Never in my life did I think I would stumble upon the greatest failure in all of America History. For decades there will be books written about his golden showers, his perfection towards- impeccable ability to lower the lower class below the surface of the ground. His healthcare plan, the one thing he hasn’t plastered his name on in every sentence, will go down in history as a remarkably wise choice for the entire 1%. Did I say history? I meant, it will go down in the present? I cannot honestly predict with accuracy that there will be a future. Nevertheless, keeping his name off the health care bill is probably the smartest thing he has done yet. It shows that he has a brain. He is what we would like to refer to as the abominable snowman. Cold, heartless, and evil.
Here I was drinking in a gay bar and watching sports. (why was it on this channel?)
“Bud-Light, please,” I ask the bartender. She seemed in a fowl mood and I did not blame her. Instead of getting loaded on alcohol, she was watching other’s getting loaded. She was in a bit of a catch-22. Nevertheless, I smile at her as she delivers my beer.
I was about to get up from my chair and mosey on into the courtyard. I came to this bar out of mere boredom. I had nothing else to do. Every now-and-than I would meet somebody interesting and it just so happens that I met the most fascinating- i’ll be it mental- but nevertheless fascinating- man that night. He sat down beside me as he rubbed his nose perpetually.
“I love cocaine,” he muttered. “Makes me feel alive. I am very successful business man. Very successful. I beat everybody. You want to know how good I am?” He asked with this dull expression on his face. His lower lip hung down like a shirt sagging on a coat hanger.
“How?” I said with interest.
“I bought an orphanage, demolished it, built it into a hotel, and now- now it is worth millions. That’s how good I am. The children were crying because they lost their home and I was crying because I made a financial fortune,” he says rubbing his nose. “Bar Tender- A Shirley Temple he hollered. Two cherries.”
“Sounds like you were born in a manger,” I scoff.
“Your a democrat aren’t you?” he asks me.
“Well, I guess you could say that,” I muttered as I took a swig of my beer.
“I hate democrats,” he said bluntly while rubbing his nose. “They are always complaining about not having food, or a place to sleep, or some stupid medical bill but oh- of course- they can buy their new iphone. My point of view is that there are those that will rise above the rest- the strong- and the weak will vanish. We need to fill this country with people who rise to the top- screw the bottom amount. Why should our country slug behind because of misbreads?”
My eyebrows arched at this and I looked at him with my deep blue eyes as I tried to understand his lack of empathy. Did this man know what he was saying?
“Well, as it just so happens, I hate republicans,” I said, and continued, “And- oh Yes, not buying a 500 dollar phone will put a large dent in hefty medical bills.”
He did not catch my sarcasm.
“No, you can not hate me. I am republican” says the man. “I am a people person. I like black people, even though none of my friends do. I think I once had a black friend. His name was Thaddeus or Lunetia or Ethyle. Ah who the fuck care what her or his name was.” I laugh at this ladder comment, as I find it quite odd, but nevertheless, I am oddly attentive. I assume he is just fucked up but he was starting to make me feel slightly uncomfortable. My laugh was a timid one.
“But, and I will tell you this, but you cannot tell anybody,” he whispered so closely to my ear that I could feel his breath.
“Mexicans are ruining our country.”
“Is that a fact?” I asked.
“To me it is,” he said nonchalantly.
“Well, I do not know if that qualifies it as a fact,” I say with bent eyebrows.
“I have very reliable sources,” he says. “I am a filthy rich and guess what, I don’t pay taxes. Got friends in the government.”
“What in the world does that have to do with Mexicans?” i ask as I segway back to the initial point. “I think the diversity of America is what makes it so great, America stands for diversity. At least it did.” I said it in a solid tone and jumped in my seat as he responded,
“FAKE NEWS! FAKES NEWS!”
“What the fuck?” I asked.
“I say that when I do not want to acknowledge the truth,” he whisper to me as he moves his bar stool towards me. I move mine back a bit.
“If you knew the millions I made an hour, I tell you, you would love me!”
“Why would I love you? Your money?” I asked indifferently. You honestly think American’s would want a leader that was financially successful? A business man is a good thing but there is such a thing as ethics and dignity,” I said this with dissipating hostility as I realized this man was nuts.
“Because I am me! That is why America would want me! I will be president” he says as he throws his arms into the air as if he were grasping for mardigrass beads.
I give him a sideways glance that said, “What the fuck,” and tried to quickly down the rest of my beer. I wanted to get away from whomever this was- this maniac.
“I also have a hot daughter. You could bounce a quarter off her ass. I mean she is fine.”
I finish my beer and gaze into this soulless creatures eyes as I realize this man was delusional and not only was this man delusional but needed help. Psychiatric help. Yes, I most certainly could picture him in a straight jacket- the way he was carrying on. In fact, I would have bet a good sum of money that he had been in a straight jacket before. Then again, it might be the cocaine talking for him. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, and you would to if you were me. My entire life I had been judged by mishaps, while the grand picture went unnoticed.
