A crystal-ball op-eb
By Rob Okun
I’m writing this on Tuesday morning, gazing into my crystal ball. The ball shows a blue tsunami. It’s not a ripple or a wave. There’s a sea of red MAGA caps floating in the swirling waters, waters Maryland Rep. Jamie Raskin might describe as the Strait of Warm Ooze.
Cruelty and meanness, the two poisonous arrows in the Republican quiver, flew way wide of their targets in the midterm election. The Democrats ran the table. They ran the chairs, and the plates; the glasses and silverware.
Since no one loves slapping a new name on things more than you, sir, I’d like to help. The crystal ball predicts a groundswell to rename 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Say it out loud with me: the “White ICE.” It almost sounds like the White House, but it’s more accurate. It stands for the White Imperial Cruelty Edifice. White, as in the country you ache for. Imperial, as in the king you yearn to be. Cruelty, as in your standing policy. Edifice, as in what’s left standing after you took a wrecking ball to the East Wing.
Sir, I mean no disrespect (well, that’s not exactly true), but what is the matter with you and your acolytes? Take Vice President Vance, or Vivek Ramaswamy, whose campaign ran an attack ad slandering his opponent, Ohio Gov.-elect Amy Acton, who was raped by her mother’s husband. Who watches an ad like that and greenlights it? As you know, many prominent Republicans found the ad vile and reprehensible, but you and JD were all in with the ad to the bitter end.
At campaign stop after campaign stop, you crowed, “Pretend I’m on the ballot! Pretend I’m on the ballot!” Mr. President, were you secretly working for the Democrats? Has no one shown you your poll numbers? Take all the cognitive tests you want at the White ICE. Respectfully, sir, you’ve lost it, and you don’t even know where to begin to look to find it.
Meanwhile, sir, the incoming Democratic majorities are sharpening their subpoena pens. For starters, they plan to investigate your two years and counting corruption spree, your secretaries of Defense and Health and Human Services, and the demolished East Wing. And don’t get me started, sir, on gutting health care to millions, the disastrous, illegal war in Iran, the tariffs, the trade wars, the killing of fishermen in the Caribbean, and the kowtowing to Putin while he grinds through Ukraine. Hell has just frozen over. Sir.
Oh, I almost forgot the Kennedy Center. No one wants to perform there anymore. Sir, you’ve achieved something even President Nixon couldn’t: you made Broadway stars turn down a gig.
Here’s a bit of free advice. Listen to your niece Mary Trump’s podcast. She’s a clinical psychologist, and she’s been trying to tell the rest of us about you for years.
Here’s my last question for the crystal ball. What will it take for someone to finally sit down with you and invite you to face the music? Do you want a cabinet secretary? Marco, maybe? Would you prefer, Goddess forbid, Elon? They might say: “Sir, there’s a way out. It’s called the 25th Amendment. You take the lead in leaving. You do the duck and weave. You can fall back on every departing politician’s famous line: “I want to spend more time with my family.” That’s surely believable since you haven’t seen the First Lady in months. Sir, there are new golf courses to play, ones you haven’t yet taken a mulligan at. Think about it.
The lame-duck period of your shaky presidency has begun, sir. Quack.
Rob Okun (robokun50@gmail.com), syndicated by PeaceVoice, is editor emeritus of Voice Male, which has long chronicled the profeminist men’s movement.
