Once upon a time there was a guy named Hans Christian Anderson who wrote a story about an emperor who was exposed (literally) by his own vanity. We’re living that now here in the U.S. I’m actually amazed that this administration hasn’t banned every copy of The Emperor’s New Clothes, but it’s possible it’s above most of their reading levels.
Nothing ever really changes, it just gets recycled. Anderson’s story was actually based on others from Aesop to Persian folktales. So even within the frame we used to think of as American exceptionalism, we can’t claim this farce as our own. It’s like a virus or a comet that comes along every now and then. Or watching a car wreck. Or a train. Perhaps a space ship explode on a launch platform.
Regardless, I do think we’ll probably be able to claim the worst version of the story when this one does come to an end.
It’s more than obvious that Trump and his sloppy lickspittle sycophants can’t run a country, a war, an economy, or apparently not even a big 250th celebration of America’s founding without making a fool of themselves while they dig deeper holes for the rest of us. Small hint: you just need lots of fireworks and a military band. As long as the members meet the height and weight requirements.
They’re good at grifting and making money. For themselves. Apparently there are still enough suckers out there willing to pony up. That’s the only surprising part of our version. Although some who’ve seen enough are looking for new digs in Argentina. I’m guessing the real estate market there will see boom times as others follow. As long as the data centers don’t get there first.
The sinking spectacle is so obvious that it feels like most have started to ignore the water rising around their ankles, hoping they develop webbing between their toes. Those still shocked seem to be adopting a wait it out attitude. That makes some sense. There’s nothing really to be done until he’s no longer on the planet. Although I do have my doubts that his courtiers will even announce that he’s gone once he passes, out of fear for their own lives. We might even get a new definition of what death is. We’ll all be living through a Death of Stalin moment. Which is a shame because that movie was actually a good one. And funny. Watch it and see that part of our future.
Or just read The Emperor’s New Clothes. Not for anything new. There’s no insight to be gleaned with your eyes shut or turned away from what we’re seeing. But it’s better than watching the literal decay displayed daily on some screen or the other.
One day there’s going to be a large cleanup on aisle six. It will probably be as messy as it is glorious.
You can also find more of my writings on a variety of topics on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome. I can also be found on social media under my name as above. This site does not use affilate links.
Life on the Wicked Stage: Act 3 