This Carbon Based Life

By David Glenn Cox

It must be about the most unappreciated peace treaty of all time, unless you include all those treaties over sugar islands or exporting coconuts during the seventeenth century. Even King Trump is unsure if he will attend the artificial peace ceremony. He’s undecided; maybe he’ll show up if he feels like it and doesn’t have anything planned during his “executive” time. Send that sniveling little tur, I mean, send the Vice President! He can sign. He can sign his name, right? He’s got a pen, clean underwear and shined shoes, doesn’t he? Send him!

But stop. What’s wrong with this picture? Is this the sort of behavior we’ve come to expect from our dear Donald? “Big show in Switzerland! Lots of cameras and microphones, and ass-kissing galore! And Donald isn’t for certain if he can make it? That just ain’t right, now is it? This is the guy with COVID climbing the White House steps trying to pretend like he didn’t have COVID and it wasn’t so bad, when we could all see it was that bad. For all of his negative traits, give the fat, orange dog a bone; he’s a stubborn one, he is.

Now after the octagon lights have all gone dim and the little people have hauled away all of the trappings of white trash splendor. Maybe the post eighty-year-old birthday blues have set in. Knowing you’ll be taking cognitive tests four times a year and not remember taking even one. Perhaps it was all too much for the old boy, and he said that out of tiredness or exhaustion. A whole sixty million dollar birthday party can be very tiring! Quick, somebody call the Guinness Book of World Records. And we don’t even know what other gifts Donald received. What do you get for the man who steals everything?

Here’s how the media works: If the wrastling event on the White House lawn had had spectacular ratings, the media would be gushing at this magnificent event. Not since Neil Armstrong stepped foot on the moon! But, on the other hand; if the ratings were butt awful and in ‘Jump the Shark territory,’ the media would say…nothing about it. Nothing about the terrible optics or the widespread bipartisan public disapproval. Only 16% of Democrats and 31% of Republican voters approved of the event. Class? What do we do when Donald Trump publicly fucks up?

“Change the subject?” Blame Joe Biden! “Play equalism? Teddy Roosevelt changed the curtains, so I can knock down the East wing.” No class! You’ve got to completely ignore it. Poof! It never happened. Octa what? The event went off so badly that their only available option was to bury it. Fire bad! Trump drops the subject, but some element seems to be missing. The king appeared at the G-7 meeting looking stiff and lethargic. He gained six hours and had a big airplane to sleep in all the way. He should be in good shape unless too much party hearty equals tardy. It’s just all too much at eighty.

Or it could be something else? Mr. Trump doesn’t kiss any ugly babies. He doesn’t want his picture taken with overweight women. He doesn’t associate himself with failing projects. Maybe Mr. Trump sees that reported peace ceremony as nothing more than the ultimate turd-polishing ceremony. And that political turd weighs at least ninety thousand pounds and threatens to destroy any politician who has his or her picture taken with it! Send JD! Let him sign it! Tee, he, tee, he. “JD, come in here, I’ve got a big job for you! This is your chance, biggin. Go get em!”

J.D. Vance is anxious like a paper tiger in a Kleenex box. This is his big chance. Trump rarely sits one out or shares the spotlight with anyone, unless. Do you remember that photo in your high school history book of Neville Chamberlain waving his document signed by Hitler calling for peace in our time? Trump fears taking a photo like that. Trump says it’s a good deal! But he doesn’t want his picture taken with it. See? That’s smart. That’s how mobsters stay out of jail. Knowing when to send your second in command to the ceremony. Today Trump approves, but six months from now it could be a different story. I don’t know what JD was thinking? I didn’t tell JD to give Iran all of that money! I’m shocked that JD would do all of that!

One of my favorite films in life is ‘The Maltese Falcon.’ Nearing the end of the film, the conspirators meet, deciding on what story to tell the police. Humphrey Bogart suggests they  “Give him the gunsel.” The low-grade young gunman of the group. The expendable one. The one person they can pin everything on, and all get away Scott free! “Give em Wilmer!”

I would wager that you, like I, have wondered considerably how Donald Trump would worm himself out of this one. This is the worst foreign policy disaster in the history of the United States. This one makes the Bay of Pigs look like a church picnic. We’re talking about the fall of Saigon here! The Untied Snakes had promised to defend all of those little oil-rich states and have promptly failed! Donald Trump did that! Iran just showed the world how it’s done.  

A plan is coming into focus “Give him the gunsel!” Give them Wilmer, I mean JD! “Oh JD, I have a little job for you!” The administration is so proud of its diplomatic accomplishment the details won’t be released. JD insists no money has changed hands, but it has already through intermediaries. All the details have been neatly kicked down the road to the land where memories aren’t so sharp. It’s not a peace treaty, you know. And it’s not even a ceasefire. It’s a memorandum of understanding.

It’s an agreement to meet and discuss issues. A non-binding agreement, with no promise of peace coming out the other end. Is Iran going to be taxing ships the strait? TBD. Iran’s nuclear future? TBD. The defense of the Gulf-states? Questionable. At best! A 1.5 trillion dollar annual military budget looking nearly helpless and obsolete before the drones.

How will Mr. Trump avoid signing the instrument of surrender? He’ll send JD Vance to do it!

“The cheaper the crook, the gaudier the patter.”
― Dashiell Hammett, The Maltese Falcon