The Phone Call

On the one hand, I feel  a bit sorry  for Trump.   For weeks, people are carping about what a shitty  human being he is, interfering with aid efforts in Puerto Rico, golfing, not even noticing the wild  fires in  California,  golfing, being an arrogant  fat  prick, golfing, not bothering to acknowledge the deaths of four American soldiers who died in Niger, golfing,  saying Obama never called the families of dead soldiers, golfing, and then when he gives in and calls the families, people start complaining that he wasn’t ’empathetic’ enough,  as if  he’s expected to know  what a word like empathetic even means.  It  must seem to him  that  he can’t catch  a break.

I mean, all he said was “Well, he knew what he  was signing up for,” which is sort of like “he died doing what he loved.”  You just can’t please some people.

To tell the truth, I thought his low point was  when he  was  making fun of the handicapped reporter, but that didn’t keep him from  being elected president.  (of course, the Democrats helped in  that department.  “You’ll vote for me and  like it, basement  dwelling losers” makes a shitty campaign slogan, in  retrospect.)

After that, it’s all been just floundering around oafishly, saying one asshole thing after another, but everyone is so  used to it by now it  seems normal.  I mean, nobody expected him to recite poetry or anything.


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