Donald Trump

I never thought I would write a blog post about Donald Trump. But he is such a conundrum and there must be an explanation to why a raucous, fussy, child-like, emotionally and intellectually immature, narcissistic adult leads the so-called greatest nation of the world. The country that was once the cradle of the American dream that all the people in the world somehow grew up wishing for. Trump – The Reflection of A Nation, I’d like to say but I have way too many friends across the border that I love and respect, and Trump is as far fetched from them as it gets. Trump – The Shame of a Nation? It doesn’t really work, look at the Patriots. The more I read Q-Anon files – courtesy of a conspiracy theorist friend that I was once in love with – the more I am baffled by how so many people still back this mindless, useless puppet. And then it sinks in. The Fear of a Nation. This is the closest I get to some sort of truth that needs quite a bit of digging in order to be uncovered, though I’m afraid I will never care enough about US politics to make the effort needed to do it. It smells like fear. The fear of white men that they will be permanently stripped from their white American dream. As America becomes more progressive with the times, as well as more colourful, these Trump-like grown-up looking babies who’s fathers, grandfathers and great-grandfathers sailed over to the Americas to build a new world, and have passed their vision on to their offsprings – now squirm and scramble under the unexpected and unforeseen changes to their fairytale world. They are choking under the pressure to accept different perspectives of their world as new cultures, new ethnicities, new Gods invade their once homogenous sanctuaries. Insecurity, frustration and then a deep subconscious fear sets in that reeks miles away from their communities, and they carry around this fear throughout their lives, projecting it through intolerance, arrogance, entitledness and racism. And one day Trump shows up who looks and sounds just like them, who is not afraid to voice their shared emotions, who promises to restore the American dream to its original greatness no matter what it takes, and who sounds unscrupulous and ruthless enough to carry his mission through. He is their Hero. Trump is the American Hero of the victims of the failed American dream. So there he is, hated by half and loved by the other half, a thickening wedge in the crack of an irreparably divided country, laughed at and mocked by a whole world, yet shamelessly paddling away in his puddle of grotesque idiosyncrasy. One hand typing on Twitter, and the other one… clutching the Gold Codes.