Tuesday, August 23, 2016
August 24, 2016
Participants: Kellyanne Conway, Steve Bannon, Donald Trump
CONWAY: Steve has prepared the storyboards & mockups for the "softening." Can we bring them in please?
Aide enters with multiple storyboards & signs, placing the first on an easel.
It depicts a crude stereotype of a Mexican male, wearing sombrero, & holding a handball raquet, standing & smiling before a giant wall. Beneath reads the caption: "HANDBALL IS FUN!"
CONWAY: There are many purposes to a wall, & we certainly don't want to hurt people. This points out the advantages to Mexico--at their own expense, of course, Mr. Trump--to their exercise, their leisure, their health.
TRUMP: I thought we weren't mentioning "health" this week, after the Bornstein letter.
CONWAY: Yes, but this is for their health, it's part of the "softening," Mr. Trump. Next card.
Depicts a similarly crude caricature of an African American man, clad in rags, wearing a "Make America Great Again" cap, looking up to a smiling, benevolent, Rockwellesque Trump, who is handing him the lease to a 1-room apartment. Beneath is the caption "NOTHIN' TO LOSE!"
BANNON: This should appeal to the core demographic, according to Breitbart polling.
TRUMP: Yes, but erase any of the language on the lease. I don't want any "trouble" (Trump makes air quotes) like we had with Trump Village.
CONWAY: The third, Mr. Trump, we're most proud of.
Aide rests card on easel. It depicts a long road across the U.S. Smiling guards in uniform stand closely by, as families, children, grandparents walk the path --all towards Mexico. Above, in vibrant gold letters, the caption: "THE ASSISTED BIRTHRIGHT JOURNEY."
CONWAY: The idea here is that it os their right...their duty...their...obligation to return.
We are simply...helping them on this mandatory...that is, essential return to their homeland.
TRUMP: Too much softening, Kelly. Rapists. Criminals! What if they refuse?
CONWAY: (pause) TBD.
Sunday, August 21, 2016
November 7, 2016
The crowd inside Trump Headquarters appeared disconsolate as their candidate had lost the election by 11 points to Hillary Clinton.
Still, they awaited a speech from their leader. A concession, yes, but also a degree of consolation, of inspiration for days to come.
Finally, at 1 am, Trump emerged. His orange hair strayed wildly, as if pulled in anxiety, as he ran onto the platform.
He threw himself to the platform, rolling inconsolably. The crowd watched uncomfortably.
Trump leapt up & raced to the three huge screens behind the podium. “How? How can this be?” he shouted at them. “ I am the only one who can do this!” Sweat dripped through his thick orange makeup as he grasped his tie, &, with a single tug at the frailly-woven Malaysian knot, pulled it off & threw it to the ground.
The jacket. Struggling to remove it from his bulging midsection, he pulled it off, one arm, then the other, & cast it with rage to the floor. Tearing at his shirt, without removing the buttons, & finally, 1 by 1, they popped, flying into the crowd as he threw the tanner-streaked garment bitterly to one side. He removed each shoe–in wild fury, yet taking care to avoid his severe congenital floating bone spurs, & slammed them to the podium.
Standing, in gold thong & socks, he then pleaded with media in the back of the room, in their cage, as if they could somehow, beyond government, beyond the Constitution, beyond the separation of powers, beyond reality: “Rematch! I demand a rematch!”
The 4 remaining credentialed media stared back silently. Despite all the power he had attributed to them, all the gauntlets he had thrown before them–there was nothing they could do.
Campaign officials approached, as Trump rolled to the floor, sobbing. He would not leave.
Finally, members of Trump’s trainee Deportation Force arose from the audience, & led him away, still sobbing, a trail of orange behind him, that grew thinner, & thinner, & finally disappeared as he left the stage.
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
September 4th, 2016
We see a stage with podium.
Reince Preibus enters. He is wheeling Trump in a rolling “Silence of the Lambs” upright steel stretcher with face cage.
Priebus rolls the cage behind the podium, positions microphone beside Trump’s mouth, and exits.
TRUMP: We are here today to discuss a major topic, a very important topic, our American crime & legal policy.
There are simply too many judges in the United States. Why do we need so many? We have at least 1000 members in the Congress–5000, 10,000, & we have pageant judges, Judge Joe Brown, a very good friend, we bring him to Mar-a-lago once a year, Sheriff Arparo, basically a judge…Why do we need more?
