“Don’t expect me to buy the Brooklyn Bridge from you just because you know more about Brooklyn than I do”.
This will be my last post about Melania Trump. Trust me. My word is bond, and I always do what I say I’m going to do. Then again, I recycled the opening aphroism from an earlier post, so you can’t be all that sure, can you?
If someone asked me to describe the Trump phenomenon, I’d first have them read two books – “To Kill A Mockingbird” and “The Great Gatsby”. The first shows how easily mob justice turns to institutional injustice.The second – well, if there’s one takeaway from Speechgate, it’s that Melania is Jay Gatsby to Donald’s Daisy Buchanan. Don is all flash, with a thin veneer of substance over a narcissistic center. Melania, on the other hand. is a cipher. How else would you describe someone who, when asked to reveal the contour of her character before the nation and world, Photoshops in parts of someone else’s? That she thinks it’s acceptable for to present the American electorate with a persona that’s cobbled together from whatever nice stuff she finds lying around says a lot about the environment she exists in. The Clintons are prevaricators, which is bad enough. The Trumps are fabricators, spinning out of whole cloth the material we’ll use to decide who is gong to have the most important job in the world for the next four years.