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MEA CULPA |
GIVE THE GOP A LANDSLIDE VICTORY |
THE ELEPHANT, THE ROOM, AND THE
PEOPLE
PART II |
THE ELEPHANT, THE ROOM, AND THE PEOPLE
PART I |
MONEY GRUBBING FEMALES, UNITE! |
WE AREN’T ELECTING A HOMECOMING QUEEN |
DESPERATELY SEEKING SUSAN |
THE TOOTSIE ISSUE |
Toddlers 4 President! |
CRYING BABIES AND OTHER PRESSING
MATTERS OF STATE |
Democratic Convention 2016: How It
Might Have Been |
I’D LIKE TO FEEL THE BERN,
ONLY…
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AN UNFORTUNATE REMEMBRANCE
OF THINGS PAST
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On Matters of the Lie, the
War, and Judgment |
EGO, POLITICS, AND THE
PRESIDENCY |
On Getting What We Deserve |
HOW JANUARY 2017 WILL LOOK |
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THE TOOTSIE ISSUE
For a little more than ten
years, I lived down the street from a woman I’ll call Tootsie. She
had a lovely home that would have been lovelier had it not been
overly filled with objects: crystal chandeliers, ornate furniture,
collectables on nearly every surface, a dining table that was
constantly set with china, silver, and Waterford goblets,
photographic portraits of herself, her children, and herself with
husband and children, even an authentic popcorn cart in her family
room. In mink jacket and black pearls, she walked her dog in the
evenings. In her front yard was displayed over the years a growing
panoply of garden ornaments, benches, fountains and lighting
fixtures. It was an unusual collection of goods that at first I
didn’t understand. As I came to know her a little better and as I
met her extended family, I could see that, having grown up in
circumstances in which these kinds of things were beyond her reach,
she was determined to fill a well of emptiness that she believed the
absence of ownership had left within her. It was as if all her
possessions said to the world “This is who I am”, without her being
able to understand that who she was would always be unrelated to
what she owned.
Marketing experts in a capitalist economy serve the interests of the
companies they work for by making people believe—through
advertising—that they will be different, they will feel different,
they will appear different to others if only…And we are meant to
complete that subordinate clause: if only I owned that Porsche, if
only I could drive that Mercedes Benz, if only I lived on the golf
course, if only I had perfect skin, if only I lost fifty pounds with
this new diet system, if only I bought this new skin product that
swears I will lose every line on my face. If only. Each time we go
for it with “if only” as our reason, we attempt to fill an empty
place within us that cannot be filled by possessions or by anything
that is not learned wisdom and tranquility. And we all have empty
places because it’s impossible not to have them unless one has
attained enlightenment, which is a steep challenge for most of us.
Having watched and listened and thought about Donald Trump for many
months now, I’ve come to believe that he is—for whatever reason—a
man of profound emptiness, unaware of how his actions have attempted
for years to fill him up. But because the manner in which he has
attempted to fill himself up cannot actually do the job and because
he hasn’t been able to understand the why behind his
behavior, he has continued along the same path, reaching higher and
higher for more and more, satisfied for a moment or a day or a
month, only to feel empty once again. This, of course, is the
problem with attempting to fill internal emptiness with external
goods. One feels a momentary satisfaction only. Soon enough the
emptiness returns because an external object cannot ever define the
being that resides inside a person.
His penthouse inside Trump Tower in New York City is a good example
of this. With its gold furniture and golden pillars and sumptuous
decorations, it is more than a monument to execrable taste. It also
serves as testimony to Mr. Trump’s emptiness as well as in
indication of how Mr. Trump truly feels about himself. It shouts. It
demands, “See? See who I am? See what I have achieved? See how rich
I am?” In doing this, it gives him permission to be nothing,
actually, and least of all a person of substance. He is Ozymandias
made flesh before us.
When people lack substance, they seek something else to put it its
place. In Donald Trump’s case, his name upon buildings, hotels, and
golf courses as well as packages of meat, bottles of water and wine,
baseball caps, and other assorted Trumpernalia have long stood in
place of his having a core. This is one of the reasons he “sells”
his name, allowing it to be put on structures with which he isn’t
personally associated. The more he is known, the better he feels,
the more filled up, the less empty. Additionally, garnering
attention in various ways has always shored him up: from his early
declarations to the media in his younger years that he just “might
run for President” to his snatching at opportunities for publicity
during the last eight years with his various demands that President
Obama prove his citizenship.
Donald Trump’s run for the Presidency of the United States has
served as another way to fill the empty spots inside of him. Night
after night he has been featured on the news. Morning after morning,
his phone calls have been taken by talk shows. Day after day his
tweets have received national coverage by various journalists. All
of this has allowed him to feel whole at the same time as it has
also allowed him to wear the guise of a person of substance. Indeed,
we who have watched him lo these many months have created the
monster that we see before us now.
People will argue that Donald Trump has only given voice to what
“some kinds” of people have been thinking all along, and this is
true. But in giving it voice, Mr. Trump has tacitly promoted racism,
xenophobia, misogyny, and ignorance by letting it be known that it
has only been “political correctness” that has kept people silent
for so long. What has been unleashed as a result, is an underbelly
of American citizenry the exposure of which to the light of day has
diminished the very purpose for which that the United States of
America was created in the first place at the same time as it has
damaged the electoral process in ways that might well be beyond
recovery.
I cast my first vote for President forty-six years ago. In the
elections before I was old enough to vote and in all the elections
since I have been a voter, I have never seen anything that remotely
compares to what I’m seeing now. For while I did not like nor did I
vote for Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, or George
W. Bush, at least those individuals stood for something, no matter
the degree to which I disagreed with them. But Mr. Trump stands for
nothing save his own desperate need to be—at long last—a complete
person in his own eyes. The problem with this approach to meeting
what is in reality a psychological need is that achieving the
ultimate goal of the Presidency is very much like purchasing the
ultimate automobile. The fulfillment he will feel if he wins the
election will be fleeting only. He can listen to the Marine Corps
Band play “Hail to the Chief” till hell freezes over, but it simply
will not change who he is at the heart of who he has always been.
- Elizabeth George
Whidbey Island
Washington State
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