By David Glenn Cox
We are in hybrid times somewhere between 1984 and “Triumph of the Will.” A bad acid trip through the looking glass so terrible you begin to understand the reason for carpet bombing Germany. But ours is unique, a spaghetti western Fascist utopia where things don’t fit quite right. The edges are jagged, and the sounds don’t match the movement of their lips. A world turned inside out where a patriot is an armed vigilante protesting his government motivated by opposition political parties.
Do you know who has armed vigilantes in the street? Not functioning democracies.
But this is the gang that can’t shoot straight. If incompetence were a disability, they’d all have parking placards. In an effort to promote the orange one’s plan to reopen the economy Ringling Brothers and Faux News presents…You’re not sick, get back to work! Not since the Navy let The Village People perform on a battleship, has there been such a tin ear performance. In an effort to make the Cheeto look large and authoritative in front of the Lincoln Memorial they did the opposite making him look puny. A tiny temporal flesh and blood blister sitting opposite a stone giant. Never has stone said more and never has temporal flesh and blood said less.
Lincoln sat Sphinx silent as if refusing to acknowledge the Cheeto’s presence with a contempt emphasized in its giantism. The Cheeto begins his usual spiel (cue violins) about how poorly he has been treated. Sixty plus thousands of Americans are dead with thousands more to follow, things are rough all over fella. Three hundred plus millions face an uncertain future but do tell, I am so interested in your problems. Tell me about how you’ve been treated worse than a man shot in the head at close range with a half-inch musket ball. A man fighting a Civil War and who lost a child in the White House and had to deal with a wife haunted by mental illness brought on by her situation.
Inside the Faux Cocoon they control the questions and host, Tell the Fuhrer all about it. “I’m unemployed and about to be evicted and I can’t pay my bills!” Just you wait and see, the economy is going to come roaring back and you’re going to get a better job making more money! Two Lear jets in every garage and chicken on golden china plates. Fantasy tell them whatever. If they still believe by now, they deserve what they get.
“Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle.”- Lewis Carroll
Again, the Cheeto’s views are diametrically opposed to the experts. The small oil companies have already begun to file for bankruptcy. In London they estimate that twenty percent of pubs will never reopen. A fair estimate, servers working for tips face a fifty or twenty-five percent occupancy requirement. I’ve worked in restaurants that means somebodies going home. The rise of internet conferencing means that that lucrative business class won’t be returning to the airport anytime soon. Warren Buffett made public his plans to dump his airline stocks and all the lemmings will follow. No plane ticket no rental car. No rental car no rental car purchase. No plane ticket no hotel room. No hotel room no meal at a restaurant and no drinks at the bar.
What the Cheeto presented was “Triumph of the Will,” a propaganda news feature. Stalin tied himself to Mother Russia because he knew no one would fight for Stalin. Same thing the Cheeto wants to connect himself to Lincoln. The iconic image his followers can relate to. If he tried to use Teddy Roosevelt, his followers would be historically lost. A Great White Fleet sounds nice, but wasn’t he a Liberal? More of a Triumph of the Coloring Book follow the bouncing ball and sing along. Deflection, deflection, that’s the name of the game!
Six months to the election the Cheeto sets his goal posts and reveals his golden sword. China! This is all China’s fault! Sure, I ignored all the warnings and scoffed at the experts, but there is only one thing for you to remember. This is China’s fault! And we’re going to do this and we’re going to do that and rabble, rabble, China, rabble, rabble China!
The Chinese play the Cheeto Administration like a virtuoso on a Stradivarius. They play the same game, so they understand it. Give them a headline for the six o’clock news and then drag your feet. Trumpo the wonder ape plays a dangerous game with dangerous people for superficial reasons all to convince you…It’s China’s fault.
The Cheeto chatter dropped stocks in Asia as the Australian Ambassador called relations with China at a forty-six-year low. Trade wars are easy to win if you don’t care who gets hurt. Already Trumpy accuses Joe Biden of being soft on China. The Asian Willie Horton the hybrid mix of racism and xenophobia cloaked in suspicion and mistrust. Selling soap to the suckers in the hustings.
Swamping the boat of the world economy to save his own swamp of a Presidency. Gas lighting the world to save himself. The duality of a Big Brother persona with a tiny frustrated little man texting on a lazy boy. Unable to ignore any slight, panic stricken and haunted by demons waiting a lifetime to escape. Our futures hanging in the mist of a mad man’s mind. Our fortunes dependent on how he feels today. At war with the world and any who question him. The incredible shrinking orange Fuhrer struts across the orchestrated stage and proves to the world everything he was trying to hide.