Last night the three lead dogs of the Republican slog pack spent half their time insulting each other while jabbering over each other like kids on a playground.
On each end of the field, two dignified leaders found it difficult to enter into the A Tu Brutay fray that was was playing out, back and forth over the fifty-yard line, where mister haughty master of ceremonies held court.
The saddest fact of all is that the man best qualified to fulfill the office of the President of the United States is Gov. John Kasich.
But that will never happen because by this time next year that office will be occupied by the guy who thinks he knows how to fix everything.
Trump will be like a Roosevelt, but without the benevolence. FDR was, like the Donald, a take-charge kind of guy, which is certainly what we need now, but. . .
Whereas Roosevelt’s arrogance was to some extent tempered by his polio disability, there is apparently no veiled vulnerability to impose a humility cap upon Trump’s hubris. Trump as President will be like having an Il Duce in the White House. He will make the trains run on time; he will make the great Mexican wall get built; there will be something for every Tom Dick and Harry to take home when he gets to the end of the breadline, and Trumpcare will take the tricks that Obamacare had bid on. But there will be no joy in Mudville when the cows come home.
Which is to say, more like a Caesar than a Roosevelt or a Reagan.
Whereas Trump displays some admirable plain-speaking qualities, his unceasing projection of what is referred to in Psalm 101 as the “haughty look” will ultimately be his downfall; and the cold hard truth is it will ultimately be our downfall too.
America, if you want to hookup with this guy there is nothing I can do to stop you, but be sure you got some Trojan-enz to slip over the projection before it enters into the sacred Oval orifice, because you are about to be violated.