Saving Private Cheeto

Falling through the universe at the speed of life

By David Glenn Cox

The theme of today’s White House Press briefing is “Changing the subject.” Angry like a man with Jalapeno in his hemorrhoid cream. The Orange one makes a point of saying Chinese virus, yet again. Clearly, he’s painting this as a Chinese failure. If it’s China’s fault, it can’t be Donald Trump’s fault. They did this to us! And just when I had things perfect too. The victim Donald Trump. Rambling like Grandpa telling you about the good ole days, and how he’d once owned an Oldsmobile that came from Cincinnati. Fantasy plans and miracle cures and we’d like to thank our corporate sponsors. He looked tired and looked as if he had a double coat of the old orange Earl Scheib. Can paint look tired?

I am in the house under lock down. On Tuesday morning I woke up congested on one side and felt poorly. I stayed home just in case. I never had a fever. On Wednesday, I made sales calls I felt certain I didn’t have the virus. My symptoms were mild I had a sore throat, but it went away. Wednesday night I saw a CNN story about the best and the worst case. One woman was hospitalized and went through hell as the worst case. The other case was a preacher and his symptoms sounded a lot like mine. Thursday morning, I felt moderately worse so I’m in the house.

You know the orange one is pulling out all the stops, in this crisis confronting his administration. How can he convince the American people he’s not incompetent in the face of clear incompetence? How can he convince us that this couldn’t have been alleviated? You know, the old razzle dazzle. The economy is going to be fantastic, a chicken in every pot and a new car in every garage. Trump is worried about Trump. Trump’s committee is worried about Trump. The bowing and scrapping is embarrassing, Thank you, oh lord of life. Thank you for allowing the sun to shine upon us unworthy mortals.

But Trump doesn’t talk about us, he talks about statistics and cases that no one could see coming and his Herculean efforts to save us from a pandemic that no one in the whole world saw coming. Detached from reality he mutters about wonder drugs and research, but the crisis is today. People, you know, those warm lumpy things with a heartbeat are getting sick every day.  The numbers of corona virus victims reported are those hospitalized or who have gone to the doctor. I’m not that sick and I hope not to be that sick, but what do I know? I haven’t gone to the doctor and I wonder how many others are sick with mild to moderate symptoms?

I wonder about a President losing it as the cheese slides off the cracker. The little bird ain’t coming out of the Cuckoo clock no more. Slurred words slurred ideas; I am Napoleon Bonaparte! I am Emperor of all of France! Marshal Ney prepare to advance to Toulon! He walked into the press conference and made a crack about the reduced number of the press. Stay classy in a time of crisis.  Everybody loves a good pandemic joke. It is in line with his response to the crisis. I don’t care about you people how can we save…Donald Trump?

Seeing every issue through the lens of how does this make the President look. Everyday releasing increasing numbers of supplies and test equipment delivered and every day the people on the front lines saying it ain’t so. Gee, I wonder who I should believe? Who’s minding the store when it ain’t fun anymore, you got those Watergate blues. When the whole administration seems focused on pleasing the President, allowing him his flights of fantasy at least six months off. Hoping for miracles when it all turns to shit.

The President says he might intervene in the oil war between Russia and Saudi Arabia. He should have done that last week. You see the conundrum, don’t you? He would have to call Mr. Putin and Mr. Bone Saw and say confrontational things. Hard words and hurt feelings and no uncertain terms and he just can’t do that. That Trumpian façade, the tough guy who can’t face down the tough guy because he’s just a bully and a coward acting like a tough guy.

The oil market is devastated, the lives and livelihoods of millions of Americans are at stake. The big Orange President, the leader of the free world stands impotent. Truman stared down Stalin and Kennedy stared down Khrushchev and Trump is afraid making Mr. Putin angry. Gee, I bet it would be nice to have some friends right about now. Several European nations acting in unison. But who would the Cheeto Administration call? That rugged individualism of John Wayne turned to Don Knotts. Oh, how he misses beating his chest, the roar of the greasepaint and the smell of the crowd.

And so, we wait on the important things, can Private Cheeto be saved?

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