Criminals roam our streets. Yet our legal system wastes resources on such trivial issues as bankrupcies, fraud, divorce settlements, fair housing accommodations (voice begins to rise). Enough of these disgusting, terrible suits, the work of Mexicans! Mexican judges tunneling under the Supreme Court! Sending coded messages through the television! I’ve heard it! (He is shouting)
(Priebus enters with syringe. Waves awkwardly to crowd. Injects Trump in arm through roll cage. Trump becomes more slack, relaxed and continues):
Drug policy. We must be able to keep drugs off the streets, & in the higher-end clubs & red state meth labs, where they belong. Also, some casino use is ok, if it boosts play rate.
Guns, must be kept out of the hands of criminals, & in the hands of patriots. That is why I am announcing today a new policy that I call “Extreme Protection: Vote Right, Shoot Right.”
Each voter who states that they have voted for Trump will be awarded a free gun. Right at the polls. Protect themselves from Crooked Hillary supporters immediately.
This plan will make (speech begins to slur) a safer America...better...America...Muslims...no, Mom, don't want to go to Military School...
Monday, August 15, 2016
Trump Extreme Ideological Test:
National Airport, March, 2017:
Foreigner arrives. Trump Ideological Examiner (TIE, with a merchandising tie-in to Trump Ties, made in Bangladesh) looks at paper, speaks:
TIE: Okay. Okay. Stand on one foot.
FOREIGNER: Foooot? You say…
T: (More harshly, forcefully) Stand on one foot!
F:: Which…foooot? (points to legs).
T: (looking at paper). Hmmm. Paper doesn’t say…umm…Left foot! (smiles. Says to self:). Must be right.
F stands on left foot, shakily.
T: (Looking at paper) Now, close left eye and listen carefully:
“John and Mary are both visiting a casino. Each one plays five games of Baccarat…”
F: (confused, wobbling): Bac..a…rot?
T: (reading quickly, irritably) Baccarat, then they lay down, because, believe me, that’s always good, then they get up, go back to the casino, play slots, eat a delicious Trump steak, then salute, and sing the Star Spangled Banner. Which one finishes first?
F: You…have steak?
T: Wrong! The man! The man! The man always finshes first! (Shakes head in frustration).
Foreigner lookes confusedly ashamed.
T: Two! Which of our U.S. Presidents was not born in the United States?
T: (narrows eyes, speaking with suspicion): Come on…you know this…which one…
F: Washington city?
T: Wrong! (Checks box on paper). One more.
From behind industrial grey curtain, T removes three cardboard figures. He places them on the Security podium, and then awkwardly shuffles their order, as if in a shell game. They are: A Judge, clad in robes, with the word “bankruptcy!” in a bubble emerging from his mouth; A picture of the New York Times building; and a photograph of the stage at the 2012 White House Correspondents Dinner.
T: Which of these is worse? Worse, do you understand?
F (imploringly, confused): Worse…bad? Not good?
T: Yes, not good! Bad! Point to it! (T points to immigrants right index finger then to displays)
F: (slowly, clearly confused. Points to Times). This?
T: No! All bad! All bad. (refers to paper, reads statement quickly, pro forma): According to the Trump Ideological Examination, which many people have said is the best, most important test ever in the nation, the world, you have failed the test for ideological smartness, and therefore cannot be permitted to enter the country. Go back home to your mother! You’re expelled!
Trump has proposed an "Ideological" test for allowing Muslims into the country.
A bizarre, impossible, totalitarian standard and approach.
Watching the speech now.
He appears medicated. Likely a mild benzodiazapine.
Probably seen, and ultimately persuaded, as the only way to calm him down.
In the host of symptoms that cloud Trump's behavior, not enough attention has been given to his anxiety, and depression--both which accompany Narcissistic Personality Disorder.
NPD is a disorder of vulnerability; of an incomplete self. Hence, the shield of bravado developed to mask the fear of discovery. Trump is an extreme example of this.
Trump is beset each moment by the fear that complete dominance, bravado, power, and control will not be portrayed. That anxiety is more visible today--beset as he has been by the self-induced
destruction that his campaign has undergone.
Still wishing to respond to the anxiety with aggression, with assertion, it appears that a light anti-anxiety med--probably Xanax, .5; has been used to prevent the characteristic cycling up into rage that is the fundamental Trump. The indications are quite evident.
That this is necessary, simply to give a speech that is not a fit of uncontrolled umbrage and grandisoity is, of course, only one of the many reasons why what is needed is a "long vacation."
