The Trump Memorial

Falling through the universe at the speed of life

By David Glenn Cox

In a time of global pandemic economic emergency and attempted Fascist takeover of our government. The American people are unified and in the streets over the extrajudicial murder of George Floyd. Black, White, Brown, Red or Yellow in the streets declaring, “no more.” President Cheeto is lost and confused by these events, “I’ll send in the Army! I’ll dominate the streets!” The more he talks the larger the crowds become and the larger the crowds become the more frightened he appears. He took his stroll to Saint John’s Church to show us his terminator like skills and still doesn’t understand why the stunt didn’t work.

Then he created the Trump Memorial, one point seven miles of fencing to prevent his eyes from seeing the truth laid bare before him. “I’ll make it all go away with fences and cops! I’ll dominate Lafayette Park!” Living in an ersatz America at the intersection of White Privilege Avenue and Beatdown Boulevard. “It’s not fair!” He cries. “The Russia investigation and impeachment with his favorite “Witch hunt” sound bite for good measure. Hitler blamed the German people for their loss of World War II it’s what narcissists do. It’s what dictators and demigods do. The Soviet Union once had the crime of wrecking on the books. Whenever the five-year plan failed it had to be someone’s fault. Find the wreckers, those criminals who made the potato crop fail or didn’t order enough bolts for the tractor factory.

Supposedly there was a shouting match as Bunker Boy demanded ten thousand active duty troops to dominate the streets of Washington D.C. and the Pentagon answered, not by the hair of my chinny chin chin. The Cheeto’s firing gun is out of bullets anyone fired now won’t be replaced. No one wants the job or the taint that will stick to Cheetoists until the end of their days. The HR managers of the future placing resume’s in the definitely not pile. The list of vocal critics grows as the Cheeto tweets himself to exhaustion fighting back.  His enemies list grows and grows to include at the bottom the American people.

I am the President of law and order! I am the President of bible thumping! I am the President of chest beating and hyperbole. I am the President of violence and murder. I am the President of one point seven miles of fencing. The President of Cops and night sticks, beat downs, tear gas and flash bang grenades. The President of no knock warrants and the war on drugs. The President of real fine people with a message for you thugs out there. “But, but, but it worked for Richard Nixon and George Wallace and Ronald Reagan.” Demonizing Black America and the poor, the welfare queens driving their new Cadillac’s while I have to schlub off to my underpaid job every day.”

They’re out to get me Russia and the witch hunt. They are out to get me at the impeachment hearings. The Corona virus is a hoax to make the orange one look bad. Voting by mail is a plot to steal the election from the Cheeto. Delusion and paranoia on full display as the Trump Administration drifts towards the falls of November. An Attorney General who explains tear gas isn’t tear gas and a Press Secretary who explains violence isn’t really violence. You know George is looking down from heaven at these great economic numbers. He would thank me if he were here.

But this is fortress Trump, a mad man shouting orders at troops which don’t exist. Isolated insulated in an imaginary world of make believe. You know, when Pat Robertson scolds you for being an asshole you kind of have to pay attention. The tide has turned, and the Fuhrer bunker has become a lonely place. He still has his base the thirty percent that would buy him the bullets for his gun to shoot someone on Fifth Ave., but you can’t win an election at thirty percent. The Cheeto Wall like the Berlin Wall before it has become a symbol of the protest. Tagged with signs and art the Cheeto is painted into a corner and out of step with the times. His answer crank up the Trump circus. It is the only thing he’s really good at ginning up the loyalists. They only ones still willing to listen to his spiel. He has made the Republican Convention homeless and now intends to kill as many of his supporters as possible before November because it makes him feel good.

He hears the crowds cheering from empty halls the cheering and the throngs. He wants to go back to the good old days of race baiting and insult.  A broken Cheeto growing stale in the bag and long in the tooth. “He feels like one who treads alone some banquet-hall deserted, whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead, and all but he departed. He that will not when he may, when he will he shall have nay.” – Winston Churchill

The Trump era is over, his poll numbers among moderates and independents are in the tank even among evangelicals his numbers are eroding. Like a spell that is broken America awakes to take back its streets and its White House. The little orange fat man grows angrier and angrier the Democrats had police murder that guy just to make me look bad. This is all Obama’s fault; they never took to the streets when he was President. He had it easy…he was black.

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