by Dan Ozzi
Donald J. Trump will be the next President of the United States. That is going to happen come November 2016. Once elected, he will install 30-foot-tall gold-plated letters spelling his name on the front of the White House. He will be asked about foreign leaders in globally broadcasted press conferences and he will look directly into the camera with those dead, sunken eyes of his and call them morons and losers. He will blow huge chunks of the country’s budget investing in ideas a 10-year-old boy would concoct, like a giant wall around Mexico to keep the “rapists” out. He will do all of these things as the leader of America and we will deserve every minute of it.
You are laughing. You think Trump is a freak show, a lunatic who stands no chance of actually being elected to a position of power. Buddy, look around you. America is a country that thrives on lunacy, a 3,000-mile bi-coastal freak factory that rewards those who can boil their horrid, myopic opinions down to a four-word slogan, and Donald Trump is their king, the future Bumper-Sticker-in-Chief.
Donald Trump is America’s id personified — a walking, talking middle finger. He is the guy from Jersey in a tank top whose favorite phrase is “Ay, jerkoff, c’mere and say it to my face, eh?” He is the retired uncle in line at Chik-Fil-A wearing a trucker hat that says “One Big Ass Mistake America.” He is the Wall Street executive who dictates his own annual multi-million bonus while opposing a $15 minimum wage. Donald Trump is America.
When Bloomberg Politics recently stuffed Trump supporters into a room and asked them what they like about The Donald, the jowly masses responded:
“He doesn’t care what people think, he tells the truth.”
“He’s in touch with what everybody’s thinking, what everybody wants.”
And the special sauce on the Big Mac…
“He’s one of us. He may be a millionaire, but besides the money issue, he’s still in tune with what everybody wants.”
While the rest of the world views Trump as comic relief in our already laughable political system, the sunburned, overweight mouthbreathers of ‘Murica (whose votes all count equally) have spoken: They like Trump. They think he’s a good guy, a straight-shooter. A regular Joe Dickhead, but you know… also a billionaire. He’s convinced them of the greatest character swindle in American politics: He’s just like you.
It’s the same rhetoric that got George W. Bush elected twice. After all, Bush was just like you, especially if you went to the best schools in Connecticut but for some reason spoke with a Texas accent, and if you owned a baseball team, and if your father was head of the CIA, ambassador to China, Vice President of the United States for eight years, and President for four years. Just like you!
You’re still unconvinced. You grasp firmly to the warm, soothing belief that the political left will prevent the national tragedy of a Trump presidency. But you are wrong. The left will be too busy bickering among themselves, arguing over which social justice issue deserves the most prominence, and as a result, will produce the safest, least offensive, most substance-free candidate. Or worse, Hillary Clinton.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the intelligentsia interstate, the one with two different Cheesecake Factories bookending a Costco, Trump not only routinely trashes Latinos and/or China every time there’s a microphone pointed at the puckered rectum on his face, but it’s not even treated as a gaffe. In fact, the more hatred and bigotry that spews out of his mouth hole, the more his numbers seem to go up.
Of course the numbers rise. This is a country that leads the world in obesity rates and gun-related murders, but falls way behind in adult literacy. We are a nation of fat illiterates, shooting each other to death with unprecedented proliferance, which might not be an actual word, but hey, say it to my gun, pal.
America is a nation that considers its greatest literary achievement to be a book of cell phone photos that Kim Kardashian took of herself in the bathroom. It’s a country whose surefire cinematic moneymaker is letting Michael Bay smash toy helicopters into toy oil tankers and make ‘em ‘splode real good. It’s a country whose take on foreign cuisine is Olive Garden.
But surely, America wouldn’t be so gullible as to elect a man most notable for wrapping his wrinkly Earth vessel up in a suit, cinching it together with his own (Chinese-manufactured, shhh) neckties, and sitting in front of a TV camera once a week to grunt out his two-word catchphrase which proudly sends someone down the unemployment chute, right? We are above entrusting our highest security details with a pop culture footnote who, on a scale of cultural dichotomy, is slightly above Honey Boo Boo’s mom, but several notches below a Kevin James movie about a talking gorilla with a wish-granting asshole, yeah? But we are not.
Remember Arnold. Remember Jesse Ventura. Remember Ronald Reagan, a man whose greatest career accomplishment was starring opposite a chimpanzee in a movie. Not only did we elect Reagan (twice) but he is so revered as the patron saint of his party that there are millions of Reaganites who, 30 years later, still delude themselves into believing that he was a selfless patriot who didn’t triple the federal budget deficit, expand the government, or repeatedly raise taxes. He did all of those things, by the way.
So when it comes time to cast your vote, do the truly American thing and vote for President Donald Trump. Hail to the Chief, and God bless America.