The Performing Trump

I’ll take a break from politics until Labor Day, at least, or until Trump quits, whichever comes first. On all sides, this campaign is too much like norovirus. As I leave, I’ll commend this very good essay from Kevin Williamson about the rhetoric of political humor especially Mencken and Twain.

And a last thought about Trump. It occurred to me this morning that, when he says these outrageous things, that he disorients us all. We treat him, naturally enough, like a politician, most of whom are driven by ambition and take some pains not to alienate anyone unnecessarily. Trump is a minigun of offensiveness. We might accept it in a crude sort of stand-up comedy, but it’s disorienting in a politician.

But, perhaps, we shouldn’t think of him as a politician. Perhaps, even in is own mind, that isn’t what he is, despite running for president. Perhaps he sees this all as a sort of performance, indeed, sees his entire life as a performance. He has been playing the role of mogul, of deal-maker, most of his life. He puts his name on everything he owns, usually in immense letters, often shiny. Perhaps he is not especially concerned with winning or losing; he has committed himself to a certain character, and he’s going to play that character to the end.

Let’s think of him for a moment as an actor who has decided that Candidate Trump behaves in certain ways. An actor doesn’t change his characterization in the middle of Act 3, unless he’s out to confuse us. A different motivation might take over, depending on events in the play, but the personality of the character won’t change. The actor, if a good one and a little Method-y, puts the character on, but his own personality is tucked away in a safe place. What the character says, what happens to the character, whether joyous or terrible, don’t affect the actor, nor not much. We’ve all heard of actors who become entirely immersed in their roles for the duration of the performance, but when the play’s run is ended, or filming is completed, they emerge.

Politicians also create public persona, at least since the time of Julius Caesar and maybe before. Caesar crafted a particular persona to win support and kept it before the Roman public. Such political personae are usually exaggerations, edits, of the “real” personality. I’m suggesting that Candidate Trump’s persona is more than usually fictitious.

I’m far from confident in this suggestion, but it makes a little sense to me right now. It seems a little dangerous in a candidate for the presidency, in part because we can’t guess what persona he’ll put on should he take office.

I see that someone else has had a similar idea.

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Eeyores All The Way Down

Among conservative Republicans, an endangered species, there’s a certain amount of squabbling between the #NeverTrump and #NeverHillary camps. This squabbling is unnecessary, because, alas, The Battle for 2016 is over. The Battle for the Future has yet to begin. Trump’s gonna get plowed under.
And not because Ted Cruz is pouting, or Paul Ryan is cold to Trump, or because some guys at National Review have the wind up about him, or because the “Republican establishment” is against him, but because he’s an even worse candidate than Madame. I didn’t think that was possible, but here we are. We should be thinking about #SurvivingHillary and #AfterTrump.
Yeah, I know, both campaigns seem to be run by flatworms. On the same day that Trump announced that the linchpin of his economic plan was . . . . repealing the inheritance tax, Madame allowed a terrorist’s father to be photographed on the stage behind her. And Trump turned around and made an execrable “joke” about “2nd Amendment types taking care” of Hillary.
Such grudging support as Trump has from Republican leaders and down-ticket office holders has always been based mostly on two hopes; that once nominated, he would sober up, running a more or less reasonable sort of campaign, and using his skills at public relations and media manipulation to relentlessly attack Hillary, and, secondly, that, should he win, he could be guided and more or less controlled by grown-up advisors.
Not gonna happen. Trump will continue to be Trump, narcissistic, erratic, and thin skinned. He has no actual ideas, and won’t listen to anyone other than his children and his sycophants. So, #NeverTrumpers and #NeverHillaries, kiss and make up. Got work to do, for the sake of the Republic.
It doesn’t help that conservatives are too often like the Baptists in the Emo Philips joke. There’s a tendency to want a strict ideological purity that would have embarrassed Mikhail Suslov. Doesn’t help much. Please observe the Eleventh Commandment, boys and girls. Break it with great caution (Trump doesn’t count. The Republic comes first).
What to do? I don’t know what mechanism there might be for removing a candidate against his will. I suppose he might be tempted by a promise of immunity from prosecution, and make him sort of a remittance man like the Duke of Windsor. Barring that, Republicans should be released to run against him, with an eye to preserving the majority in the House and maybe the Senate – the latter would be tough this year in any event. Some careful thought needs to be given about how Trump managed this takeover. And not a small part of the task is that thoughtful conservatives must be willing to undertake the same “long march through the institutions,” especially the educational and entertainment systems, that the radicals of the ’60s undertook, and that has brought about shifts in American world-view. Long job.
‘Course, as I’ve said, I have the privilege of living in a one-party kleptocracy where my vote is of no importance or consequence. Depending on the polls, I might wander in to vote for poor Mark Kirk, who really is probably the best we can do here, and has the advantage of having an opponent who has a whiff of scandal to her. For the rest, in my precinct, it’ll be Eeyores all the way down.

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Washing Up

Before I scrub my hands and I hope imagination of this election – I think I shall immerse myself in British folktales for a while – I’m going to suggest that there’s no real difference between Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Trump. Both are Big Gov advocates, both cultivate cults of personality (“Only Hillary is qualified!” “Only I can solve our nation’s problems!”), neither has much if any regard for constitutional order or our natural liberties, and both are more or less perpetual liars. Oh, there are differences in style, but under the style lurks the same beast. Begone, both of you.

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Aftermath

#NeverHillary is a reasonable position. Her record and her tendencies are clear. Concern over the direction of American foreign policy in her administration is reasonable. Her contempt for Constitutional order would lead to further hypertrophy of the unconstitutional administrative state. Constitutionalists have reason to fear her possible court appointments, from the top to bottom.

