The need to feel productive for a minute, because reason, is the germative inspiration for this post.
Was hanging out at Edroso’s basement and ran into a kid who left a link written by one of his favorite writer of sports It’s a piece in the Hill and squeals of “let me in the fucking club already.” Accompanied by the pounding of fists on the door.
Anyway I gave the piece a graph to capture my attention before deciding that the only reason to read more would be to deride the fucking everlasting shit out of it. My initial reaction follows:
Barack Begat Donald
Thats the title of the piece, now granted, he may not have come up with the quip, but that nearly stopped me at the gate.
Barack Obama was in a bad mood.
It was early April 2008 when I
took my 7-year-old daughter to see presidential candidate, and then-Sen.
Obama (D-Ill.), in downtown San Antonio. The election was months away,
but there was a palpable sense of inevitability in the air and I wanted
my daughter to soak in the evening’s historical significance perched
atop my shoulders while we listened to Obama speak.
Perfect, right out of the gate with an unprovable assertion, pivot to daddy’s little darling on the shoulder, which really is all about me, me, me.
So admitting to not having read past the first graph which proves to some of our favored trolls, something…I have the piece in another tab and we shall begin the eviscerations….
Graph the second:
Perhaps it was his loss to Hillary Clinton in the state primaries contested on that warm April evening, but there was very little inspiration in his words. Instead I felt a baritone anger booming from the giant speakers. In that moment, the “change” so often promised morphed from hope into something darker for me; something more ominous.
Damn, straight in we have busted out the Foghorn whistles ala Leghorn. “Angy Assed, Sore Loosing, Uppity, Fucking Nigger, is harshing my buzz.” Tarted up nicely for polite company, but damn, if I can’t smell the desperation to get off of the sports beat and into some wingnut sinecure.
Shaking head, I have to admit on some level to being impressed with the bravado…Any way on to graph three:
Snipers were perched atop the courthouse in the distance while upbeat music from Stevie Wonder and Curtis Mayfield wailed. It all served as a fitting sensory contradiction and the diversity in the crowd was a sight to behold: young, old, brown, black and white, all together, all surging toward the stage.
OK, It is gonna take a minute or two for my eyes to adjust to this trainwreck of a, um, not even fucking sure what to call…I mean word salad seems a bit kind…I’ll leave “…fitting sensory contradiction….” to our resident genii.
The surreality of the evening were prelude to his delivery, which was more Willie Stark than John Kennedy. I noticed the contrast of his slow-burning, elegantly coiffed power, pitted against the crowd’s unadulterated joy for him.
“…were prelude…” “…slow-burning, elegantly coiffed…” WTF? If gifted/afflicted with synesthesia, this shit might make sense.
On to the fourth, where hopefully the train re-rails:
It has been seven years and many miles, but as I consider Obama’s presidency, I think about that night. My optimism dissipated while listening to raucous chants of “Yes We Can!” and I left with the inescapable sense that Obama, soon to be the most powerful man in the world, wasn’t speaking to me. In fact, he had no interest whatsoever in winning me over. He knew already that he could succeed without me.
Would somebody please hand this wank a Fleshlight™, a fucking mirror in which to indulge his inner Narcissus, and a fucking Ham sandwhich to replenish his Me-ness after finishing.
I deeply wish every election, every referenda, every decision made was always and forever about Me. Then, only then, would the world be set right. I am beginning to feel the gordian knot closing around me as if I stumbled into a nest of hungry Pythons.
Gonna skip that one and I’ll just leave my impression:
Aside from the lies, fanfic, and projection, there is an odd coherence to the bit.
Six, nearing the point:
And now, here we are, hurtling along with our hair on fire in the summer of Donald Trump. I’m captivated by his speeches — not for his eloquence or oratory, but more for his inability to explain anything beyond how rich and smart he believes himself to be.
And…The let’s see if I can justify my thesis, or is there anything left in the gaping hole of my tortured ass that I can grab…:
On the surface, attempting to compare the two is a fool’s errand. Trump is the chainsaw to Obama’s scalpel, but dig deeper and the similarities are there: both rhetorical methods serve their purpose, both get the job done. The vacuousness of Obama’s — “this was the moment when the rise of the oceans began to slow and our planet began to heal” — has been trumped by Trump’s clumsy “whatever it is, I know how to do things. I just want to make this country so great, and that’s what’s going to happen.”
Jesus…Next stop, a fine toothed comb and a dingleberry harvest….
And, ironically, most of those who chose to sit out the last two presidential elections — thereby accelerating Obama’s ascension — are responsible now for the rise of Trump. In this tragic comedy, Obama’s narcissism, his polite classlessness, his ruthless pursuit of largely unpopular ends that so fueled his supporters for the better of the last decade, have all comically transformed into the vehicle driving Trump’s summer success. All things considered and rhetorical prowess aside, there is little separating the abiding philosophies of Obama and Trump. Strangely, Trump unequivocally owes his early campaign success to Obama.
Sorry folks, this is where I start dreaming of sitting in my chair watching a documentary, or putting a bullet through my fucking skull knowing that this shithead lives in my world and got paid to write the last bit that I will share:
As a conservative, I can reconcile my disconnect with Obama and those that support him. And while not pleasant, knowing that the current president never attempted to persuade me is understandable.
Sure it is dude-bro, sure it is…