

When I was in fourth grade, in the morning, we would sit and listen to Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA” from an old tape deck in lieu reciting of the pledge. It felt more meaningful, and I suppose that’s why our teachers chose it as the daily patriotic ritual.
I like to think someone like Lee who possesses the heart of a musician that could create so much meaning in song, perhaps just can’t see past his own career, or through the thin veneer of simplistic patriotism, or that he simply can’t turn down his fans or an adoring crowd. He certainly doesn’t seem to be short on cash, and he performs at Trump events for free (which is probably why Trump likes him). And, he doesn’t seem to have the angry, bitter, and resentful spirit that has gripped the modern conservative movement.
Just what the hell is it that can make people blissfully embrace what Trump claims to represent while somehow letting the very real horror of what he does pass right through them?









Ironically, the things that matter the most to Trump matter the least to our actual condition. We’re still putting innocent people in concentration camps, murdering God-knows-who with military boat strikes in the Caribbean, dismantling healthcare, disenfranchising American voters, and blowing up schools in Iran.
However, Trump’s failure to break the resistance with these measures has caused him to retreat into the only attention seeking activities that make him feel good: pissing all over DC with his trashy, botched, pet real estate projects, contrived fascist rallies, and lame parties thrown in Trump’s honor… by Trump himself. When you’re the President of the United States it’s easy to stumble into problems that no one on earth can save you from, something that has never happened to him before. Chipping away at his last narcissistic comfort zones with the symbolic rejection of scrubbing his name from our monuments will probably send him from the deep end and into orbit.
We’ve seen some truly, truly insane things from Trump, but they have been in the context of an American presidency. I don’t think Trump’s ego has an upper limit. If the midterm elections deliver the shellacking that appears to be coming, Hormuz is still shut, and they take away his toys? I cannot wait for a front row seat to the unimaginable display of unmitigated narcissistic rage from the world’s biggest ego imploding like a dying supermassive star.
By the end, the secret service is going to have to drag him in handcuffs kicking and screaming from a White House bunker.