I don’t know what to make of this election. Somehow the voters of the two major parties managed to spend two years narrowing down the respective fields to the candidates whom they like the least.
That’s democracy in action.
I’m voting for Hillary Clinton, of course. If I vote for Donald Trump, I might as well be punching in the nuclear codes myself.
She has a chance to be a great president. She has been held to an impossibly high standard for a quarter century. She’s experienced. She’s tough. She shares an annoying habit of many. It’s not that she lies. She just seldom tells the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
Trump seldom comes within a Van Allen radiation belt of the truth.
This year is an uproarious, zany comedy that, unfortunately, is getting closer and closer to being serious. Trump has a marvelous role, requiring a combination of Bulworth and a trio of Peter Sellers tours de force — Inspector Clouseau, Doctor Strangelove, and Chauncy Gardiner — to pull off.
Surely a special Oscar is in order. Or a Grammy.
All Secretary Clinton has to do is cure a nasty habit that is common. She stretches the truth. Is it really a lie? Or just a fib? A white lie? It’s almost as if the Democratic candidate really believes the FBI director said she had been truthful, even though he said nothing of the sort. Just say what he said. I made some mistakes. I had no evil intentions. I messed up. It won’t happen again.
“Be rich like Eddy Arnold, say you’re making more than you are …” – Statler Brothers, “How to Be a Country Star”
Trump tells whoppers. He just saw them on Twitter. Because of Twitter, he has no time for facts, figures, and learned advice. He’s no white supremacist. He just passes what they say along. He is a disseminator without discernment. Discernment is bad for ratings.
“Plenty of people have written about it.” Name one.
“My friends have told me the unemployment rate is really 42 percent.” Which ones?
Some say it’s all a show. He really has good sense. That’s what Ben Carson said. Hmm. Where else have I heard that? Hmm. Perhaps I should Google. Who thought Adolf Hitler was “a man with whom I can do business”?
“However much we may sympathize with a small nation confronted by a big and powerful neighbour, we cannot in all circumstances undertake to involve the whole British Empire in a war simply on her account.” — Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain (1938)
Trump won’t stop the Russians in Ukraine. He suggests he doesn’t care if Vladimir Putin invades the Baltic. I’m not comparing Trump to Chamberlain or Hitler. He reminds me of Benito Mussolini: theatrical, inept, bombastic, vain, and self-absorbed.
It’s a discredit to resort to profanity, but civil words cannot adequately describe Donald John Trump, from the German Drumpfs. He is an artist of bullshit: pure, toxic, and available in lethal doses.
The best comparison of Trump and Chamberlain is that Chamberlain let the facts get in his way, and Trump never does that. The best outcome would be if Trump never reaches a position where he can further demonstrate his catastrophic judgment.
What would be a virtue in most men, confidence, is evidence of lunacy in Trump’s case.
Only I can fix it. Only I know how I’m going to do it. Turn America over to me. Me, me, me, me!
He’s not presidential. He’s messianic.
The Trump, uh, Movement? It might just as well be Scientology.
I’ve written four novels and a collection of short stories. I’ve also written a number of books about sports, mostly about NASCAR. You can find most of them here.
The Kindle versions of my books, where available, can be found above. Links below are to print editions.
I’ve written a crime novel about the corrosive effects of patronage and the rise and fall of a powerful politician and his dysfunctional family, Forgive Us Our Trespasses.
I’ve written about what happens to a football coach when he loses everything, Crazy of Natural Causes.
I’ve written a tale of the Sixties in the South, centered on school integration and a high school football team, The Intangibles.
I’ve written a rollicking yarn about the feds trying to track down and manipulate a national hero who just happens to be a pot-smoking songwriter, The Audacity of Dope.
I’ve written a collection of 11 short stories, all derived from songs I wrote, Longer Songs.
Most of my sports columns are at montedutton.com.
Follow me on Twitter @montedutton, @hmdutton (about writing), and/or @wastedpilgrim (more opinionated and irreverent). I’m on Facebook (Monte.Dutton), Instagram (TUG50), and Google-Plus (MonteDuttonWriter).
Coming soon: My fifth novel, a modern western, Cowboys Come Home.