Passing the Ketchup
Throughout the Trump years, and now more than a year later, it has been evident that the men in Trump’s sphere are mostly weak and lacking character. It was a qualification that became necessary after the semi-tough early appointments in the administration proved difficult to control. His three generals, Mattis, McMasters, and Kelly, come to mind. They were useful to early Trump because the glare from their bemedaled chests blinded some to their weakness—a default to an authority that rendered them useless in taming their commander-in-chief. In fact, Trump found their reputations useful to embellish his own reputation as a tough guy. He loved calling Mattis MadDog which he used to burnish his own chicken-shit credentials as a bankrupt draft-dodging con artist. As Trump was being investigated, first by Robert Muller and later at his first impeachment proceedings, the generals took shelter with no comments and their refusals to testify. Alexander Vindman, a true hero and patriot, in contrast to them, risked his military career and reputation to guard the nation against the illegitimate advances of a criminal commander. A fourth general. the criminally charged and seditious Michael Flynn was ousted within days of the administration’s start for conspiring with Russians before his appointment as National Security Advisor. His medals have long been tarnished, but not to the extent that Trump would not pardon his disgraceful behavior.
Safely stowed in a Mayonnaise jar
No, Trump liked his men weak-willed and malleable. Men who would act on his orders, or better yet, act on a wink. Men like Mark Meadows, whose obsequiousness was his allure, and whose backbone was tucked away somewhere where only Donald Trump held the key. And so, in the sixth chapter of the January 6th hearings, a woman stood up and swore to tell the truth about what she heard and saw in the days that led up to the insurrection. Cassidy Hutchinson had little to gain and much to lose by testifying. She could have chosen a path that would have allowed her to remain anonymous which would have secured favor in “trumpworld” — a monicker likely used in warnings that witnesses were threatened with if they chose to testify:
“What they said to me is, ‘As long as I continue to be a team player, they know that I’m on the team, I’m doing the right thing, I’m protecting who I need to protect, you know, I’ll continue to stay in good graces in Trump World,’” she said one witness told the committee. “And they have reminded me a couple of times that Trump does read transcripts and just to keep that in mind as I proceeded through my depositions and interviews with the committee.”
a majority of one
Ms. Hutchinson, a 25-year-old in her first political job, risked her career to tell the truth because it was a personal requirement imposed on her by conscience. The “world” that tried to intimidate her is itself intimidated by her standing up to their bluster. Again, a small voice speaks volumes:
“The only tyrant I accept in this world is the 'still small voice' within me. And even though I have to face the prospect of being a minority of one, I humbly believe I have the courage to be in such a hopeless minority.”
Today, Cassidy Hutchinson stands taller than all the president’s men who shrink around her. She stands out among Meadows, Cippilone, and the White House cowards who ran the halls that day with hair afire. They worried not about the Capital police, the legislators and staff threatened by the rioters, or Mike Pence. They feared more for the comforts of “trumpworld” than they did for the nation. Hutchinson, “a minority of one,” stood up for them and the rest of us. Her “still small voice” shouted down all the lies and silenced the liars who told them. For at least one day someone shut Trump up.