And never, never, to hold public office.
Breaking from the New York Times this morning:
Secret Ledger in Ukraine Lists Cash for Donald Trump’s Campaign Chief
Handwritten ledgers show $12.7 million in undisclosed cash payments designated for Mr. Manafort from Mr. Yanukovych’s pro-Russian political party from 2007 to 2012, according to Ukraine’s newly formed National Anti-Corruption Bureau. Investigators assert that the disbursements were part of an illegal off-the-books system whose recipients also included election officials.
In addition, criminal prosecutors are investigating a group of offshore shell companies that helped members of Mr. Yanukovych’s inner circle finance their lavish lifestyles, including a palatial presidential residence with a private zoo, golf course and tennis court. Among the hundreds of murky transactions these companies engaged in was an $18 million deal to sell Ukrainian cable television assets to a partnership put together by Mr. Manafort and a Russian oligarch, Oleg Deripaska, a close ally of President Vladimir V. Putin.
When combined with:
-The changes on Ukraine that Manafort demanded in the RNC platform, and;
-The remarkable, repeated and consummate efforts by Trump to encourage and collaborate with Putin--to the point of inviting Putin to hack his opponent;
It is fundamentally and completely disqualifying.
The typical Trumpian levels of exploitation, coercion, and graft have already begun--before even holding office.
Trump must not and cannot ever be President of the United States.
Sunday, August 14, 2016
Trump, exhausted by attempts to manufacture new distortions, exaggerations, fabrications, falsifications, untruths, accusations, innuendos, put-downs, insinuations and incitements, falls into a dreamless sleep.
He awakens. Joseph is beside him.
"You're trying too hard," says Joseph, laying a hand on Trump's shoulder. "You have to let the tone of insinuation, of implication rouse the thirst for hatred; let the crowd do most of the work."
Trump leans forward, frustrated & discouraged. "I'm trying, but when they react, I can't resist, I have to get more. It feels like...winning."
Joseph shakes his head, smiling. "But you're not winning, are you? You're here."
Trump looks up at him: "You mean..."
Joseph looks back with smile that contains a rapturous, gleefully sadistic intensity of confirmation.
Trump looks down. "The bottom."
Joseph's smile grows into a mocking leer. "We've all been here, Donald. All of us who decided to engage in...this business." He lifted a clubbed foot to a nearby stone, & crossed his arms, leaning back with the self-assurance of rueful past knowledge.
"First we are amazed that they respond to the obvious instigation, to the barefaced provocation.
"Then," he raises a hand, "we begin to become intoxicated, contemptuous. We expect the response.
We hate them more and more for being foolish enough to give it, yet we still desperately want it, to know that they are still within our grasp, our authority, our command."
He laughs. "Soon, they rule us. We become angry if they don't seem to believe our own lies, & in our anger, we convince ourself that they're actually true."
He looks at Trump with a piercing glare, eyes alight. "That's when the fall begins."
Trump, bent over, hands clasped, looks up. "So, what do I do?"
Joseph responds with a grin of brutal mock lament: "Do? There is nothing to do. There is only this:
Stoke the crowds.
Repeat your stories of past glories.
Enjoy the fall."
Saturday, August 13, 2016
(explosions from grass behind South Lawn)
Aide enters breathlessly. He is awkwardly carrying: the Modified Presidential Daily Brief, reduced to a series of Twitter-length passages embossed in Austrian crystal on a Javan Rhinoceros leather-bound gold tablet; a copy of "North Korean Escort Quarterly;" a large, black, reinforced fabric skirt, as if to cover some large craft; & a canister of Wet Ones.
AIDE: I've brought the cover for the Sports Car/Hovercraft, sir.
TRUMP: Good, good. Melania doesn't like to get her gown dirty from the...disruption outside.
(He reaches for the Quarterly)
AIDE: Did...you want to review the...brief, Mr. President?
TRUMP (After a long silent stare during which a missile can be heard streaking above the Oval): Brilliant. Just brilliant. I have a video conference with Kim in the Situation Room to review the G12 Model Summit at noon & I...(irritated) Alright, just give to me (Aide moves to hand him PDB).
Not yet! (Aide abashedly opens Wet Ones, wipes down PDB, hands to Trump). Good. Leave those here. And fire yourself on the way out. (Aide exits).
Desk intercom--all buttons shaped in Trump royal crest--lights. He polishes button with remainder of Wet One, throws away, & pushes.
