Donald and the Skunk
The Great Orange One has just handed us another lesson in leadership.
No, not Trump’s leadership, but that of Denmark, the other Nordic countries, Europe, Canada, and several other key players. They taught us again a lesson, one which I used to call “the Skunk Gambit” which I would explain to clients all worked up about some grave injustice. It goes like this:
It’s a lovely summer evening and you get home just before dark. As you walk up to the house, you realize to your horror that the front door had been left open and the lights on. And as you are about to enter, you get a whiff. Just a faint whiff, but unmistakable. And there, curled up on your Persian carpet, is a happy skunk, who wakes up and smiles at you.
So, you have several options. Of them all, the most initially satisfying is to fetch a shovel from the garage and beat the bejeebers out of the little rascal. That will definitely teach him the lesson he so justly deserves, and he’ll never bother you again. Yup, that would work!
My incandescent client would calm down a little, understand the point, and admit that wouldn’t be their best option. Then I’d ask them what they might do. After a moment’s reflection, it might be to call pest control, but the majority would say something like, “Well, I suppose with skunks being night creatures, and there’s not much for him to eat in the house, maybe if we opened the back door onto the yard, left the porch light on, put on some loud music, and went for coffee and dessert somewhere, he’d likely be gone by the time we got home.”
“Right you are!” I’d say, then bring the discussion back to the outrage which had brought them into my office in the first place. The dastardly neighbour, the arrogant uncle, the a**hole who not only tried to kill them on the highway, but offered to pound them out in addition, or the city by-law which forbade them from installing a swimming pool in their front yard. Whatever, same nonsense, different day.
These, and hundreds of other great insults to the psyche, could have made me rich beyond my wildest dreams if I had just suited up in armour and raced off to tilt at the windmill as my client wanted. But that would have been unethical, and in the end, the clients and I would have hated each other, and they’d have told all their friends. Not a good outcome.
Which brings us to the current Leader of the Free World who, until a day or two ago, had determined that he needed to add Greenland to the United States on an urgent basis. Nothing less would do, as the Russians and Chinese were already swarming all over the place in that country, ready to do harm to America.
The problem that Denmark and the rest of the still-civilized world faced was that The Donald was so deeply invested in it. Even though most adult Americans thought it was the dumbest and perhaps most dangerous thing yet from Trump, and even if his suck-up Cabinet was less than supportive. But Donnie still sat on the floor like a three year old, screeching and babbling until he got the latest bauble of his affection.
And Donnie, regretfully, has a red button which could end the world. Like the skunk, but worse.
The rest of the world, fortunately, applied the Skunk Gambit, until nature prevailed. Trump’s sycophants may be spineless, but they’re not entirely stupid, and they understood that American sentiment was massively against this fantasy. Those generals and admirals who were going to have to execute this nonsense were signaling that this would turn into a never-ending and frightfully expensive boondoggle, and most importantly, Trump’s billionaire friends didn’t like the idea of losing money and influence in Europe. And so, the three year old who was pounding his fists on the floor and screeching at the top of his lungs somehow got the message that there would be no candy.
Other than sending a few ski patrols to Greenland, the Europeans had done nothing drastic. But somehow they found a way and some words that allowed Donald to announce to the world that he had won, he got everything he wanted, and more, and that everybody would be great friends going forward. NATO was saved, TACO prevailed, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. When we finally get to see the official text, if ever, it will say, in essence, “Same old, same old.”
On an international scale, the Skunk Gambit worked. As it will in your life and mine, all those times when we encounter outrageous behaviour which calls for getting the shovel from the garage and “teaching somebody a good lesson”. Almost always, the best solution is the littlest solution, and in hindsight, the most obvious. Except that it doesn’t satisfy our primal need to beat the crap out of the bad guy.
Somehow, having the skunk just waddle off into the night while we’re kept out of our own home seems an offence to all that is fair and just. But it is, by far, the smartest thing we can do.