“They Just Let You Do It!”

By David Glenn Cox

Let’s dance backwards as we look over our shoulders trying to see where we are going. How in disassembly, we can see how things fit together more clearly. Who remembers? Way back in the good old days, when Donald Trump’s Hippie physician authored a letter claiming Trump could run faster and jump higher than any other mortal man his age. A veritable physical masterpiece of health, he was.

From the appearance and obvious embellishment of the text of the letter, it seemed clear to me. This was the doctor you went to see to get your Xanax prescription or a note for work to explain your absences. You can’t tell a book by its cover, but not so a physician. Does your doctor look like he or she plays lead guitar in a rock band? Or are they a free spirit? Nothing wrong with being a free spirit or playing guitar in a rock band. Only, it won’t get you hired at the Cleveland Clinic. What audience will they attract in such garb?

A faux billionaire and a New York Real Estate developer? This is the same kind of doctor who diagnosed Trump’s bone spurs and cured Trump’s accompanying “Yellow” spine fever. I remembered watching the doctor’s interview and thinking to myself, this guy just doesn’t look like a big shot’s physician. His office didn’t look like a big shot’s office. But what do I know? Maybe he’s an old family friend and imminently qualified or something.

Flash forward to 2017 when Doctor Bornstein was confronted in his office by Donald Trump’s bodyguard Keith Schiller and Trump attorney Alan Garten. Along with another unnamed (probably) large man. They rousted the good doctor and removed the file with ALL of Donald Trump’s medical records. The good doctor said they were looking for, “medical records, his pictures, anything they could find.” And “created a lot of chaos” for the 25 to 30 minutes that they were in his office.”

“Chaos” is an interesting word to choose, don’t you think? So, they didn’t just knock on the door and come in smiling and asking? They rousted the place and turned the place upside down. Sending a clear message, “If you wanna keep playing “Hotel California” down at the Holiday Inn by the airport on the weekends. You don’t know nothing, see?

The Trump White House called it “Standard procedure.” And for once, I believe them. See? They didn’t always lie. I believe this was the actual standard operating procedure for a mob boss. Standard procedure for sending a message Western Union can’t handle. The witch Baba Yaga says you best keep your trap shut or you’ll see her again sometime real soon.

But why? Why not just send a lowly pair of agents from the FBI with an official looking paper. Under some obscure law enacted after Pearl Harbor. The President’s medical records are hereby sealed forever under a national security act. The doctor is further advised never to ever divulge the contents of the file under penalty of federal prison. Same, same, the same job is accomplished, only without the chaos. And without what? Without Donald Trump’s personal messaging touch.

They say a thing’s true value can best be judged by what people would do to obtain it.

Now, what do we know about some men in particular? Men who believe women just, let you do it? Promiscuous types of men, with broken egos who just are never sexually satisfied either for physical or emotional reasons. They just let you do it because they are easy and would probably let anyone, not just you, do it. (See: Bruises caused by ten-foot poles.)

 Do you see the disconnect? In Alabama, they might say he’s subject to get something on him that Tide won’t wash off! Or if you keep fishing with your short pole in the dark, you’re liable to catch something bigger than you!

Rumors have surfaced after lesions appeared on Donald Trump’s tiny little hands. Lesions similar in appearance to those found in cases of secondary syphilis. After the initial syphilis infection, the symptoms appear to go away, and the disease lies apparently dormant in the body. Busily eating away at brain cells and only appearing publicly from time to time as the now famous red lesions.

@kathapollit@mastodon. social

“I really doubt Trump has syphilis. It is easily cured, and he has plenty of access to medical care.”

Mr. Trump sure does have plenty of access to healthcare, doesn’t he? He could go to the finest physicians on Park Ave in New York, but he doesn’t do that does he? He visits old Doc Dependable. The one his wife doesn’t know about. The important word in the diagnosis is secondary. The original infection could be decades old. But wouldn’t it have been discovered before now?

Maybe, maybe not, if being treated by Doctor feel good. Who would suggest giving the President a Clap test? A strong-willed President potentially in denial who is subject to emotional outbursts. A common symptom of secondary syphilis, sudden emotional outbursts, and cognitive decline. But I’m not saying nothing, you draw your own conclusions. I’m only asking, is it possible?

A busy faux billionaire with a broken ego and short attention span without standards could be infected with the clap? Then through carelessness, denial, or poor treatment, could develop secondary syphilis? Let me ask the question in another way. If I were to tell you, one modern American President in recent history was discovered to have contracted secondary syphilis. Which President would you guess first?

“She was a charitable sort of a girl. She was the kind of girl if she had something, and you wanted it. Why you could have it and welcomed to it, all you had to do was ask her for it.” – Mark Twain