The Trump phenomenon is puzzling. It induces vertigo in thoughtful people, who ask themselves: Am I unable to grasp the lucid arguments this man is making because I am whirling around out of control and disoriented, or am I unable to acknowledge the logic of his arguments because the ground around me is spinning out demons and dervishes, while I am stubbornly rooted in the hard soil of facts?
For those who, like me, grapple with confusion by affixing familiar labels to incomprehensible phenomena I offer two containers into which Trumphew! can be squeezed.
Sirloin:
Imagine picking up a choice cut of sirloin at the butcher’s. You place it on your kitchen counter, unwrap it and, to your surprise, it begins to talk.
What? A talking sirloin? I can’t believe it. How thrilling.
Of course, knowing that the cut is from the rump or flank of the cow or, in any case, a measurable distance from the head, and therefore, the brain, you are not surprised that what the sirloin is saying makes no sense. It is a babble of words, a tangle of sounds.
But hey, a talking sirloin. Wow!
Uncle Donald:
Every family gathering has an Uncle Donald. Above the scent of grilled sausage patties and the clucking of gossiping aunts there is the boom of the know-it-all. Every clan has one. No summer barbecue is exempt. Along with aunt Ivana’s potato salad, and the buttery sweetness of corn-on-the-cob, Uncle Donald’s silly putty opinions on everything from A to Z are an obnoxious and embarrassing dish of the family buffet. Try firing a volley of facts at Uncle Donald, and… On the other hand don’t bother. Toss horseshoes with the cousins, or play hide-and-seek with the grandkids. Summer will pass, and Uncle Donald’s forum will vanish with it.