A Suit Of Trumps

I have never read Machiavelli. Maybe it's because I was busy reading Hawthorne and Melville and Vonnegut and Homer and the Bronte sisters and Milton and on and on. Or maybe it was because the idea of "political philosophy" left me a little dry. That didn't keep me from absorbing the concept of "Machiavellian" through the cell walls of others who had taken the time to pore over the guy's work. All those other authors surely had their points of view, and their personal philosophies shine through, but none of them make me sneer as a reflex. I feel the very same way about Donald Trump. I haven't read any of his books. That could be because I don't tend to think of him as much as an author as a reptile with a hairpiece. I have also never had occasion to watch his television show. That could be because I am not a fan of reality TV or because I would rather watch the GEICO gecko if I am going to watch a lizard perform in prime time. Is that a little harsh? I don't know the man. I know of him. What I know I don't like. Maybe if I met him at a friend's barbecue, we might find a lot of common interests. Maybe he's read "Wuthering Heights." But since that seems unlikely, I'll stick with my original judgement. Especially since he seems to be gearing up for a run for the presidency of the United States. I could keep my petty objections to myself if he was just a slimy real estate mogul who seemed to lease his wives rather than marry them, but now he wants to run our country like he runs one of his luxurious casinos. Maybe he feels that his personal experience with bankruptcy gives him unique qualifications for the job. Or maybe he's just a shill for the Republican party. Here comes the Machiavelli. What if The Donald is just sticking his face in the high speed fan for the GOP, spouting all his antiquated birther nonsense in order to make anyone else who comes along behind him seem like a rational alternative. Did I just say "rational?" It's already working...