Enter the Emperor
It all started with the escalator. The semiotic implications of the moment couldn't have been more clear. Like some blow-dried potentate, J. Donald Trump, builder of towering buildings, reality television star, salesman and con-man, descended from the heavens, a few steps above his angelic wife ready to announce his candidacy for the office of President of the United States.
Carefully managed dramatic entrances would come easily for the man who would eventually stun the world with his electoral victory. A master of marketing and manipulation, the Emperor Donald 1st must now feel a bit like Muhammad Ali right after he floored Sonny Liston -- captivated by his own image, surrounded by adoring sycophants, many on bended knee in search of a cabinet post or a cushy assignment as an American ambassador.
Last summer, when it was questionable that Mr. Trump would have enough political support to be accepted into the debates, he decided that his way to stand out from the other Republican candidates would be to appropriate the attention of the country in a storm of right-wing rhetoric, stinging insults against members of his own party and other hyperbole. Pundits and political functionaries began to feel uneasy as Trump's poll numbers started to rise. The ensuing opposition reports of his dirty dealings as a businessman along with his foul treatment of women barely tarnished his celestial image. Instead it closed the deal: American voters would never accept this man as the country's chief executive. Left-leaning critics, such as myself, were elated. I found myself chuckling at odd times throughout the day, suggesting that we thank Donald for single-handedly destroying the Republican Party.
Now, with the shoe on the proverbial foot, the Democratic Party must find a way to make the best of the long dark night and deliver its message to those ready to listen -- as soon as they find out just who that is.
Carefully managed dramatic entrances would come easily for the man who would eventually stun the world with his electoral victory. A master of marketing and manipulation, the Emperor Donald 1st must now feel a bit like Muhammad Ali right after he floored Sonny Liston -- captivated by his own image, surrounded by adoring sycophants, many on bended knee in search of a cabinet post or a cushy assignment as an American ambassador.
Last summer, when it was questionable that Mr. Trump would have enough political support to be accepted into the debates, he decided that his way to stand out from the other Republican candidates would be to appropriate the attention of the country in a storm of right-wing rhetoric, stinging insults against members of his own party and other hyperbole. Pundits and political functionaries began to feel uneasy as Trump's poll numbers started to rise. The ensuing opposition reports of his dirty dealings as a businessman along with his foul treatment of women barely tarnished his celestial image. Instead it closed the deal: American voters would never accept this man as the country's chief executive. Left-leaning critics, such as myself, were elated. I found myself chuckling at odd times throughout the day, suggesting that we thank Donald for single-handedly destroying the Republican Party.
Now, with the shoe on the proverbial foot, the Democratic Party must find a way to make the best of the long dark night and deliver its message to those ready to listen -- as soon as they find out just who that is.
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