Mustn’t fumfer, Enthusiasts, or fart about. Shakespeare didn’t muck out the Aegean Stables so you could shim-sham and willy-nilly with your syntactical choices. Eisenhower said it in his famous farewell speech: Choose your words carefully, ya little puds. Still true.
Orwell knew what I’m talking about. Orwell was hip like that. Since Basketball Head got elected, all the dimwits and dummies have yammered on about 1984 and Winston and Big Brother and cabbage-stinking hallways, which is why they’re dim and dumb. Us smart fuckers know where the lotus grows, though, and it is in a different (and much shorter) work of Mr. Blair’s: his 1946 essay Politics and the English Language.
Here it is. Go read it.
One must write as simply and clearly as one is able. That’s the gist of Orwell’s brief, and it’s a hell of a gist. Never employ sesquipedalian verbalization when good ol’ short words’ll do. Abjure the Latinate; huzzah the Anglo-Saxon. There are, perhaps, 250,000 words in the English language; most of ’em are bullshit. Simply and clearly.
So: Donald Trump is a stupid, racist asshole. The sentiment can be made no simpler, nor expressed with more clarity. The sentence “Donald Trump is a stupid, racist asshole” is irreducible. Each word, as per Orwell’s instructions, is necessary and precise. Let’s break it down.
That’s the man’s name. Gotta have that in there, or no one’ll know who you’re talking about. Maybe you could just say “Trump,” but including the full name improves the rhythm of the phrasing. And maybe you could throw in that middle initial J like the Times does, but it’s superfluous; there’s only one Donald Trump, as the President has told Junior so many times.
So much depends on what the meaning of the word “is” is, and here we employ the popular verb in a tense I have just invented called the “iterational infinite,” which means that Trump = Stupid, Racist Asshole for all possible tenses. Trump was a stupid, racist asshole; Trump will be a stupid, racist asshole; Trump has been being a stupid, racist asshole; etc.
Let’s face it: there’s a lot of stupid, racist assholes out there. Trump isn’t the stupid, racist asshole. Go read any other Comment Section on the internet, or come back and read this one after the limpdicked tugnuts who worship the Swine King show up. (They always do after I write about him, and I always toss their scribblings in the trash before you can be bothered by it. AND DO YOU FUCKERS THANK ME?)
Some businesses are bonanzas, and others are marginal. A rockyroll tour, that’s a bonanza: make a whole assload of cash in a couple of months. Girl Scout cookies, too, and Sotheby’s auction house. But then you got your alternate type of commerce, which is the supermarket model. Smaller profits, but you grind ’em out day after day. And, in those marginal operations, every penny counts. The airline business is firmly in the latter category, but moreso.
Airlines, you see, have a list of fixed costs as long as your pecker. Gotta buy the planes, and insure ’em, and maintain ’em to legal standards: nowhere to save a buck there. Planes don’t fly themselves, and pretzels don’t pass themselves out, so you gotta hire pilots and flight attendants, and–here’s that damned government getting in the way of the market again–and you need to have a certain amount of each on every flight. Airports get paid, too: they charge every time you take off or land, and tax you a certain amount per passenger. Non-negotiable, all of it. You’re deep in the hole before the plane takes off.
So where can you save a buck or two? Gas. The less fuel your plane burns, the more money you make, and the best way to conserve fuel is lose weight. Thinner, and therefore lighter, carpet could put tens of thousands of dollars back into the company’s coffers. Take a half-ounce of padding from every seat; that shit adds up. There are men and women who have spent their entire careers figuring out how to make passenger planes weigh less.
