You don’t need a degree in psychoanalysis to figure out that Donald Trump defines himself by his adversaries.
The media. His staff. His family. His Cabinet. The intelligence community. College graduates. Democrats. Other Republicans. Mexicans. Muslims. Women. Muslim women. Mexican Muslims. Women who are Mexicanish. The rest of the world.
But his worst enemy is not any of these obvious targets. It’s not Godzilla, King of the Monsters or Chris Christie. The winner is, drum roll please… himself! That’s right. The POTUS’ biggest and baddest foe is the man in the mirror. Donald John Trump. Or one of the pseudonyms he’s used: John Miller. John Barron. David Dennison. Melania’s first husband.
Our 45th president claims to be a stable genius but his major talent is getting in the way of his own agenda. The man is congenitally unable to keep from stepping in so many pools of effluvium that he leaves a trail of stink that would knock a flock of buzzards off a line of porta-potties on the last day of Coachella. He shoots himself in the foot so often, his nickname should be Stumpy.
Instead of embarking on a victory tour to celebrate arranging an upcoming tete a tete with Kim Jong Un, arguably precipitating detente between North and South Koreas, and averting a possible nuclear showdown, he once again conspired to distract folks from the happy to focus on the sad. He’s become so adept at that misdirection thing, he is unable to turn it off. The boy can’t help it.
Recently, the former New York City real estate developer went on Fox News’ morning show and had a meltdown the size of a glacier hosting an active lava flow. His performance gave train wrecks a bad name. It got to where the loyal sycophants at Rupert Murdoch’s propaganda machine were forced to cut him off mid-rant. “We know you’re busy.” Worried he was digging his own grave they snatched away the shovel.
One of his frenzied tirades claimed Michael Cohen hardly represented him at all. “A tiny, tiny little fraction” of his legal work but was involved in “this crazy Stormy Daniels deal.” Which sort of destroys the defense his other lawyers (with a larger fraction of his business) had been preparing.
Then he insisted the payoff money didn’t come from campaign funds. Even though he earlier had denied any relationship with the porn star and claimed to have no knowledge of the money. The legal consequences may be more complicated than assembling an Ikea bookcase using water-soluble twist-ties in place of screws.
This penchant for playing Solo Demolition Derby is convincing the rest of the GOP to get the hell out; 39 Republican congresspersons have already decided the only running they’ll be doing this November is for the hills. And even then, many worry about being arrested for leaving the scene of an accident.
The man suffers from such a tertiary case of Foot in Mouth disease he probably saves time by flossing with his shoelaces. Trips over chalk lines painted on the floor. Provide enough rope and this guy will hang not just himself, but everyone around him as well. Plank by plank, he’s building his gallows high and wide enough to accommodate an entire political party.
Will Durst is an award-winning, nationally acclaimed columnist, comic and former sod farmer in New Berlin, Wisconsin.
