Our Innocent Abroad
I have a modest proposal regarding the president’s coming historic grandiose maiden visit abroad:
Lift his passport. Add his name to the no-fly list. His travel plans be cancelled henceforth to any foreign capital expecting him by the year 2020.
And to be further on the safe side, as part of the code blue damage control protocol, I would ground and terminate use of Air Force One for the duration of the current emergency.
(I always thought it was cost-ineffective to gas up and fly that monster from Washington or Manhattan to New Jersey, to play a few rounds of golf at his Bedminster country club. Cheaper to go by bus. Or call Uber.)
I may be over-reacting to the news that our president has been sharing secrets again with his friends, the Russians. Whatever he may or may not have told the foreign minister and the ambassador about our game plan in the Middle East over the samovar in the Oval Office last week is totally insane.
(Lock him up)
The Rooskies must have gone back to their embassy and cracked open a few quart bottles of vodka celebrating. They can’t believe what good fortune it’s been having such a seemingly dumb cluck as their adversary.
Our guy has either forgotten, or never knew, that for the last half century the communists are dedicated to making capitalists like him whither way and fall to the wayside.
He’s a leading threat to national security today, an unguided missile, a weapon of mass distraction, a man who can make headlines by giving three versions of the truth, as in the case of the firing of the FBI director over what the president calls “the Russian thing,” in his words, a “hoax,” like global warming, perpetrated by the dishonest crooked media that is out to get him because his administration is such a rip-roaring success.
(Lock them up, too)
The latest example of playing footsie with the Bolsheviks is driving our allies nuts. They don’t understand we are conducting a scientific experiment in democracy.
What would happen, the hypothesis asks, if we elected a man who is totally inexperienced and unqualified to be president, a man who doesn’t know you’re not supposed to ask the FBI to drop an investigation of his security adviser (Gen. Flim Flam Flynn) who may be on the Russian and Turkish payroll; a man who may be taping White House dinner conversations in homage to Pres. Nixon; a man who is ignorant about our history–in his opinion Andrew Jackson could have avoided the Civil War, even though he had been dead 16 years, a man who has the attention span of a gnat.
In all due respect, the guinea pig in the novice-for-president experiment doesn’t know anything about the business of governing.
It’s not like getting on Page Six in the New York Post. He knew how to get ink by pretending to be a press agent, disguising his voice with a handkerchief and phoning in scoops about what billionaire real estate mogul with the initials “Donald Trump” was caught dining out with what hot movie star at what new Trump hotel boite?
It’s not like the real estate business where you can swear on a stack of prospectus that a new development is the greatest thing since sliced bread.
All he wants is headlines. And he knows how to get them, every time he sits down at his Twitter machine and shares whatever passes through his hair, or mind.
True, we’ve had other presidents who were not the sharpest knife in the drawer, who made stupid decisions, some of them really costly. But we’ve never had one whose idea of bringing the Evil Empire to its knees is by telling them what we have up our sleeves in the way of highly classified sensitive intelligence.
Without meaning to be disrespectful, sir, it’s a crazy way to run a geopolitical struggle. It’s like playing poker and showing your “hold” card.
Our friends abroad may have a clue about what they are getting in our experimental president. The last stop on Trump’s Victory Tour, as you can bet it will be packaged on his return, is a NATO meeting. Trump’s aides, according to CNN, have asked that the European leaders keep their remarks brief because of Trump’s short attention span.
Frankly, I’m worried about what WMD the president will launch next in his Grand Tour. And I’m afraid to ask.
All I know is that a man who thinks it’s okay to fax details of the D-Day landings in advance shouldn’t be in the Oval Office. He belongs on a farm, a funny farm.
NEXT … CAN THE REPUBLIC BE SAVED?
May 17, 2017