This was the summer of 1989, and Donald Trump had had a very good 80’s, which makes sense if you remember that the 80’s were, essentially, Satanic. He had just built Trump Tower, and bought the Plaza (he sold it soon after for a loss of $83 million) and Atlantic City’s Taj Mahal (which he would sell for four cents on the dollar). Eastern Airlines was going bankrupt; Turnip stepped in and snapped up their shuttle service, which ran between Boston, New York, and DC and catered to a limited, but lucrative and loyal market: business fuckers. People far too important to spend four hours driving or sitting on a train. Movers, shakers, that sort. The type of fellow with an expense account and a recent haircut. Women in shoulder pads who weren’t afraid to butt heads. Not owners; owners have private planes, or they can go about their travels in a more leisurely fashion, knowing that the meeting can’t start until they get there. No, these passengers were journalists with book deals, and lawyers who would one day be–but were not yet–partners at their firms, and State Department emeriti with sinecures at the Kennedy school.
You’re doing that thing again where you wander away from the point.
Yeah, but I do it entertainingly.
You’re your biggest fan.
Someone has to be.
Get back to it.
Businesses, ones that are run by people who aren’t biscuitheads, do all kinds of market research. What’s the most important thing we do? the surveys ask. Why do you patronize us instead of the guy across the street? Eastern Airlines had two decades of market research about their shuttles, and when they asked their customers what it was that they cared most about, the answer was always the same: If you tell me the plane is gonna land at 8:34 am, then the plane needs to land at 8:34 am. Everything else is cheesecake. Oh, and there should be cheesecake on the snack cart. Predictability! That was what the shuttle customer demanded.
Trump immediately gold-plated the sinks.
Then he replaced plastic moldings with maple, and demanded meal service, and chromed all the belt buckles. Those who have been reading closely will recognize these touches as being specifically what no one had asked for, ever. Trump Shuttle’s market share remained the same as when it was called Eastern Airlines, but now the planes were heavier and–oops–oil prices skyrocketed in anticipation of the Gulf War. In ’91, Trump relinquished control of the assets to his bankers so they’d forgive the debts.
So, like I said, he’s stupid.
Trump is racist. Anyone who argues this fact is also racist. Nuff said.
One can be stupid without being an asshole. Forrest Gump, for example, or Gronk. How about Britney, bitch? Britney Spears is dumber than a possum wearing a hockey helmet, but you won’t find a bigger heart than the one beating in her chest.
And–though some may disagree with my reasoning–I believe that one can be racist without being an asshole. Plenty of folks hate black people but still remember their manners.
The definition of asshole is thus: The asshole is essentially selfish. The asshole performs at its own schedule; any attempt to force the asshole to action results in painful repercussions. The asshole does not know proportional response, and it will burn down the city to avenge a slight. The asshole must be treated well, and gently, and it still may turn on you in a second. The asshole gives not a whit for your dignity, just its needs. The asshole is without grace; it is blunt, but not charmingly so.
Many U.S. Presidents have been assholes. The Civil Rights Act only became law because of how enormous an asshole Lyndon Johnson was. Harding couldn’t cum unless he was beating hobos. Nixon…well, you know about Nix. They were pikers compared to Trump. Dabblers, dilettantes. Enthusiasts, they just didn’t have the gape. He is a quantum leap in executive assholery.
20 corpses. This is a good number for a big-city mortuary, but a terrible one for a Walmart. Walmarts should have no corpses at all. The cops and firefighters carried ’em all out of the store, but for a little while there were 20 corpses in the Walmart. Bunch more got hurt. Guy with an AK-47 walked in and started shooting. Making 20 corpses in a very short amount of time is precisely what the AK-47 was designed for, and the weapon performed predictably.
And now the President flies out to console the bereaved. This is all the President can do, because the Constitution says everyone can have a machine gun, and so he throws himself into the role. Clinton was the master. He’d be crying before he got off Air Force One. Both Bushes were superb at standing over hospital beds. Remember Obama at Sandy Hook?
Not this prize of a mammal. No, Donny had his aides edit together a highlight reel of his visit to the hospital–hunching over the wounded in their beds, double-thumbs with a lineup of white nurses–and used it as a fundraising ad. Christ, what an asshole.
Thus: QED: Donald Trump is a stupid, racist asshole.