#NeverTrump is also a reasonable position. His policies are terra incognita if not ignorantia, his character shoddy. His performances in the public eye during his campaign and during his long career as a celebrity give every reason to doubt his capacity to be president. I’ll say that a possible good bad thing about Trump is that he might usefully diminish the presidency. It’s a fundamental article among Constitutionalist that the American Presidency has become grandiose.

#NeverTrillary is also a reasonable, albeit luxurious, position. It’s going to be one or the other. The third and fourth choices are hopeless fantasies. I can take this position since there is at this time no possibility that Trump can challenge Clinton in Illinois. The Heffalumps disenfranchised me a long time ago.

Both major candidates appear to rely on a core of high emotion, low information voters, and I suspect this will make for an unpredictable, volatile election in which polling is unreliable. I suspect a large number of eligibles will not vote for either. Barring events, low turnout I think favors Clinton. If there is continuing racial violence, it may favor Trump, who, unlike Clinton, can portray himself as the law and order candidate. I suspect that Trump will never get his campaign together, and that local Republican organizations will back him half heartedly. They know that Trump doesn’t represent any actual Republican policies or beliefs.

I’m ready to go all #WalkerSasse2020.

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#NeverTrump, R.I.P.

It died in committee. Not  close. I’m guessing that the recent polls show that Trump isn’t toxic enough down ticket to panic the herd. Now what?

What do I know? I’m not paid to guess. So my guess as of now is historic low percentage of eligibles vote for president – Hillary wins, probably by focusing on the big electoral states. Although both candidates are heartily disliked, the Donks have a better record of turning out the vote. The Senate is a hard call – the balance of seats up for election favors the Donks anyway this year, but those same polls indicate a lot of likely ticket splitting. The Heffalumps will lose seats. Will they retain a thin majority? Can’t guess. I think the Heffs will retain the House. I have a hunch that a lot of the Heffs up for reelection this fall will be  running very quietly against Trump. When the dust settles, I guessing that Hillary will get under 40% of the eligible voter pool, and Trump marginally less. Some horrible event might change the outcome.

So on election day I’ll wobble in to not vote for Trillary (the alternatives are laugh worthy), not vote for Jan Schakowsky since she’ll be my rep until she dies, if she hasn’t already, against most of the downticket Donks in state office (on account of Mike Madigan, Grand Vizier (and you know what they’re like) of Illinois, and probably for poor Mark Kirk, though I suspect he’s doomed. His seat will be hard to reclaim once lost.

It’s an election to survive, I suppose, scary in a dangerous world. In four years, capable folks like Senators  Ben Sasse and Tom Cotton, Governors like Scott Walker, can mature and emerge. I have to admit that we Boomers have done a lousy job of governing. Let’s turn it over to some of the kids.

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USA, 2016

Thunderstorms-thunderstorm-24879713-500-333

Lightning and thunder roused me very early; I took advantage of the solitary time to consider a character, an entirely fictional character, who wandered in, made a cup of tea, and sat down to tell me her unlikely story.  Not too unlikely, possibly quite amusing, in some ways, at least. I’ll see what she has to say.  Then, contemplating our political circumstances, my gorge rose (as whose would not?) and I muttered to myself, “Coolidge, thou shouldst be living in this hour.” Upon consideration, we may need even stronger medicine, though “Washington” doesn’t fit the meter as well. Washington’s response to Trilllary might have been condign, swift, and permanent. But it’s worth repeating the original poem, for our recollection.

MILTON! thou shouldst be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
O raise us up, return to us again,
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power!
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart;
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
So didst thou travel on life’s common way,
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.

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A Diversion

If your stomach is sour with the antics of the two hairballs American democracy has coughed up, if you’re weary of the incursion of celebrity culture into every corner of life and the procession of horrors that constitutes the news, consider refreshing yourself with Powers and Blaylock’s On Pirates, which contains layer upon layer of joke, and a long example William Ashbless’s artfully atrocious poetry.  The Kindle edition is cheap, free even if you have one of the nifty Amazon credits.  It’s a cheap hour of diversion.

In a few days, Powers’ Down and Out in Purgatory will tumble into my mailbox.  I wonder if Ashbless, or Vilhelm Tuhka Siunta, or whatever he’s calling himself now, will make an appearance.

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Restoration

Sometimes, life hands you a confusion. It demands and insists, takes up most of your energy, pulls you away from other and important tasks. You look up and your half a dozen years older, other messes have crept in, and your garden is a desolation of weeds. And you realize that the crisis is, if not past, different, and it’s time to move ahead.

For a while, we employed “landscapers” who at least kept things sort of under control. I had always preferred to cut my own grass, and encouraged clover and such. I planted a lot of roses. The hired help did ok, until last year when some inconsidered pruning laid low an important but very Japanese maple, a rather well established dogwood “Golden Showers,” and did horrible and disfiguring things to a 25 year old rose, “Constance Spry.” I couldn’t keep them, and we decided to go back to cultivating our own garden.

The it’s a clement microclimate here, especially for weeds. This year’s efforts are going to be almost exclusively restoration: weeding, clearing, pruning, fertilizing, mulching. And planning. And saving to execute the plan. At the moment I’m filling a 30 gallon lawn recycling bag every day. It takes about half an hour. I think I’ll report (with photos) on progress every Monday.

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Nostalgia

One  of the pleasures of the warmth months is the outbreak of classic cars. They bloom with the roses, it seems. In the last few days I’ve seen an Avanti (original or repro, I couldn’t tell), a post-war MG Roadster, and an E Type. I’ve seen a few early 70s LeMans, but never my sentimental favorite.  tempest

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Brushwork

This one looks rather like a Turner.

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