TRUMP: Chris? What?
Chris Christie, stationed at secretaries desk outside Oval, responds.
CHRISTIE: Mr. Putin for you on the secure line, sir.
TRUMP: That's Mr. President, Chris. Mr. President.. Remember.
CHRISTIE (crestfallen) Yes, Mr. President.
Shoulder fired rocket explodes in Rose Garden.
TRUMP: Vlad! Yes, I got the Prince of Novgorod mirror, I'm looking at it now. I would have preferred a Stalin...Check? I told Treasury Secretary Nell-Hughes to send it...I know, but think of how the Ruble has increased to the dollar. (Anti-personnel mine detonates by Trump-installed "Winning Arch.") Noise? No, that's just Trump Force One, the new gold-plated engines. Loud!
Thursday, August 11, 2016
ONE MONTH LATER:
QUICK: So, Mr. Trump, if I understand you correctly, you're saying that President Obama is responsible for the Lincoln Assassination.
TRUMP: Many people have said that, yes. And crooked Hillary Clinton. You know...how they say in baseball, a Double Hitter? They were the Double Hitter of the Lincoln Assassination.
QUICK: Mr. Trump, the Lincoln Assassination took place in 1865. How would it even be possible for either of them to have been involved?
TRUMP: I've sent teams...teams...back to look for this. They are saying amazing things, amazing things, that they've found. Incredible things.
QUICK: How would it even be possible...
TRUMP (Interrupting irritably): Look. Believe me. I have seen this. Unbelievable evidence. Just unbelievable. A disaster. One of the great catastrophes of all time. Horrible. Terrible. Disgusting. (Wipes hands on pants).
QUICK: But John Wilkes Booth was proven...how...
TRUMP: How? They walk in. They walk into the booth, or the veranda, or whatever they call it, boom. It's done. I've seen it. They committed this. They invented this.
QUICK (Shaking head): So you blame...
TRUMP: There's only one person to blame. Obama. And Hillary. I just know that they did this, they got us into a mess the likes of which this country has never seen, walked in, forty-five degree angle, went into Henry Ford Theater, wherever, and boom, finished, done. Obama and Hillary. Crooked Hillary! And I promise that my first act as President will be to rescind the assassination, rescind it entirely, even if I have to use Article Seventeen of the Constitution, I'll do it. I'm the only one who can do it. And I'll get it done.
QUICK (Pauses): We'll be right back.
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
Imagine that you are running for President of the United States.
You are giving a speech. You realize that your words will not only impact yourself, but the millions of followers who are listening to that speech.
Will you make a statement that--even as a supposed "joke," even "accidentally"--can be interpreted as a suggestion that, should your opponent win, that she should be assassinated?
Now, let's look at Trump:
Time and time again, he has made suggestions--that his judge in his Trump U. lawsuit is a Mexican racist; that his opponent in the primaries had a father with an association to Presidential assassin Lee Harvey Oswald; that opponents in his crowds should be physically attacked--these and countless more.
All with the same technique:
Imply the slur or violent action, and then deny responsibility--attributing it to the "many" unnamed "people who say," that he "has heard that this should occur" from others, and so on.
He has done this again--this time, in true nihilistic fashion, with regard to the most extreme form of political violence.
This tactic, in a casino contract negotiation, may leave the opposing party with a broken contract--as indeed it has, throughout Trump's volatile and ultimately failing career in that area.
In the world of Presidential politics, it instructs your most extreme followers as to how they should act--and threatens your opponent with the very worst of politics, one that is so repugnant as to be disqualifying in a Democratic Republic:
Threatening, should they win, their very lives.
Monday, August 08, 2016
Speech, run through Trump Interpretation Device:
-This is a speech where I am struggling to portray myself as serious, following a series of slurs, gaffes, improprieties, indiscretions, solecisms, indecorums, howlers, accusations, innuendos, put-downs, smears, affronts, assaults, animadversions, aspersions, backbiting, deceptions, disinformation, distortions, evasions, full-out fabrications, falsehoods, fictions, and misrepresentations unequaled in modern American campaign history;
- I am reading this in the manner of an Eighth grade book report, interspersed with "totally"s and "believe it"s for authenticity;
-My face is turning increasingly red as I attempt not to shout, contrasting conspicuously with my preternatural shade of orange;
-Every word of what I am saying--every word, believe me--is subject to immediate, moment-to-moment change, as demonstrated by my thirty year history of:
-Breaking contracts with workers, craftsmen, construction companies, lenders, and ex-wives;
-Denying statements, commitments, and supposedly unbreakable oaths that I have made only moments before;
-Stating that "reasonable deceit" is a fundamental principle of dealing with others;
-Leaving a trail of broken promises to laborers, casinos, condominium buyers, government officials, and the U.S. public long enough to exceed the Great Wall of China--which I promise to replace with the largest, most impressive casino ever, and which will fail.
