A Trump Presidency
With our economy in shambles, it’s not surprising that many people are latching onto the idea of a Donald Trump presidency. (The other corporate titan running, Mitt Romney, is worth only two hundred million, and much of this fortune, I have to believe, will be mercifully dissipated in the coming months, ruling out the possibility of him running in 2016). It’s unfortunate that Trump’s fortune is so large (if you believe his estimation of it), for if it were only 500 million or so one could conceivably see him exhausting it by the time Super Tuesday comes around. Now there is a reality television show worth watching: Donald Trump’s new life as a pauper. He might, in one of the episodes, apply for a job as a bellboy at one of his former hotels.
The only argument for a Trump presidency is that he knows how to run a business. (Let’s forget, for the moment, his multiple bankruptcies). The economy, we must remember, will recover with or without Mr. Trump’s intercession. Let us suppose after Mr. Trump’s first year in office, the unemployment rate falls to five percent. (This assumes he brings his Midas touch to the White House, but Trump’s financial powers, unlike the much, much richer Buffet’s, come and go). Suddenly, the reason we elected Mr. Trump is no longer cogent. A patient dismisses his doctor after he is cured, but we would not be able to dismiss Mr. Trump. No, we would have to endure him for another three, potentially seven years.
Besides his wife, who would instantly become the most beautiful first lady ever, how would these three years be made tolerable to thinking men and women? Even those who defend Trump recognize he is an insufferable, pompous ass who, I imagine, refuses to read biographies that he is not the subject of and novels in which not even one character reminds him of himself. How absurd it is for a man who has been talking about himself his whole life to suddenly start talking about America! The perpetual pronoun on his lips is “I”, and now we are to take seriously his transition to “we”? There is a regrettable tendency of many self-made men—and Trump is not one of them—to praise their native land to the extent that it made them rich. The Horatio Alger story is fine and good, but one does get a little nauseous when it’s delivered by Mr. Trump. Every year, as I peruse the Forbes 400 list, I’m inclined to think that Americans would do well to make some of these men poor. I, for one, do my best by not patronizing any of Trump’s hotels. This, however, is an easy sacrifice, seeing as I couldn’t afford a night in one of them.
What, really, is there to be said for Trump besides the fact that he made it big? There are other ways to find out if a man has ability than by simply looking at his bank account. We will, I am confident, laugh Trump off the stage, just as we laughed Perot, Whitman, and Forbes off of it. This is not to say that all billionaires are vacancies; it just so happens Trump is.