Diary

Facts, Damned Facts and Donald Trump

So, then: Dorothy and Scarecrow, the Tin Man and Cowardly Lion are backed into a corner way atop the Wicked Witch of the West’s dark and foreboding tower; The oddly ethnic Tower Guardsmen are closing in with their scimitars and pitchfork-thingees.

Somewhere in there, the Wicked Witch starts her broom on fire, and attempts to set the Scarecrow alight. A nearby bucket of water is pitched by Dorothy at the poor Scarecrow, whose feet are suddenly blazing. The water, though, is errant, and it lands on the Witch, and she starts melting.

In one of the most indelible scenes in the history of cinema, the Witch (who, in an apparent Saul on the Road to Damascus moment years later in her TV life would hawk Maxwell House coffee) began wailing “Oh, what a world, what a world! all of my beautiful wickedness is melting, melting!” and she seems to verily melt into the trap door of the MGM set. The smoke billowed out, the lights flashed and all of the Witch was gone except for her pointy witch-hat.

Question: If water was so potentially deadly to such Witches, why was there a bucket of it just sitting around the castle? …Certain questions aren’t meant to be asked, I guess.

But, this little vignette does offer an important lesson: For some reason, Witches leave buckets of water lying around.

So has Donald Trump.

As I said in an earlier post, Donald Trump is a bully. And bullies are little (w)itches who will melt when the right bucket of water is thrown on them. They will also loudly telegraph what the exact bucket is.

Just like the Wicked Witch of the West, Donald Trump is as full of opinions as he is of himself. He has an opinion about everybody and everything. Rosie O’Donnell? Donald Trump has an opinion. Megan Kelly’s Time o’ the Month? Donald Trump has an opinion. Hon. Mr. McCain of Arizona? Hon. Mr. Cruz of Texas?  Antonin Scalia? Opinion, opinion, opinion.

What Trump does not have is facts.

Based on his flaming Twitter wars, sophomoric gesticulations, beyond-this-galaxy superlatives and overall industrial-grade obnoxiousness, Mr. Trump is as empirically afraid of facts as the Wicked Witch is of water. People who have their facts marshaled, and who exude confidence in the knowledge thereof don’t need to make fun of people’s looks, or their age, or even their lack of energy. They stand confident in their wisdom. Wise is not an adjective one applies to Donald Trump.

Pace Rod Serling, imagine if you will: At the next presidential debate, as Mr. Trump throttles his lectern and glowers down upon the moderators, his eyes barely visible behind his Clint Eastwood squint, Jake Tapper (or whomever) leans in…

“Mr Trump. America has enjoyed you for years as the Boss to an ongoing series of Apprentices. On your self-styled show, it is your job to weed out the contenders, one by one, until a final apprentice is selected. Along the way, prospective apprentices must perform tasks and answer questions about the specific job you have in mind for them as employees of one of your many commercial operations. They must demonstrate specific knowledge about the position they are seeking to fill. In much the same way, voters in primary elections will soon begin doing the same thing. So, in that same vain, Mr. Trump, I would like you to tell me: what is a pocket veto, and how can a President wield it?”

…at which point Trump will begin screeching Oh What a World, What a World! All of my beautiful cunning is melting, melting!!

Of course, he would stumble about, gasping for air, and give some belching answer about hiring the greatest people to tell him what a Pocket Veto is– and within this answer, hanging like a foul odor in the air above the debate stage is the fact that Donald couldn’t answer a simple question about the office he seeks: Not about his opinions about it, not about his opinions on this-or-that issue– about the office itself. Trump speaks volumes (!) about the idiots running the government. Let’s see what his Idiot Quotient is.

Trump must be confronted somehow, someway, about his blazing lack of factual knowledge about the office he seeks. And, it cannot be done on O’Reily or other one-on-one marshmallow fests. It cannot be done at one of the arena stops on the Donaldpalooza tour. It must be done in a very serious setting– like a broadcast debate, or a press briefing.

Or, another scenario:

A debate moderator begins grilling [mc_name name=’Sen. Ted Cruz (R-TX)’ chamber=’senate’ mcid=’C001098′ ]… “Mr. Cruz, in 2012, Rick Perry’s presidential campaign effectively ended when he couldn’t name three of the four Federal Departments he sought to eliminate. And yet, you made a similar error in the first debate. Would you like to explain again why this has had almost no effect on your campaign?”

…to which [mc_name name=’Sen. Ted Cruz (R-TX)’ chamber=’senate’ mcid=’C001098′ ] might answer…

“It is a good question, Jake. I think most people who were watching both debates can tell you pretty clearly what the differences is between Governor Perry’s –a man I admire very much — his performance in 2012, and mine some months ago. The context of the answers is all that is required to understand the difference. But, more to the point, I would like to ask Donald Trump a quick question, if I might. Of the sixteen federal cabinet level departments, which, if any, Donald, would you eliminate?”

And, once again, Donald would steam and hiss, and vamp about, giving his usual bromide about hiring great people to tell him what to do. And when he was done, [mc_name name=’Sen. Ted Cruz (R-TX)’ chamber=’senate’ mcid=’C001098′ ] could quietly, humbly say

There are only fifteen cabinet departments, Donald.

Oh, what a World, What a World! I’m melting! Melting!