Welcome to Trumpworld, where unwilling Rockettes are forced to high kick in short skirts for the president’s pleasure while a creepy band of accused domestic abusers looks on and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings solemn hymns in the background. Over in the VIP tent, a crew of gleaming Wall Street bankers and corporate raiders do Veuve Clicquot toasts to their plans to sell Yellowstone Park to capped-teeth mining magnates while finally freeing themselves from “social insurance and healthcare for the poor.”
The casting call at Trump Tower will deliver a kakistocratic tour de force for our four-year reality show, including a vague send-up of J.R. Ewing at Foggy Bottom, the ghost of George Wallace gleefully ripping up copies of the Voting Rights Act at Justice, a pretty brown lady at the UN, a black guy doing “urban housing” and a paranoid Colonel Klink knock-off phoning Moscow to dish the latest conspiracy theories from the National Security desk in the West Wing. Let’s not forget the rumpled white nationalist gurgling in the president’s ear about never forgetting Euro-Christian civilization and our white-haired national preacher V.P. tut-tutting working women to embrace motherhood and let the men do the jobbing as his friends in Congress place their birth control on the high shelf. Meanwhile, the First Lady will be silently glimmering on the cover of Women’s Wear Daily, while the president’s wife shuts down Saks Fifth Avenue in New York for a jaunty day of dress shopping, and her lawyers sue “unhelpful” bloggers into the dust.
The president’s sons will be there too; muscling D.C. maître-d’s for the best tables and perhaps forming 501c3s with their college buddies to extract “charitable donations” from the magnates—foreign and domestic—who’ll want to get next to dear old dad. If the “mainstream media” catches on, they’ll just shut down one “charity” and start another. After all, up-sell, fail and move on to the next mark is how The Boss did it with the banks that lent to him over the years.
The money should start rolling in properly by January, as bookings at the family hotels around the globe go from nothing to breathtaking, once foreign diplos get the message. And if any bad guys threaten the new American Brand Name, no worries: the commander in chief can simply deploy the U.S.A.’s military finest to guard the Trump luxury properties with their lives.
The old hotness, Europe, will fade fast. The new hotness, Russia, will be our new, nuclear family. Together, we’ll fight the Godless and God-alternative; the secular, bleeding heart liberal Europeans with their weakness for “refugees,” the Muslims, Arab and Persian alike, and The Boss’ arch-nemeses, the Chinese.
For the heartland: there may not be millions of new manufacturing jobs, but there will be spectacle: Screaming Mexican women and children dragged off by the border patrol! … Mosques infiltrated and raided like an overnight house party! … Good Christian justices of the peace turn away gay couples; offer free sessions to pray their way to hetero bliss instead! … And Black Lives Matter protests crushed by armor-clad hero cops joined by their brothers in federal law enforcement! … Pretty soon, they’ll all get the message of law and order. They’ll shut up. And if they show up to vote, they’ll find their polling places closed or moved; their names erased from the rolls, and little choice but to go home. Even if they manage to win a few races here and there, the GOP’s state house enforcers will just strip those “winners” of their power. North Carolina’s brazen Republican partisans have already shown us the way.
And not to worry—Congress won’t do a damned thing about it. They know what’ll happen if they try: one tweet from The Boss and the frog bros will come for the Republicans. Besides, they’re getting what they want: tax cuts for their rich funders who may soon get a crack at gambling the Social Security trust fund for obscene profits, and maybe even drug tests for their meddlesome poor. No more squishy “healthy school lunch programs” and climate change scaremongering. That’s all over with. The Boss will find out who in government has been pushing that anti-capitalist “science” and purge them. The Dems are already too scared, scattered and broken to fight back, so they won’t be a problem either. They’ll be coopted or crushed. Democracy is just a word anyway. What really counts is power.
See, in the Trump World Order, it’s all about “respect.” As Omarosa said: the endgame is, everybody bows down. Everybody. Well maybe not those Hollywood and music “stars.” They don’t seem to get it. But if “the arts” won’t get with the program, so what? Maybe they’ll find no “national endowments” anymore; maybe their performances will be raided and shut down. Maybe they’ll get to know the IRS. “Real” filmmakers will turn out product that lionizes The Boss and lauds the Newly Improved State. And the people will love it. They’d better. Meanwhile, the Trumps will party with their real friends: no, not you, little people – the hedge funders and Wall Streeters who really make America great, by selling it to the highest bidder. Oh, and that “infrastructure plan?” That’s The Boss’ trillion-dollar gift to his billionaire developer friends for stuff they’re building anyway.
You’re welcome, America. And Merry Trumpmas.