-None of this matters, as my ultimate goal, a nihilistic self-destruction similar to Charles Foster Kane's grasping despair over his Rosebud, is not known even to myself.
Tuesday, August 02, 2016
Trump acted as only he could when presented with a Purple Heart:
1) His first actual stated response was "Is it real?"--thinking:
-Immediately of whether he could use it against the Khan controversy, and fearful that he would then become embroiled in another controversy;
-Instinctively of its value, rather than its meaning;
-Showing, as always, his reflexive distrust of the people--those who he claims to serve, but is actually simply using, in 30-year fashion, as a prop towards his own narcissistic satisfaction;
2) His second actual stated response was: "I always wanted one of those."
-Thinking immediately of himself. Of having another object. Not of what this sacrifice signified to this veteran--of wounds in battle, which are only experienced at the New York Military Academy when one accidently jabs oneself with a pencil.
-Thinking immediately of what he wanted--as if this was a royal gift, bestowed by a subject, to add to his gilded collection--again, utterly devoid of human meaning, sacrifice, devotion, commitment. Just his own having.
3) His last stated response was: "I didn't think that it would be so easy."
As always, the Donald, celebrating his own cleverness. The actual veterans were wounded in battle, but he, clever Donald, had a "floating bone spur." His gloating over such moments is characterological, axiomatic and automatic.
No Veteran should vote for this man.
He is using you--as he did with the "donations" to evade a troublesome debate that he then never contributed.
He believes that he is better than you.
He holds you in contempt for not being clever enough to avoid your service.
Hold your self-respect for yourself and your brothers.
Never vote for this weak, evading, obviously manipulative, narcissistic man.
Don't be used.
Monday, August 01, 2016
Trump is a condominium developer and failed casino owner whose ventures have been largely supported financially by his father, Fred.
His career--and his 70 years on Earth--have been largely defined by:
He has absolutely no experience in foreign or domestic policy, in governance or even grade school civics, and no knowledge of the basic tasks of governance, diplomacy, legislation or the separation of powers.
-Is narcissistic to the point of grandiose delusions;
-Responds to the slightest criticism with uncontrolled rage;
-Regards the press as a personal publicist with no understanding of their role in a democracy,
-Is fundamentally defined by a millisecond-to-millisecond, all-consuming, compulsive hunger for conflict and for praise.
He should stay home in his Tower that, without his father's line of credit, he would have been totally unable to build.
He should never.
Be President of the United States.
Sunday, July 31, 2016
Friday, July 29, 2016
-Trump's speech was a single, thin-skinned, sour, bitter boiled potato, hastily served on an undistinguished restaurant supply plate made at lowest cost in Bangladesh. The potato wobbles unsteadily on the plate as it is recklessly slammed on the table before you.
-The restaurant is a lonely diner dolled up with neon signs that have been long untended, the lights of letters blinking or completely out. It is nearly empty.
-Your waiter is Scott Baio.
-Clinton's speech was a rich beef stew, not a fancy ratatouille, but remarkable for the amount of careful planned work in cutting the vegetables just right, in their intelligent, well-planned choice, comprehensiveness, and balance, all you need to have an excellent meal, prepared with experience and care.
-It is served in an exceptionally well-planned, well-designed restaurant filled with people who come regularly as they enjoy its quality, extremely diverse and well-prepared menu, and consistency over the years.
-Your waitress is Katy Perry, and she sings to herself with happiness as she walks away from the table after delivering your food--she is content, and will be for a long while.
Tuesday, July 26, 2016
Michelle's speech was powerful and moving, rousing the crowd and bringing them to their feet and to tears of recognition of the important task before us.
She has always been an extraordinary speaker, moving people to action from those early days in the cold small rooms of Iowa, and shone like a light of human truth last night.
It was a unified, electrified, moved, inspired crowd brought to their best by her words, authenticity, passion, and true caring for our national human fate--one that we cannot leave in the hands of a reckless, destructive, narcissistic gambler.