~a column by Colleen O’Brien
What is the solution to bombardment by the U.S. Press and its repetitive boredom regarding their love affair with the illogic of a self-loving mediocrity? Quit repeating him, Press. He is not news, he is reruns. He is not interesting, he is a broken record. He is not informative, for he is ill-informed. He is not honest, he is a fibber, a cheater, a deceiver, a pathological liar. He is not well-spoken because he is a clumsy thinker.
More of us dislike him than like him: he recently won last place in a ranking of all our presidents since Washington.
Leave him to the yellow press that sucks up to him, including Fox whose motto “Fair and Balanced” is a lie in itself.
Every day in the New York Times he gets the most sensationalized part of the paper – front page above the fold – describing again his overdone rage. Does the newspaper that prints “all the news that’s fit to print” really believe he fulfills any part of their motto? It has to be that they are sure of the income they garner from us and our hidden curiosity of the Big Mouth.
If he weren’t covered beyond tedium by the press, I would think of him less often; maybe I would be able never to think of him. I’ve heard his Trumpisms and seen his angry face so consistently for the last eight (seems like 80) years that I am sure my brain is fried by the strain of it.
Trump is so far beyond news that for the Press to be so willing to reiterate whatever nonsense he spouts has made us distrust the Press as well as The Bombast himself.
The whining of Trump regarding everything that goes on in his life . . . has it been a decade, a century, an eon? His very existence is a pain of such magnitude he can’t quit harping on it. Cut him free to talk to his navel via his mirror. His 91 felony charges comprise the “disgraceful situation” he attributes to the American judicial system. His regurgitation of lies about the judges and DA’s and court peons are the “witch hunts.”
I realize that I’m one of them writing about him, telling myself that I have to inform the people. Well, we the people are over-informed. There is nothing new under the sun when it comes to him and his ilk. I got the message long ago and yet am willing to fool myself that he needs more talking about. What is it about him – is it the morbid draw to watch another deathly accident on the freeway? The secret titillation of being terrified? The human disorder of liking to make fun of others? The shallowness of my own life?
Well-known New York Times columnist Frank Bruni lamented in his column the day after Valentine’s that Trump has gone so far with his utterances that are untrue and repetitive, and the public is so tired, tired, tired of him they have lost their ability to describe his horribleness adequately; Bruni is afraid we’ve lost our words or used up all the accurate ones of evil that describe him.
I don’t think the problem is loss of words. I think I am mesmerized by his very unclear thinking. He knows his every move is watched, his every utterance transcribed; he rubs his hands together in delight at daily free press coverage of which he is the star attraction. We don’t know how to get out from under him because there is morbid fascination in the odd, the weird, the over-the-top gall of him.
I, myself, am like the Germans when they were under Nazi rule – they didn’t know how to get rid of their Big Mouth either.
