The Only Ballgame Left in Town

By David Glenn Cox

Well, he’s done it now. In fact, he’s done, done it now. And I was completely WRONG! I had said he was bluffing, faking us all out. To milk some more money from out of the sucker cows. It made me feel bad about myself being so wrong and all and sort of reflective. How could I be so wrong? I really thought I had a handle on it. He’d never really pull the trigger I said. It would be foolish when he could never win.

Then I sat quietly and paused and then had a quiet moment with myself. And I began to realize the error in my thinking. It then became obvious to me where I went wrong. I’m sane. (relatively) I look at Trump all wrong, through the beer goggles of a safe and relative sanity.

There is no drug known to mankind stronger than public adulation. The smell of the crowd and the roar of the grease paint. Throw in the wrong kind of personality, and it’s got doomsday written all over it. The kind of story that ends in a bunker with thudding incoming artillery rounds. Or a black and white episode of the Twilight Zone with Rod Serling calling your name.

But being sane and not addicted to public adulation.(involuntarily)  I am hampered by seeing only the logical repercussions involved in a “Thelma & Lousie” run for the White House. Leaving me, unable to see the delusional possibilities available to the criminally gifted. But for a megalomaniac this is heroin. There is no “I’ll do it tomorrow,” he needs the fix.

I read his speech; I just can’t stand to listen to him speak. I find his disjointed and unstructured pitch pattern annoying. But if you haven’t read it or seen the video. Here’s the Cliff Notes version. He makes the sunshine and hangs the moon at night. When he left office, America immediately fell into disrepair. Puppies and kittens weren’t cute anymore and love was never as sweet. Life was barely worth living without him.

We were living in Eden! Our happy children smiled upon us, and our enemies groveled, cowering in fear at our majesty. If there is even a scintilla of doubt in your mind about the sanity of one Donald John Trump…by all means, read the speech! We are maybe three moves away from “Sun King” status here. He maketh the light to shine down upon us. A sort of Kanye on steroids. ERRRRRRR! Crash!

Just by reading the speech you can tell who played a major role in crafting its emphasis. It’s not an “I have dream” speech of vision. It’s more of an “I am the dream” speech or “I’m in a dream” speech. Trump or Trump sycophants wrote this speech, they must at least believe a part of it. A nebulous dream world of make-believe made up facts and history. The dark Anti-matter bad acid trip Magical Mystery Tour. The little people really dig me!

If I didn’t run, they’d all be so disappointed. I owe it to them to try and brighten up their days and lighten their loads by bringing more me into their otherwise dull and humdrum existence. Something they could tell their grand kids about someday, like my uncle telling me about seeing Houdini. About the time they all got to see me!

It is a matter of this or die for Trump. It’s this or nothing. This or sit on the porch and wait for the grim reaper to arrive. He’s hooked and hooked real bad. There are no TV offers which could possibly compare ever with running for Presidency. There are no TV offers period, that ship has sailed. No Presidential memoirs to write or Presidential library plans to oversee or approve. Nope, this is the only ball game left in town.

So, you can begin to understand what he’s talking about. “How dare Ron DeSantis stand in his light.” The head lion hasn’t finished eating yet. And you may have my leavings, but don’t you ever approach me while I’m still eating. It’s MY world you know, until you take it away from me. You gotta beat the champ before you can act like the top dog around here…ya punk ass runt.

What else could a megalomaniac do, but run? He’d be like a dog on a leash when the mailman went by if he didn’t run. An empty spotlight on a lighted stage calling out his name. Tommy Chong, just one solid core door away from the police evidence drug locker. He’s just gotta try even it’s futile. Dogs chase cars even though they rarely catch any, it’s in their nature.

He’s doing well among possible maybe future potential attendees of the Iowa Caucuses. He’s nearly got the potential maybe vote nearly locked down! A solid 50% say maybe to Trump and that’s all that he needs to hear. Get off my stage little boy, before I have you thrown off! Don’t you know who I am?

The plan is simple; to bully and bluster and try to intimidate candidates and contributors alike. Off the stage before they ever have a chance to pick up any speed or run away somewheres else.

Just a couple of days after the electorate has totally repudiated Trump and Trumpism nationwide. Trump announces another presidential run ignoring that “sign’s point to no.”

Steve Bannon’s going to jail, and Roger Stone says, “fuck you!” For not giving him another pardon. (Sorry, only one pardon per customer, no substitutions allowed. Offer not good with any other crimes Offer not valid in Tennessee.) The new campaign people aren’t of the same caliber as some of the old campaign people. This will be the fourth or fifth echelon, “I graduate next Semester!”

People chosen not for their ability but for their availability alone and their willingness to accept the challenges of working with the “Boss.”

In a deep dark Florida swamp, lived an old man with a head full of yellow hair. And he thought that he was the greatest businessman whatever was. And then he got a television show and he thought he was the greatest television star ever was. Then through a fluke, he won an election despite losing the popular vote. And when he was sworn into office, it was the biggest crowd ever seen by anybody there ever was …in his mind.

There is no longer any doubt about it. Trump believes his own nonsense and eats his own PR for breakfast. In his own mind, once he’s elected again. Then he can make all those nasty federal investigations just go away. And make all the cops go away. Then it will be his turn to make the buggers eyes water. He’ll be the President again, and everyone will be happy. The sun will come out and shine and the birds will sing again! And maybe for an encore, he will fly around the room.

Festering in his billionaire’s mausoleum, watching the days tick off the calendar without him in them. Anxious to return it to how it was back in the good old days. Nothing but the projections of an old sick mind, who projects reality to be whatever he personally wants reality to be.

Declaring the best future for America to be his insane memories of good old days! “You know, the good old days.” Remember? The good times! Back when he was President, and everything in the world was just perfect.

“No Elvis, you do not look fat to me! Who told you that Elvis? They’re crazy, you look great! Yeah sure, You’re the king. I got your pills right here Elvis.”

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