Just Like Tofu Trump, I Can’t Help Myself

I almost nearly swore when I started this blog a year ago I wouldn’t discuss politics or religion. How ludicrous. I’ve broken my promise several times with zeal. I can’t help it. This is an election year. And a buffoon is running for president.  And my blog is about, “Dumbfounding Human Behavior.” Trump fits both the dumb, and the behavior, if the behavior is “very, very bad.” Or a “disgrace” or unterrific.

In Trump fashion I’ve come up with several monikers for the presumptive nominee: Bozo Donald, after my favorite unevolved, carrot-haired clown, Fascist Donald, (which has no ring to it but makes perfect sense) even Narcissist Donald. Of course branding him is a waste of time, it’s not like he’ll ever see or appreciate my extreme wit. And he wouldn’t care anyway. He’d brag that I’ve copied the way he sophomorically labels people. I don’t care, I can’t help myself.

I have a new one: Tofu Trump. (Yes, I know it sounds cheesy.) But just like tofu, The Donald is full of holes and boring. (He says the same thing over and over and over and over again. And bragging about yourself constantly is dull.) But more importantly, he doesn’t have a solid, inner core. He takes on the flavors around him and TRUMPets what people are desperate to hear at the time. A few weeks ago when he met with establishment Republicans like Paul Ryan and others, he was on his best behavior and cheerfully repeated the party’s platform. (Pardon the alliteration.) What a relief. He was going to deliver the health benefits of tofu. You know, what is healthy for the party. “Yes, Yes, Yes! Our man is “Presidential!” Yes, he was all-consuming for a thirty-minute period.

But then a day later, at one of his infamous rallies, he delivered the unhealthy side of Tofu Trump. He took on the flavor of the bigotry around him—the intense, primitive hunger from people craving change in any form—and became the dangerous man he truly was, and is. The puffed up Grand Insulter, the race baiter, the liar. He can’t help himself. He has to blast anyone, whether they be a judge, journalist, or opponent, who questions his power and authority. The irony is that the more shots he fires off at his supposed enemies, the more holes he’s blasting into himself. (Just look at his poll numbers. Pity he can’t boast about them today.) Instead of soaking up knowledge or positivity he doubles down on his rhetoric—on his spongy self–and comes up dry.

Wow, I’ve really enjoyed my metaphors today. I wish I had more time to opine, but I’m reluctant to give over my power and energy to such a spongy, coreless individual. Sometimes I just can’t help myself, though. Sometimes I wish I could just fire off some good old fashioned ridicule in his ever expanding, tangerine face. It’s frightening that he’s running for the highest office in the land. It’s frightening that he got past better qualified candidates who foolishly cross cut themselves. Power-addled candidates with stars in their eyes, who simply couldn’t give up their quest, even at the expense of the nation they purported to love. The media is even more frightening. They practically handed Trump the nomination with millions of dollars of free coverage. And a free pass. We the People need to call him on his bullshit. I’m sure I will break my promise yet again, and complain about him very soon. I just can’t help myself.