Little Donnie Trump’s daddy told him he was a winner—that he was meant to be a king. But Donnie’s daddy had so much money little Donnie could never prove himself to himself.
He started out on top, with lots of room to fall and not much to rise. Donnie set out to make a splash. He would surround himself with people who would tell him how great he was.
And Donnie would do it in Manhattan, drawing attention as his father never had. But the people there saw through him. They saw he was a fraud. They didn’t admire him.
Not the people from whom he really wanted admiration, anyway. So Donnie struggled. Finally, and almost accidentally, he landed the presidency. But Donnie was a congenital fuckup.
Remarkably, for this job, he didn’t owe anybody much. He could have accomplished some interesting things if he had the sense but he was too stupid to see, let alone seize, his chance.
At last he could have been a hero and he blew it, only showing what a clown he was in front of the whole world. That is the end of a story not yet ended but with a determined outcome.
FAILURE.
He is too stupid to see it, maybe luckily for him. He only perceives it dimly. He thrashes around and lashes out. It is not so lucky for us. He embodies our worst faults and weaknesses.
Donnie’s daddy set him up. He assumed something Donnie could never achieve, a sense of self worth. That comes from real accomplishment. Everything was handed to Donnie Trump.
It is emblematic. A failing president for a failing society. Both were given too much.
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