Politics & Policy

An Establishment Man Confesses His Secret Admiration for Trump

(Gage Skidmore/Flickr)

Before I say anything about Trump, I had better make my position clear: I have been a Jeb backer since I opened the black box the Establishment sent me, and the device contained within realigned my brainwaves to the proper frequency to receive direct orders from Grand Moff Priebus. I believe Jeb is the best candidate because America wants someone who reminds you of the brother-in-law who made a ton of money in stocks or something and now just does stuff, and smiles at you like he knows you’re going to ask for a loan someday, and you have no idea how many times he practiced saying no. Also, there’s an exclamation point in Jeb’s logo which, like a joy buzzer, gets people excited.

So of course I am terrified of Trump, because he is real and authentic and cares about people who feel that the system has stacked the deck against them, and no matter how many times they put quarters into the machine they’ll lose in the end. You can’t run a casino without having a deep appreciation for that emotion, after all. Also, Megyn Kelly was mean to him, and if it seems odd to some that he can’t get over it, well, when I was in high school I got a hundred dollars for Christmas and I told the cheerleader about it and she laughed and wouldn’t go out with me. I would so block her on Facebook if she friended me.

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I’m just being honest. I wish everyone were. The only reason anyone can have for opposing Trump is fealty to the do-nothing, go-along-to-get-along, warm-milk RINOs like Scott Walker — sure, Walker fought the unions, but Trump would totally fight unions even more and repeal Davis-Bacon by glaring at the law until it burst into flames, and he would disinter the bodies of former AFL-CIO leaders and have their bones ground up and mixed in the concrete used to build the Great Mexican Wall (which he would build using non-union labor). Have you been to Wisconsin? I have. At the Home Depot in the big cities some of the signs are in English and Spanish. Walker didn’t lift a finger to stop it.

Sure, Walker fought the unions, but Trump would totally fight unions even more and repeal Davis-Bacon by glaring at the law until it burst into flames.

All the establishment candidates are frauds, because they’re all politicians, and if there’s one way to fix politics, it’s with an outsider. In my home state we had Jesse Ventura, who did some good things like lowering the car tax and giving us more explosive fireworks, but what he really did was to ensure that no third-party candidate would ever be trusted with high office again. That’s not the sort of accomplishment you get from the Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum parties.

Anyway. As an establishment-beholden slug just waiting for the party to douse me with salt and tell me it’s sugar, and as someone whose admiration of Carly Fiorina’s concise rhetorical demolitions is just a cover for my secret admiration for The Donald’s ability to shoot a skeet gun at a target and hit the bullseye with at least two of the 400 pellets fired, I have to admit something: I enjoyed watching him refuse to treat Jorge Ramos with the deference one feels compelled to give our televised betters. It was like Newt in his prime, when someone asked him if he wanted paper or plastic bags, and he said he rejected the easy dichotomy. We should be exploring technologies that let you take your groceries home in a translucent polymer sling buoyed by anti-gravitational beams that use GPS to follow you to your car! It was like Jesse Ventura, who would respond to a tough question by shoving a rhetorical question down the reporter’s throat like a 19th-century naval gunner tamping shot and wad down a cannon muzzle. Then Jesse would make 16 different assertions phrased as questions and bark something conclusive and point at another reporter. Donald’s like this, times ten, plus he has billions of dollars he could turn into gold with a phone call.

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This is why I am thinking about having my “Jeb!” tattoo lasered off and replaced with henna, so I can still pass at the cocktail parties when everyone rips off their shirt and flexes their pecs so their Jeb! tats dance a little. But at least I’ll know I can wash it off when it’s safe.

Anyhoo, I wanted to say all that so the Trump folk know where I’m coming from: a place of fear and repressed love. So understand me when I say this question comes from a good and honest place. When he was questioned about building a wall along the Mexican border, Trump said it was . . .

very easy. I’m a builder. That’s easy. I build buildings that are 94 —

(RAMOS INTERRUPTION)

TRUMP: Can I tell you what’s more complicated? What’s more complicated is building a building that’s 95 stories tall.

I know, I know: He is so awesome his buildings get taller when he just talks about them. But.

Are walls and skyscrapers really analogous? As I understand a wall, it’s a long thing without many features, and a 95-story building is a tall thing with many components. That said, I have no doubt that engineers have at some point met with Mr. The Donald, laid out the skyscraper’s blueprints, and said, “We’ve got a problem. The geological surveys were wrong, and there’s just not enough bedrock to support 95 stories. We’ll have to scale it back.”

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I don’t doubt that at that moment, Trump narrows his eyes, lets the tension build, keeps his tongue as the the clock on the wall ticks — a beautiful, 19th-century clock made by one of Europe’s finest clock makers, finest pearl on the face and ivory on the sweep hand. Not that he supports killing elephants; he’s a big fan of elephants, he had a statue of one outside the Atlantic City casino, which, by the way, made more money its first year than any casino in history, the people loved it. . . . Anyway, the moment builds, the clock ticks, sweat starts on the brows of the engineers.

Trump nods. Then he speaks. “Find a way.”

“You mean — double the footings and cross-brace the structure?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

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Quick looks among the engineers: The legends are true. Another clears his throat: “We need an inertial dampening mechanism at the top of the structure, or it will sway in high winds. Right now, the design just has penthouses.”

Trump nods. “The views will be tremendous.”

“But people will be sickened by the motion of the structure.”

“The problem with America today is too many people are throwing up. I can change that.”

A sigh of relief around the table.

#related#I imagine that’s how it goes, right? That’s why I know this man is such a threat. He gets things done. I look at the rest of the candidates, and I’m pretty sure not one of them ever went on-site with a hard-hat and solved the problem of weak water pressure on the 82nd floor. If Donald Trump can built a 95-story skyscraper and have a heckler ejected in a news conference, of course he can build a wall and find every illegal and put them on a bus to wherever. He’d do it by decree, right? I am so waiting for someone to do the decree thing for stuff I secretly want.

He’ll ride a horse up Pennsylvania Avenue on Inauguration Day, right? Say he’ll ride a horse and I am off Jeb’s team in a second.

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