Cage Match
Trump Derangement Syndrome vs. Trump Deflection Syndrome
With only 14 days to go until The Most Important Election Of Our Lifetime ®, I hate to make a column all about me, taking the focus off The Burning Issues the American people so studiously obsess over. Issues that cut to the very essence of our American Experiment, that pose questions such as: Which candidate is more convincing as a McDonald’s drive-thru attendant, now that McDonald Trump has finally done an honest hour’s worth of work? Or what is Trump trying to tell us by his campaign playlist being suspiciously dominated by gay anthems? (The Village People, Andrew Lloyd Webber showtunes, etc. Should Melania be worried?) And exactly how big is Arnold Palmer’s tallywhacker? Or was, I should say. It’s probably lost an inch or two since decomposition set in after Palmer’s 2016 demise. (RIP, Arnie and friend.)
Yes, we have reached Peak Idiocracy. In fact, at this late date, we’re probably past peak. Which brings me to my favorite essaying subject: myself. (Write what you know, they say.) I was having an email battle with a Trumpster “friend” the other day, an activity I’ve unfortunately engaged in with alarming frequency since 2015. It was about our 829th or so dust-up. And I like to think my fight record against him is 829-0. (Though as he’d probably cast it, that could be my fake-news RINO cuckery talking.) I say this not because I’m some super-skilled debater – I’m not the Daniel Webster of Yahoo! Mail or anything. But just because he inflicts arguments upon me when the facts are nearly never on his side. Defending Donald Trump after he suggests ditching the Constitution, threatens to lock up his critics, or refuses to acknowledge that he lost an election that even his toadying Vice President and Attorney General admitted was a resounding defeat (even as he’s been called “Hitler” and worse by his current running mate) – well, it’s kind of like defending flat-earth theory. Which, come to think of it, studies show that more flat-earthers than not also approve of Trump. (Once you start suspending belief in objective reality, it can be difficult to break the habit.)
But then, my frenemy did it. He uncorked The Argument Ender, as Trumpsters like to think of it. He accused me of having TDS. (“Trump Derangement Syndrome,” for the non-online inclined.) It’s a sad, hoary little cliché that provides the illusion to quarrelsome Trumpsters that they’ve settled an argument that they’ve already lost.