Mouthgate
Creative Commons Licensed Image "Donald Trump - Caricature" by Donkey Hotey. Some rights reserved.
Hurricane Donald hit the cable news networks on Friday at 4 PM (Oct. 7, 2016) as a category five “breaking news” event, until downgraded to a tropical storm for the next four days and nights, inundating voters with possibly more than they ever wanted to know about the Republican Party nominee ad nauseam.
The 2005 “Access Hollywood” video was presented by all the so-called responsible news outlets as a non –partisan, educational, purely informational document, which might give insight into the character of the video’s star. It presented the GOP candidate’s theory about how to win the hearts of the opposite sex. In his own words, we learned how a then 59-year old fat rich man sweeps the damsels off their feet.
A poll taken in the great state of Utah by Y2 Analytics showed that 94% of Utahans had watched or heard about the video. One wonders where the other 6% were, probably in the Tabernacle.
As Donald, who views himself as the eighth wonder of the world, and possibly the ninth, explained, because he is such a charming, likeable, hot, celebrity star, it gives him the freedom to do anything he wanted with a woman. Anyone he finds attractive, he could kiss, and “grab their pussy.” Consent was not an issue.
What a guy, one Registered Republican, not living in Utah, thought to himself after seeing and hearing the video nine or ten times.
The resulting carnage caused by the video, which may go down in the annals as the start of the Mouthgate Crisis, hit the Republican Party below the belt, so to speak. It seemed to impact negatively on the dreams of the most unlikely election of a man with no political experience, with no record of previous public service or interest in learning anything about foreign or domestic affairs, other than his own, a deadbeat who apparently has not paid federal taxes since 1993, a man whose reputation for veracity was established a long time ago when he claimed to be of Swedish origin.
His technique of playing Romeo to unsuspecting Juliets reminded me of the rights said to have existed in medieval Europe, giving to the lord of the manor the opening night privilege of deflowering the bride of his vassals. To be fair, the Droit du Seigneur ritual may only have been wishful thinking. In the opinion of Encyclopedia Britannica it amounted, in effect, “only to another tax on his vassals.”
As I tried to keep head above water in this the most horrific week of the most bizarre campaign in the history of American democracy, with wave after wave of atrocities hitting the wall, there came another so-called October Surprise.
Traditional Republicans with stronger stomachs than mine were hitting the panic button –and missing.
Worried that this kind of X-rated material might tarnish the reputation of the party of family values –reports of other spontaneous Trump Moments with hot mikes were lined up like JFK on Friday nights at 5 ready to take off — they were abandoning the sinking ship.
The rump movement was led by such luminaries as Sen. John McCain who spent five years in the Hanoi Hilton—it should be noted, not a Trump hotel—and who was defamed by the candidate for being such a klutz as to being captured. For months McCain followed the 11th Commandment, as pronounced by Ronald Reagan, “Thou shalt not speak ill of another Republican.”
He now was one of 87 governors, senators, and representatives of the Republican persuasion joining him in the lifeboats, as they frantically paddled away from the Flying Dutchman, commanded by Herr Trump.
Totally ignored was the possibility their candidate might now be appealing to two new constituencies: those who have similarly groped without consent and those who only fantasize that form of sexual achievement.
The candidate said he was happy the traitors were dropping out. He was now “unshackled.” One wondered what shackles he was talking about. Free at last, he now could be his own man.
“Nicht mehr Herr Nice Guy” ß(No more Mister Nice Guy).
It didn’t matter to the defectors that Trump was about to issue an apology. It would be the first time in his adult life, explained Lawrence O’Donnell on MSNBC. ”Just once.”
He didn’t say he misspoke 11 years ago. He apologized briefly for “locker room banter,” before making the quick faulty reference jump to the president emeritus not running this year, or ever again.
The candidate fell into another mouth trap at the second debate on CNN (Oct. 12)
As Anderson Cooper, the Torquemada moderating the so-called town hall debate repeated the boast the 6% of Utahans hadn’t heard about, Trump said, nein. He respected women, really respected them. Just locker room banter.
One could say he was a master debater, judging by all the jocks that asked what locker room was he talking about?
Then came another October Surprise. Miss Teen Age America contestant from Arizona said it wasn’t just in his mind. He did those things. A parade of other victims of his romancing concurred.
They were all shameless lies, blatant lies, part of the crooked media conspiracy out to get him.
Well, I tell you it was enough to give thoughtful voters un kopfschmerzen (headache).
Do you believe what your eyes tell you or what is being said?
What do I as a Registered Republican make of all of this? I don’t like to rush to judgment, but at this point in time the man is a world-class putz, as we used to say in the hood. But he is our putz.
The Republican Party is the party of business. If you have a lemon, a respected principle states, you’re supposed to make lemonade.
The party should be reminding voters of the movie classic “Knute Rockne, All American," starring Ronald Reagan as George Gipp, aka The Gipper, too sick to play. Remember Coach Rockne’s locker room exhortation as his boys took the field: “Win one for the Gipper.”
Republican leaders today might come to the aid of the party by telling us to “Win one for the Groper.”
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Marvin Kitman
Oct. 14, 2016