By David Glenn Cox
Newsflash: Trump blames others for election defeat. Have you ever noticed the difference the sound makes in an empty room? The sound expanding in an empty space reverberating coldly off the walls as Mira Lago’s attendees asked themselves, “We paid how much for this?” It is like it is still 2020, and the former rodent of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. is locked in a time warp. An orange vinyl record stuck in a groove repeating itself over and over ad nauseum forever. Out of the loop and drifting towards the rocks of irrelevance. Newsflash 2024: Trump blames others for election defeat.
The bass is gone out and the sound is weak and thready. Almost pleading, “Remember when I was still President?” And like the child of an alcoholic his voice returning makes our flesh crawl. Returning us to a dark nightmare of four years of obscenity and bedlam. A memory which had been erased in a mere three months. The subject of his speech entitled, “People and Things that piss me off!” Grandpa yelling at the man on the Weather Channel again. Someone better hide the remote control before he gets too worked up about it and we have to give him his medicine. The clown prince of absentia, old faithful preparing for his three o’clock eruption. Napoleon on Elba mourns his exile and looks out to sea for his rescue as his rescuers begin thinking, maybe Elba is a good place for him.
Time marches on, Trump does not. Trump got the Republican Party hooked on his TV brand of sensationalism and now suffers from withdrawal symptoms. Standing around like mourners at a funeral trying to think something nice to say about someone everyone knows was an insufferable bastard. The rhetoric that got Trump elected that won’t get anyone else elected. “Ladies and gentlemen the problems that face our country are severe and that’s why I want to go to Washington and make things right. I know you’re suffering through a pandemic and maybe you lost your job and are afraid you are about to lose your home. But Donald Trump was hosed in the 2020 election!”
I was reading about North Korea and office 39 when a light came on, and I said to myself. No wonder Trump fell in love with this guy. Kim Jong-un is the Korean Donald Trump. Change the hair for ethnic reasons and yeah, that’s him man. Saddled with sanctions the North Korean economy is on its ass twenty-four seven. Through office 39 Kim bids construction projects around the world worth millions of dollars. He then stiffs the workers and puts the money into his own pocket, sons of different mothers I tell you. Payday is whenever they say it’s payday. And your pay is whatever they say your pay is. Got a problem with that? Good news! They were going to shoot you, but I talked them into sending you to a hard labor camp.
Kim’s regime is about protecting and enriching the elite and glorifying the name of Kim. Any way shape form or fashion that brings in money for Kim must be exploited. Law is just a book on a shelf next to lemurs. The state is just a vehicle for personal enrichment. Howdy Ya’ll, welcome to plantation North Korea! I can see it clear; Donald Trump loves Kim like Timmy loves Lassie. The tenderfoot looking up to the Eagle Scout. “Tell me again about the workers in Tanzania Kim!” Trump bilks his supporters then threatens to have them reported as backsliders and deserters for not continuing in their payments. Shitty as that sounds, it beats building a damn in Africa with picks and shovels for three years.
Facebookless, Twitterless and Dickless, Dick having the day off. Trump has an imitation White House Press Conference with invited guests only. All hail our great leader! Shh! Quiet everyone, I think he’s going to talk about himself again!
Trump has malignified the Republican Party into his own image. And now, that image is of a man being left behind as the marching band music fades turning the corner down the street. The Revolutionary People’s Party of North Mira Lago is open for business and office 39 is office one! Selling indulgences for the price of a public ass kissing. The holy orange pope of dope willing to endorse candidates, sporting goods or chicken noodle soup. “Hi, I’m Donald Trump; I want to talk to you today about reverse mortgages.”
Our great revolutionary leader, revered by next to no one. Tell us oh, great one about Mitch McConnell again. Tell us oh, dear one, about what Brian Kemp did to you in Georgia. Two minutes of hate for Brian Kemp! “Boo, hiss!”
The Trump brand melts like a candle in the sun as the taint has becomes unavoidable. That’s why we hear Ted Cruz and Matt Gaetz and Jim Jordan. The rest are stunned into silence. The Party was the great leader, and now the great leader is gone. The center pole is missing from the tent and there ain’t no fixing it. A future built on the grievance of the past. Imaginary wrongs and indignities done to our great leader back in the day. Two minutes of hate for Mitch McConnell and that son of a bitch on the Weather Channel who ruined our great leader’s Golf outing.
“Hi-Yo, Silver! A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty ‘Hi-Yo Silver’… The Orange Ranger! With his faithful Immigrant companion, Malaria, the daring and resourceful orange rider of the plains led the fight against law and order, profiteering his way across the United States. Nowhere in the pages of history can one find a greater criminal from justice. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. From out of the past come the thundering hoof-beats of the great horse Faux News. The Orange Ranger rides again!”