This can’t be good.
By J’Mel Davidson
Hello friends, readers, and future lovers.
I am not a political type. Politics don’t use the side of the brain where I prefer to do my living. But occasionally something occurs or is threatened that forces even me to put down my blue raspberry slush puppie and steady myself on the proverbial soapbox.
So…Donald Trump. People are listening to him. And not ironically. And not with their fingers crossed.
There are seemingly educated members of real society who are hearing the words coming out of one of Donald Trump’s many face holes and they are picking up what he’s laying down.
Just to be clear, Donald Trump couldn’t care less what I think about him or his circus toilet of a public persona. And why would he? He didn’t get to be a wealthy caricature of a knock-off bargain town troll doll by really caring what people think about him. He got to be wealthy the way any true American does: by being born into old money. Hell, I’d have done the same thing but, you know—poor parents.
Donald Trump’s greatness has nothing to do with his money, though. Charles Montgomery Burns is incredibly rich, but we can all agree that he’s a terrible person. Sure, occasionally his antics amuse us but that’s fine. Why is it fine? Because Mr. Burns is a fictional rich idiot and has no chance of ever speaking publicly to millions on television and the Internet.
My point is that Donald Trump is real, and none of his antics are amusing at all. He shares space with humans. He exists. And where Mr. Burns can block out the sun in his town and control all the power to people’s homes while trying to kill a litter of puppies, none of us sentient 3-dimensional creatures can ever really be harmed by his shenanigans.
But Trump—he’s always been a bit amusing, like a billionaire(?) version of Donnie, the slow boy that lives under the abandoned middle school. Donnie is on the fringes of normal society and sometimes you’ll catch him dancing around in the town square or yelling an ignorant and offensive tirade at strangers, but at the end of the day it’s fine. Slow Donnie is relatively harmless.
But now Slow Donnie has somehow managed to amass a—what? A following? Cult? A slow-witted pod-based murder of C.H.U.D.s? What they are called isn’t as important as the fact there is enough of them to cause concern.
Not because I’ve allowed myself to believe for one second that Slow Donnie could ever achieve the power he seeks. Not even I am that fatalist, and I laugh at death and cry at birth.
No, the true concern is that you and I, typical day-to-day decent real life Americans, can see through Donnie’s insane rambling, but there are others who hear it and, somehow, agree and applaud Donnie for his thoughts!
It is truly terrifying.
“He’s saying what others are afraid to say!” Well, yeah. Because the others don’t want to seem like $&@!ing craynanas in public.
“He’s making a stand because political correctness has gone too far!” Well, no. You’re confusing political correctness with common sense and decency.
We are living in what could potentially be the first act of the third Omen film—the one where the Son of Satan ends up beboppin’ and scattin’ all over Washington D.C.
Or the Dead Zone—would you really want Donald Trump within spitting distance of America’s nuclear launch capabilities without the possibility of Christopher Walken taking a shot at his head? The same grown man who spent years launching Mean Girls level tweets at Katy Perry? Making Rosie O’Donnell fat jokes and writing his name on things? THIS is the man that you believe is “telling it like it is”?
If Donald Trump’s recent debate responses were contributed to a fictional character in a film starring, I don’t know, Daniel Day Lewis, critics would scoff at a character that was too unbelievable and blatantly designed to incite.
But he is a real. person. Saying and thinking these things for real. And I’m scared. I’m genuinely concerned. And if you aren’t, even just a little…Well…