Trump the Martyr

Trump.

We’re not done with this reprobate yet. Nor his evil brood. For the foreseeable future, Donald Trump will remain the cult leader of about one in five Americans, and as such will retain enormous influence and power. The Trump Royal Family will appear on talk shows, write books, keynote “freedom rallies”, highlight county fairs, and just generally market the Trump Brand for money and for influence. And soon enough, one or more will run for public office, and win. How soon we forget.

“They’d be too ashamed of themselves to do any of that,” you might say. No, these people have no shame. Third and fourth generation grifters, they couldn’t make an honest dollar if their lives depended on it. Fortunately for them, they won’t need to. The American Dream has always had lots of room for snake oil, Barnum & Bailey, Hollywood, and prosperity televangelists. “When You Wish Upon a Star” is the third national anthem of the USA. The Trump clan will do just fine.

Voting Trump out of office was like putting a bandaid on syphilis. The disease runs in America’s blood. Here’s the reality: 46.9% of the population, knowing exactly who the man is, voted for him rather than for a seasoned public servant who exudes decency, self-control, and wisdom. Forty-six point nine per cent, of whom something more than half are decent, God-fearing, hard-working, and generally level-headed (except for their willingness to whore out their traditional principles in exchange for legal favours). The rest are total jackasses. They’re the really scary ones, and some of them showed up on January 6. (Not counting the ones disguised in suits inside Congress.)

The horned, half-naked bad-tattoo victim was a jackass. The uncouth slob with his boots on Nancy Pelosi’s desk was a jackass. So too was the one who tried to walk off with the Speaker’s lectern. With their bizarre mix of symbolism, from Jesus Saves placards to the Stars and Bars to a gallows, they displayed jackassism at its unfocused best (or worst, depending on your viewpoint).

Fortunately, they brought to bear the level of careful planning and military rigor that you’d expect of jackasses. The November 6 invasion of Congress was a fuster-cluck, a jackass eruption, equal parts gong show, cosplay convention and prison riot.

But remember this: not every jackass in America was in Washington on January 6, and probably not the brighter ones. There are millions more of them out there, spewing utter nonsense– flat earthers, UFO fans, devotees of fantasy entities (including Q and the Kraken), NRA hardliners, snake handlers, climate-change deniers– these are the people who took to MAGA like flies to an outhouse. No rationality, no sense of fair play, just adrenalin, testosterone, unruliness, and belligerence. Yee-haw!

Here’s the secret to Trump’s hope for ongoing influence and power: to this writhing mass of thought-free malcontents, Trump has become a god, who, having been crucified by the Democrats, Antifa, and the RINOs, will rise from the political grave to lead his people and Make America Great Again.

If the Confederate Battle Flag can be proudly unfurled in Congress one hundred and fifty-five years after Appomattox, don’t expect MAGA to go away anytime soon. The martyrdom of St. Donald will see to that.