Huevos Trumpos

If Trump should lose I'm sure he will go back to Mar-a-Lago and lick his wounds, or have someone lick them for him. But how can a culture process such a trauma? Denial, I fear, will be the answer on both sides, reflecting the incredible, Republican-induced polarization and militarization of our politics.

Trump's supporters are already in denial, thinking that he is in any way appropriate for public office, let alone in an important role. The other side will breathe too big a sigh of relief and carry on as though it isn't an ongoing emergency--but it is. One shell will have whistled over our heads.

But the Bismarck of political battleships is just offshore. I will own that the specter of Trumpism is too much to handle head-on. I can't. So it must be approached obliquely and tangentially, through all the small ways in which a society encounters various things, like having a brew named after you.

"Trump Lager" would work. And I am ready to recommend that my favorite Mexican restaurant begin to serve Heuvos Trumpos. I'll send the recipe and a sample down to Mar-a-Lago. Somehow we have to begin to understand the unbelievable insanity of Trumpism, not that I would drink his beer. 

I wouldn't touch anything with a hint of him on it but that's the point, to be compelled to remember, in subtle ways, that the forces supporting him aren't going anywhere. This ugly aspect of the movement will have to be addressed and comprehended and countered or we will pay down the road.

And it will have to be done while their battleship, with or without Captain Trump and his mates, is shelling the hell out of us because that is their idea of appropriate behavior in a democracy. Just thank God your name isn't Obamacare. That would be a terrible target to have on your back.