My Republican friends, whose children won’t qualify for free college tuition, have been taking foreign trips in disproportionate numbers this electoral cycle and, once home, would rather talk about patisseries in France than politics. The most intellectual conservatives I know are actively rooting against Trump so they can re-build their party on the brainpower, and ideological courage, it lost when it went full Barnum. Even the ex-con who, once, wanted to wave “Convicts for Trump” signs at the candidate’s rallies is trending Clinton.
The prayer posts have started, too. Having failed to convince others with, facts, logic, even emotion, a number of die-hards are asking God to change the minds of those who, somehow, can’t find it in their hearts to overlook ignorance, prejudice, and sexism. Unfortunately, a fear of hell lurking out there, somewhere, in the midst of two trillion galaxies has lost its rigor and is unlikely to scare locker rooms full of people into the rigged voting booths full of dead people where they can make their mark next to Trump’s name.
It’s hard, also, to ignore the stress afflicting Trump surrogates. Newt Gingrich’s rambling, panurgic, spin on Trump’s Gettysburg Address, posted on the nominee’s Twitter account, featured a bleary-eyed, puffy-face man in clear distress giving an elegy to Trump’s alleged growth as a human being. Unfortunately for Newt, you are expected to have more than slogans when you begin to run for President. It’s not like Summer Camp where you learn to turn dog paddling into swimming and come home a more sufficient, if sunburned, person.
At the televised Al Smith Dinner, a Catholic charity, Rudy Giuliani, Trump devotee first-class, played duck-and-cover dumb at a Clinton joke about the Statue of Liberty being a 4, or a 5 and, then, flashed a losing-at-poker-face when a less cute Clinton barb landed his way. It was probably her meanest joke and, almost, gratuitous because Rudy, sweating, glasses askew, mostly, slumped in the seat from which he was forced to watch Trump disgrace himself, again.
Only the kindness of the uncomfortable dinner host, Cardinal Timothy Dolan, on the morning talk shows the next day, mitigated the affront to the New York swells who gussied up to text, drink, rib themselves, and raise money for kids. The Tongue’s uncouth spirits required Dolan, seeking to save his dinner, to say that Trump and Clinton, in a private after-prayer moment before the dinner, were “kind” to one another in an exchange of about twenty words. The average American English speaker speaks at a rate of approximately 110-150 words per minute. You do the math and gauge the length of Trump’s civility.
The effect on Trump’s brand from the bad business decision to run for President is already taking its toll. His name is being removed from some of his flagship properties, from bellhop and maid uniforms, and from carpets with the once prestigious moniker. To say you won’t have Trump to walk on anymore once the election is over, however, may be premature.
After he lost the 1962 election for California Governor to Edmund “Pat” Brown, father of current four-term Governor Jerry Brown, Richard Nixon, who famously blamed the media for his loss, quipped, “You don't have Nixon to kick around any more, because, gentlemen, this is my last press conference.” Look how that turned out. Maybe it really is time to pray.
Mike Malak is an attorney, writer, and Photographer. He lives in California.