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Friday, July 17, 2026

My enervating decade of The Donald

 
Closer to 11 years now, actually. He was ramping up his noises about running for President in 2015. Many people found the notion utterly absurd. I did not. 
 
In late 2015 I underwent 9 weeks of daily radiation therapy for treatment of prostate cancer. My rad tech folks and I joked that we should name my tumor "The Donald."
 
"So, what're we doin' today? Let's Nuke The Donald, shall we?"
 
In 2016 most people I knew still tended to blow Trump off. He was a gauche clown who didn't have a chance of winning the Presidency. Women in particular tended to be in the thrall of the prospect of Hillary smashing the Glass Ceiling. Her Sheet was compelling, particularly in contrast to the crude Donald Trump.
 
I was uneasy. I began voicing my concerns in April 2016 on another blog platform. Excerpt: 
Where’s the “Pre-Crimes Unit” when you need one?


Put aside the endless onslaught of reflexively arrogant, belligerent, and vulgar P.T. Barnum bombast. Forget the neurotic, tellingly insecure “The-Beautiful-Thing-About-Me-Is-I’m-REALLY-Rich” fixation, replete with gauche, ostentatiously cheesy gold-plated fixtures and escalators, and the “Finest Polished Marble.” Never mind the (made in China) monogrammed shirts and pastel silk ties, redolent of arriviste exhibitionist 60’s Manhattan throwback 4-Color Glossy tabloid “Style and Elegance.” Forget the creepy, objectifying, lecherous “Nice Tits,” “Down on Your Knees” sash, bikini, big hair, and spike heels misogyny. Forget that everyone who dares dispute Him is “A Loser,” “Weak,” “Stupid,” “A Moron,” “Disgusting,” “3rd-Rate,” “A Stiff,” “A Dope,” “A Low-Life” — someone to perhaps be the target of the latest 500 million dollar empty Trump lawsuit threat du jour.

Let pass the patently phony “I’m a Strong Evangelical” whose “favorite book” is “da BIBLE!” Forget the low-intellect Moths-To-The-Flame Totem comprising that stupidass Mexican Wall proposal. Forget the equally phony “I Have Many, Many Great Friends Here in ______________.” Forget the blindingly obvious time-worn boiler room grift M.O. of “Trump University®,” “Trump Network®,” “Trump Baja Ocean Resort®,” and “Trump Institute®.” Put aside that in the net worth ranking of world billionaires he’s a rounding error (Update: I’ve coined the hashtag “#BiglyFakeBillionaire”).

Forget his eye-rollingly fatuous “only rich people should be allowed to play golf.”

Forget that “maybe protestors should get roughed up.” “Maybe I’ll pay the [attackers’] legal expenses.”

Forget that “women must be punished” (well, uh, maybe not, at least until after Wisconsin).

Put aside all of that, along with the the rest of the maudlin, panoramic accruing expanse of its kindred lowbrow, cognitive-pollution Time Share Closer bullshit (see, btw, Harry Frankfurt’s instructive book “On Bullshit”).

Focus on, remember, and act against the truly important stuff.

Call them our Pre-Crimes Portents.

He’s dog-whistling war crimes. Without much subtlety, as is his style.

Our chronic domestic discord aside, in the face of a maddeningly complex, irredicibly dangerous, and all-too-requently corrupt world of international geopolitics comprised of ~7.4 billion contending people, Donald J. Trump proposes that we simply ignore or explicitly abrogate myriad inconvenient international obligations (akin to the way he has long viewed his multiple corporate bankruptcies as expedient “smart strategic defaults”); he would have us abandon NATO (an Inaugural Ball gift to Vladimir?). He would have us part company with Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states. He claims that 23% of humanity — Islam — “hates us” and should be banned from the U.S.

And — “wink, wink” — perhaps nuked.

Donald Trump would also apparently be OK with the Koreas and Japan all going nuclear. Were a war to break out, he simply says during a Rothschild, Wisconsin GOP primary rally “If it happens, it happens. Good luck. Enjoy yourselves.”...
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A PERSONAL NOTE: 
 
Shortly after Donald Trump's 1st term Jan 20th inaugural my younger daughter Danielle was diagnosed with terminal Stage IV metastatic pancreatic cancer. Unreal. The ensuing 13 months until she succumbed were pure hell. The Trump clown car follies certainly did not help matters.
_____ 
 
FAST FORWARD TO JANUARY 2021
 
Lordy, did I ever get this wrong (below).
 
 
And, so here we are in mid-July 2026.
 
 
COUPLE MORE READS ON TRUMP
 
 

I'm up to close to 2 dozen books on The Donald by now.

More in a bit...

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