This Carbon Based Life

By David Glenn Cox

Donald Trump hosts a disco party as a 78-year-old Dick Clark wanna be or “Sweating to the Oldies.” The loyal Trumpers were sizzling like bacon and falling out from the heat. A sociologist might someday ask. How long will your average run of the mill dumb ass, stand in oppressive heat conditions pointlessly listening to disco music?  Music they could more comfortably listen to somewhere else.

After a second little sizzler fell out in the crowd Mr. Trump suggested they cancel the Q&A and just listen to music. Much cooler that way, I guess. “Hey! I got an idea! Let’s abandon the reason why we’re all here and just play records! Sure, watch me get my groove on!”

I guess you’d just have to be there to really appreciate the event. The look on the faces of the Trump team when Mr. Trump suddenly abandoned the plan. Jaws dropped, fists pounding and sedative taking along with cries of “NO!!!!” A winner every time! Round and round he goes and where he stops, nobody knows! Just turn him loose, hide all the breakables and cover your eyes.

It is only the nine thousandth example of Grandpa Donald forgetting what he was watching on TV during the commercial break. It is a relatively simple operation. You go out there and say X,Y and Z. Take a few softball questions, Smile wave, act human for a few minutes and exit stage right! But they can’t do that, can they? Mr. Donald is consecutively and consistently missing his mark and going off script.

“Let’s just listen to music.” Duh, what? Just listen to music? On any other face in the world that would qualify as completely insane. Sweat along with Donald! He’s just going to zone out on stage for a few minutes now and groove out on some heavy tunes. But his public events call for Donald’s best behavior and he can no longer pull it off. Another day, another miscue. If he can’t keep it together on stage, he’s not far from a sippy cup. We’re only seeing the tip of the iceberg. Things backstage must be something out of Dante’s Inferno.

Tony Scaramouche called it by X-ing, “The October Surprise is Trump losing his marbles.”

The public only sees an hour or so of Mr. Trump’s busy day. Mr. Trump has been briefed and had it all explained to him what the staff had in mind. Microphones are set up and softball questions arranged. It’s like hitting off a tee. The entire event has been designed around this moment. “It’s hot, let’s listen to music!”

This is the golden hour and a half! This should be the pinnacle of Donald Trump’s day, and what do they get? “Let’s listen to music.” Of course, for the sound man operating the CD player, this was news. For everybody else tasked with putting the campaign event together, this was news.

About an hour is the answer for the run of the mill dumb ass question. The campaign quickly played out its legally approved audio playlist as the peasant proselytites headed for the exits shutting things down early. Another successful event for the Trump team! Only slightly worse than yesterday, but not as bad as a possible tomorrow. He’s subject to say just about anything at this point. “Everybody get naked! Or “Play that funky music White boy!”

Mr. Trump is polling behind in four of seven battleground states of which, Mr. Trump can’t afford to lose even one. In Ohio, the safest of Republican Yankee strongholds Mr. Trump’s lead has progressively eroded. It is still safe territory for Trump, but if the decline continues? This dogeared tangled mess of campaign appearances will depress the Trump turnout. The Ohio Republicans won’t have an epiphany and decide to vote for Kamala Harris. Instead, they will have an epiphany and decide to stay home, and watch wrestling on TV and avoid the whole thing. It’s only fun when you’re winning. It’s only fun when the candidate isn’t painful to watch.

Donald Trump’s declining performance has a subliminal effect on voters. They still might pronounce their faith in Donald Trump publicly, but inside, they have questions. They won’t come right out and say the White Sox suck! But they won’t buy any season tickets either. It’s only human nature given the choice between doing something you are unsure of and comfortably not doing it. They can still tell their friends they voted for Donald Trump, and no one will ever know the truth.

There is also the X factor as Elon Musk put it. “If Trump loses, I’m fucked.” That’s keeping a stiff upper lip there Elon and keep exuding that confidence! Confidence is contagious!

When Bush the elder ran against Bill the philanderer, there was a political malaise. One Reagan, two Reagan and one Bush, and the public wanted change. One Trump, two Trump and now three dips Trump. What does the public want? There’s a reason why a candidate only gets two bites of the apple. After two tries, you’re labeled as a political loser. Over the hill, a visionary politician moving far ahead of their retirement with a glorious past to revel in. We have some lovely parting gifts including Rice a Roni. The San Francisco treat.

Team Trump is at a crossroads, limit Mr. Trump’s future public appearances and risk not finishing strong. Or continue along the path, close their eyes and hope for the best. Let’s take the Arlington incident as a baseline. Has Mr. Trump’s campaign done better on the campaign trail since Arlington? Yeah, I didn’t think so either. You’ll notice a lack of any other attempted photo ops. Nope, can’t do any of those. Just public appearances. Make a little speech, answer a few questions, and bang zoom, we’re out the door! “Let’s just listen to music!”

In Republican headquarters, they begin to face the music.

“He may look like an idiot and talk like an idiot but don’t let that fool you. He really is an idiot.” ― Groucho Marx