A Duet of Daddy's Boys

March 9, 2018
Copyright © 2018 E.W. Horne. All Rights Reserved.

The TV announcers are all a-twitter with excitement: TheDonald has announced that he will meet with Kim Jong–un. His spokesmouthpiece is all a-twitter with explanations: he thought it up himself and it's a great occasion and it's what leaders do when they're working things out.

What hogwash. The president of my country meeting with a petty dictator who is launching Russion rockets and testing Russion nuclear weapons doesn't merit a casual glance from the United States, nor the time it would take Barack Obama to cross the thought off his list of preposterous suggestions from PR hacks. The idea is so abhorent that it boggles my mind.

This is how far the country I fought for in Vietnam has fallen, and how fast. A jackass has attained the presidency by proving that the average voter can't see beyond his nose, or think beyond his next Bud Lite, or even participate in what used to be a democracy beyond obeying whatever orders the great white father-figure spouted during his latest rally while he tries to prop up his tower-sized ego and deny his gargantuan errors.

That they are two peas in a pod is as obvious as my anger: two daddy's boys, standing on dead men's legs, posturing and preening and flinging their feces as if they were chimpanzies at a zoo meant for zombies. That they hate each other, equally so: they each can see through the other and react to the reflection of themselves - meagre, narcissistic brats who are now both threatening each other with the most powerful weapons of our time, while they demand that we mere mortals jump up when they pass and adore their self-image of prominence and privilege.

Donald, you're a fool, and all the worse a fool for presuming to be a president when your folded arms and cabinet-room press conferences and electronic messages made at four a.m. are proof prima facie that you're a scared man-boy looking for the love your daddy denied you. You have given your alter-ego the status of a world leader when he deserves a time-out in the corner of his Kremlin handler's' press office, while his border guards stand duty with parasites in their bodies and slogans for nourishment.

The fact that you are stupid and vain and moronic enough to elevate your mirror-image to the status of your equal on the world stage is not in doubt: what is open to question is how your base got so gullible and your handlers so careless and your arrogance so all-consuming.

Be sure to tell the little rocket man that your missiles are bigger than his, while the cameras flash and record the fall of a once-proud nation into our new place as another backwater kleptocracy that serious leaders joke about while they sip European wines and dine on South American beef and ride in cars made of Chinese steel.

I'm ashamed to be an American today.