The Gipper and the Griper

Long story short:

Doc Brown was cruising the neighborhood tonight in his souped-up 1982 DeLorean, and he took me for a little spin. Right after the Flux Capacitor finished fluxing, we landed squarely in Indianapolis on July 19th, one day after the 2016 Republican National Convention.

The Bad News? Donald Trump was the Republican Nominee. I won’t tell you who he chose to be his running mate, but, believe me: It’s horrifying.

It gets worse. Much worse.

As I say, we were in Indianapolis, and we were part of the crowd that watched his gargantuan bus tour caravan (five brand-new custom Land Yachts, fifteen black stretch Suburbans, countless lesser vehicles) trundle along Sugarland Avenue, and later watched them disembark at the Brickyard, where he made his first public speech.

The “Speech” was a catastrophe. It was a train-wreck, a tire-yard fire, a Category 5 tornado –all rolled into one.

First of all, The Donald was still in the obvious throes of recovering from a summer-time cold, and he looked tired and disheveled. Second of all, the acoustics in the outdoor stadium were horrendous. The massive crowd was both unruly and rather, well– “brittle”. Everyone seemed on edge.

When Trump mounted the dais, the wind was really whipping, and the poor placement of the microphones put jarring “whooshes” into the air. It was at times overcast, and then blindingly sunny. Things started out “okay”…

“Wow. Just wow.” Donald started out slow, and haltingly built to his usual riff: “What a tremendous last couple of days, huh? I told you we were going to Make America Great again, and let me tell you: We started a movement yesterday that will be bigger, greater, more unbelievable than Ronald Reagan!”

The crowd cheered, but it seemed muted– if by no other reason the unrelenting reverb.

…and almost immediately, Trump hit the proverbial wall –which you could actually see at the far end of the racetrack:

“Today we begin the real campaign,” –the flags were whipping, the wind was swirling, and Donald rumbled on: “Let me tell you, my friends: It will be a campaign that will be unlike any Presidential campaign we’ve ever seen before in this country. The crowds will be bigger, the votes will be bigger, the ratings will be bigger. And we won’t stop until we’ve taken back the White House!

The crowd was beginning to feed on the drama, and Donald continued to vamp: “We will even make the White House itself bigger, and more fantastic! Let me tell you, everybody, and I can say this because I’ve been to the White House dozens and dozens of times: It needs a lot of work. For one thing, it needs a proper ballroom and banquet facilities–! And, I’m the guy to do it! We will make it bigger, and more elegant, and make it worthy of the greatest nation on earth! We will make the White House the WHITE House again!”*

As I say, it was an immediate train-wreck.

“…make the White House the WHITE House again!” The man said it. July 19th, 2016. Our Republican Nominee.

Oh, yes, probably (and I say probably) Trump meant that we were going to make the White House, once again, into a place that verily recovered some of its lost grandeur of ages past– but that’s not how it came out.

It came out that we were going to replace the Black Guy with a White Guy.

I don’t have to tell you that the rest of the campaign (and it went on with Hillary despite her indictment) was a nightmare: Trump spent most of the time denying that he was a filthy, bigoted racist. There was no mention of any issue beyond Hillary’s criminality, and Trump’s Neanderthal bigotry.

…nothing in the press, or in the media, or on the blogosphere,  about repealing and ripping up Obamacare: It was non-stop shouting about racism and hatred and antipathy. Nothing was mentioned about the mountains of debt and public liabilities. Nothing about rebuilding our alliances and military. Not a word was spoken about the thousands of regulations piled on the American people, and their suffocating effect on the normal, everyday citizens. Nary a word was uttered about Liberty, or individual sovereignty, or the constitution. It was an complete, despicable embarrassment.

For three months in the fall of 2016, with Trump as the Republican Nominee, and Hillary in for the Dems, all we heard was Donald screeching insults and swearing at public rallies. He tweeted non-stop invective against an ever-increasing list of detractors and “enemies”. Meanwhile, the Special Prosecutor started closing in on Hillary, and she soon was cloistered away like a Sacramentine sister, her favorite stump speech began to have only two words “No Comment”.

This is what we were treated to as cognizant, rational, truly concerned Americans– when we should have —could have— had the most consequential, deliberative election season in a lifetime. Instead we had Trumpertantrums and bellicose lies.

Oh: And Hillary was elected by an electorate that was three million votes smaller than 2012.

After I witnessed all of this, I decided I’d seen enough. So, I thought I’d better let Doc Brown go on his way, and make it home in time to feed Einstein. Think about this, New Hampshireites –here on the eve of your first big vote of the season. A vote for Donald Trump is a vote for frivolity, and choas, and stupidity in the fall.

The Gipper? Not so much. More like the Griper.

( Author’s Note: It takes no imagination to envision the “gaffes” and the media-induced narratives that will flow from the stream-of-Trump-conscienceness once he is the nominee. Donald Trump will, of course, brush these accusatory narratives off as he does now. The only difference in the fall election season will be the size of the audience, and how truly sick people will be of the man and his antics. He will drive voters away by the container-load. The looming disaster is easy to see for those with eyes…)