“I think I am going to run for president! Wouldn’t that be fun? It sounds like fun. I would have all the launch codes to nuclear weapons! Imagine that! Sounds so cool.”
“You do that buddy, you go ahead and do that- I am sure you will win,” I roll my eyes and stand up to leave. “Even if he was rich, what merit would electing money to the White House have. A man who knows business does not necessarily know our country,” I think to myself.
“Oh, I have not given you my name he says as I was turning away.”
I shake his hand as he says, “Names Trump, Donald Trump. And a word to the wise, cocaine made me who I am today. “
“I honestly believe that,” I said with a smirk.
He continued as I tried to leave, “And if you want get a room … ya know…”
I smile at him, “Names Alex, and I think I will pass on your offer. You look like a walking STD- no offense. Besides, you must plan your presidency. I know you got big things going!” He had no idea that I was mocking him and he appeared to have the IQ of a grasshopper.
I left the bar stool and went to my car. If ever the nation rest in his hands I think the America I loved and knew would no longer exist. Yet, I did not give it much thought. He was most likely nobody, addicted to the power of drugs. Addicted to power. Addicted. Yet, as I drove home, I could not get the image of him rubbing his nose and drinking his Shirley temple. He was like a deranged seven year old with the ambition of Hitler and the finesses of Hillary Clinton.
I tossed him out of my mind as I told myself that America was strong and it was individuals like him that made up a minority that nobody paid attention to. Those that did pay attention to him were themselves, deranged, using any excuse to believe vagrant lies. Then again, what is the truth? Truth- it all resides in a person’s opinion. “Kinda sad,” I think to myself, “As long as facts make the world go round then were okay,” but in the pit of my stomach I realize that people fear facts to the extreme that they are willing to live in a world of lies that formulate destructive opinions. These opinions often are so heavily believed that they become facts to that individual. Yet, what the fuck did I care. He was a lonely man, on a lonely stool, promising only loneliness.
People cry the song of the Raven and yet all they do is- rap-a-tap-tap on the window door. American’s will remain steadfast in their beliefs merely because it is a belief. Not a fact but a belief. I am beginning to wonder what is the difference? What differentiates facts from beliefs is becoming more benign by the day. I have no more chance of changing the opinion of a stead-fast Donald Trump supporter’s views than I do a Catholic’s views on Christ. Trump is the new religion. This is the scariest and darkest alley I have ever been in and it seems to wind on endlessly. People rad-a-tap-tap at the window, but they have no clue what is inside. It may look appeasing but it is an act that is done out of habit. They see the glowing fire, and they rad-a-tap-tap- looking for warmth. I do not know where to look or turn. It amazes me that despite Trump’s footstep’s in the wrong direction, there are people that stand by his side with stead-fast certainty. When I watch this on the news I ask myself, “Are we on a psychiatry shortage?” It is okay to have one’s point of view. Everybody has their own point of view. However, when you run a stop sign, is that right or wrong? Obviously, it is wrong, and this is how I feel many Trump supporters react. They go flying through the stop sign and it is okay because, well, they were told it was okay- they believe it to the such a point- they are blind. No logistics rest in their quantitative actions. Trump has the ego of a Roman God, and a destituted outlook towards America of a corrupt politician. At least I know what I am getting from a corrupt political- more corruption. That I am certain of. However, Trump creates vast ambiguity as I wonder if he will start his day with FruitLoop cereal or launch a nuclear weapon. Yet, what is most disturbing is that he does not seem to care about anybody but himself. His comments are all directed towards his staggeringly grand efficiency and his good will. (both of which are non-existent but friends- that too is an opinion) And although, there is no good will or efficiency, people flock to him, and this makes me question one of the greatest truths of this earth- Jesus. If people can so blindly flock to a man who is utterly insane, am I utterly insane for believing in a God that saved me from a life of agony. Lets put a tac in that because my life is agony and with Trump in charge- well- lets just say that tac is not coming out any time soon. I might pray that American’s open their eyes but their is no point- it is not a discussion- it is a delusion- and that is the scariest part of this entire debacle. Facts are irrelevant- there is no discussion- he is our leader- and he is leading us through the picture he sees out his own window… God have mercy on American’s- the blind- the sane- the happy- the mad- the right- the wrong- God have mercy. We need it more than ever. Although, America may no longer have the motto that says, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, that is merely because we have become what we once welcomed. What has changed? Nobody cares about these masses, and yet they make up the vast population of America. You may think this is a joke- and it is- the whole world is laughing at us. Keep rad-a-tapping on that window door.But be careful- it will shatter eventually.