Thursday, July 06, 2017

When The Gong Gets Tough, The Tough Go Golfing

There's been a lot of talk coming from the White House recently about how tough our "President" is. We have been told this is why he hits back when he is attacked. Because he's so darn tough and all. I'm not exactly sure where being tough on Twitter or the professional wrestling circuit stacks up in the world leader courage meter, but he certainly seems to have an abundance of energy to throw around that playing tennis and golf isn't managing.
I'm pretty sure he wishes he had a war on which he could unleash some of his bulgy seventy-one year old testosterone. Apologies for any images that phrase may have evoked, but this is a guy who seems to be spoiling for a fight. Fake news organizations, obstructing Democrats, cable TV hosts, Muslims. He won't get to be a truly big shot until there's real blood in the water. And in that instant, my guess is that Donald Trump would not back down. Not because he's so tough or because he's so crazy. He is, as the late poet once wrote, "The Perfect Warrior King."
I wish I was the warrior king in every language that I speak
Lord over all that I survey, and all that I see I keep
Power omnipresent, undiminished, uncontrolled
With a message; violent fury at the center of my soul
I wish I was a warrior king; inscrutable, benign
With a faceless charging power always at my command
Footsteps so heavy that the world shakes
My rage instilling fear
Yet cautious firm but fair and good
The perfect warrior king
I wish I installed angles in every subject's house
Agents of my goodness no one would be without
A steak on every plate, a car for every house
And if you ever crossed me
I'd have your eyes put out
You don't exist without me; without me you don't exist
And if logic won't convince you then there's always this:
I'm bigger, smarter, stronger, tougher
Yet sensitive and kind
And though I could crush you like a bug
It will never cross my mind
It wouldn't cross my mind to your neck
Or rip out your vicious tongue
It wouldn't cross my mind to snap your leg like a twig
Or squash you like some slug
You are a violent messenger
And I'm not above your taunts
And if you hit me you know I'll kill you
Because I'm the warrior king

And in this way, Lou Reed foretold the coming of the Beast we call Trump. Sorry I wasn't listening close enough, Lou. 

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