So are we heading for a Mad Max-style future? I don’t think so. After having lived through Donald Trump we’ll surely just call him Max. Trump is behaving so strangely, we’re probably about a month away from not being allowed to make jokes about him.
He’s gone past Charlie Sheen and we’re now entering the bald Britney phase. It’s hard to imagine how America can go back to having a normal president after this. The next president will have to be a car with guns for wheels. After Trump, a Saturday Night Live sketch about Mike Pence would look like something by Samuel Beckett.
Trump is sort of like Father Dougal killed a man, so is wearing Father Jack as a disguise. He looks like the image burned into your retina should you watch a completely normal man burst into flames. Even on an HDTV he looks like a sixth generation VHS recording. A president with the temperament of a wasp that’s spent 40 minutes on musical hold, his Twitter feed reads like he’s building up a credible insanity defence for when he’s finally impeached.
It’s not just that he lives on Twitter, he embodies it: digressive, petty, trivial, poisonous and self-aggrandising. He basically speaks like a totally random stream of tweets. One minute he’s on Mexicans, then he’s talking about his shoes, then a threat, then a joke about a cat.
Last week he held a rally in Phoenix, Arizona – possibly because he thought he’d blend in to a state that is orange, desolate and has a cavernous gap in its heart so huge, people travel the world just to gasp and cry. Phoenix is best known for the song By The Time I Get To Phoenix (She’ll Be Rising), in this case referring to Lilitu the she-demon of the apocalypse. Trump delivered one of his random rightwing word collages in front of a crowd who if they were any whiter would have had carrots for noses.
TVNL Comment: This is a MUST read and a MUST share.
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