that meaty candidate Cruz, even though he is serving baloney while you are offering unadulterated ham.
Why am I being so helpful, Don?
Well, as everybody’s favorite Republican, I knew from the beginning my Republican Party has abandoned the old Ciceronian ideal, govern by the best. The cast of 17 in this clown show who began the race was the worse team of candidates in the history of American politics.
I’m no expert in math, Don, but I know that 39 %, or even 41%, no matter how solid, is not enough to win an election. Checking my abacus here, at last count you need 50.1%
The only hope for the future of the grand old party after this demolition derby of 2016 is for Donald to win the nomination, despite his 39%. And we go on in November to suffer the most ruinous debacle since Alf Landon in 1936.
Out of the ashes of the party self -immolation with Don’s solid 39% will arise hopefully not another Phoenix, but maybe a Tucson.
April 7, 2016