I wonder if anyone else is as tired as I am of Donald Trump incessantly braying at them from their TV sets. Even as I type this, he’s bellowing about something or other from the far corner of the room, and it grates: does anyone really like listening to this jerk?
But it doesn’t matter what he called it, then or now, because most people suspect they know it for what it really was: a ruse and a sham, an elaborate hoax meant only to drum up publicity for Trump’s reality TV show. He accomplished this goal primarily by breathing new life into the brainless “birther” conspiracy theory, and once that was done The Donald put his “campaign” to sleep and strolled away chortling to himself. To make matters even more ridiculous, several members (though not all) of the Confederacy of Clowns known as the GOP primary slate have made the journey to Trump Tower, kneepads securely in place, to beg Trump and the weasel that dwells on his head for their endorsements. This might explain why the media unfathomably continues to consult Trump as though he were a serious pundit rather than the political equivalent of a carnival barker.
It’s becoming depressingly clear that if anyone other than Ron Paul wins the nomination, for the next 12 months observers of US politics will witness a sideshow of unparalleled sleaze that rapidly spirals into madness, with the bellicose Trump and his equally aggressive Hair giving a feverish play-by-play punctuated by mindless screams of “Where’s the birth certificate!??”.
Can the Apocalypse be far behind?