The Worst People in America: Donald Trump

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To celebrate July 4th, the Weeklings Editorial Board brings you an in-depth look at the least acceptable among us. Although only living figures were considered, space was limited and deliberations were intense. In the end, there were fifteen good men (and women, but mostly men) chosen. God bless this great land.

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LET US FORGET the hair at the outset, for the hair makes the clown, and the clown’s secret job is to distract us from the nature of pure evil.

Also too, the smarmy Jersey-fuckface accent, the granite head and vaginal lips, the bearing that in any context or mood projects a nearly Grecian ode to unearned certainty. If Donald Trump were this minute pinned to the agar and dissected by a high school biology class, it would be discovered that he is mainly comprised of impacted fructose, random giblets, pulped copies of The Art of the Deal, delusional self-regard, and real creamery butter.

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No, I am not staring at my totally hot assistant adjusting her thong just off-camera, this is a live shot of me intimidating a bunch of Saudis into buying twenty-six tons of exclusive Trump Sand at a major profit.

Further assessment of Donald Trump is less a question of research, analysis, or even math—it’s confessing the ease of the target. To point out the man’s near-biblical hubris, failed business ventures, incomplete grasp of sentence structure, and ludicrous physical appearance is like shooting fish in an avant-garde performance piece about fish shooting. What’s the point? The fact that Trump exists, on an hour-to-hour basis, is likely damnation enough.

But it’s also the core of his genius: Donald Trump is ultimately fortified by the fact that he doesn’t seem to realize he’s Donald Trump.

It’s a crafty and devious stratagem, to inure oneself from all commentary by understanding none of it, to parry jokes with the tempered-steel defense of always being the butt of them, to defuse contempt by regularly exceeding your previous level of contemptuousness.

Perhaps it is in this way we can conclude that Donald Trump, more than any other public figure, is the quintessential American. In the same way that the rest of the world knows we are a big, dumb, insecure bully whose claims of exceptionalism are exaggerated, whose politicians are ignorant and self-serving, and even whose constitution is a contradictory and outdated document, we know that Trump’s very Trump-ness is the one metric we can count on being accurate. There’s nothing fraudulent about the utter fraudulence of the wigged ham. He may be an asshole, but he’s our asshole, and, actually, he’s pretty sure you’re the one who’s an asshole.

Who’s to say he isn’t right?

It’s the coterie of Trump supporters and apologists who remain perplexing. Who actually likes Donald, aside from jaded escorts, Todd Palin, and bribed construction inspectors? Have you ever met this fictional Pro-Trump Guy in a bar? On a bus? Emptying the ashtrays after a church basement meeting? Sure, we all have our particular, if not peculiar, tastes. Some people actually claim to listen to Phillip Glass, or read David Foster Wallace. It’s possible there really is this as-yet-unfracked groundswell of support for The Man Who Made Atlantic City What it is Today. Not to mention The Man’s Whose Last Serious Utterance Took Place at Least a Year Before the Culkin Family Puberty.

But haven’t we all evolved in the interim?

Yeah, probably not.

Trumpfact: Donald bought the USFL New Jersey Generals, sold them, and then bought them back again at a loss right before the league went under. He decided not to hire legendary coach Don Shula because Shula asked for a condo in Trump Towers as part of the deal.

Hey, do you remember 1989’s Tour de Trump? Well, no one else does either, mainly because it folded after one race, a contest that featured the presumptive European winner inexplicably veering off a well-known and well-marked course at the last second, allowing an American rider to win instead. While these days regarded as conspiracy theory even Building 7 and Kaczynski enthusiasts won’t touch, it’s still possible certain Atlantic City bookies did pretty well on the outcome of the race.

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No, I don’t ride a bike, but I could. It would be a gold bike. White gold. I’d win every race. If I wanted to. What, so that guy thinks he’s fast? Listen, here’s the Art of the Spoke: you peddle faster. I can do that. Totally. I am the Trump Zephyr. Taste my wind, Rosie. On the other hand, fuck it, I hate to sweat. Plus, helmets are for Germans.

Do you remember when Trump divorced Marla Maples and a few weeks later she very publicly said, “Donald was the best sex I ever had.” What do you suppose the odds are that particular utterance was paid for, or even included in the settlement? Also, if someone gave you six months to come up with a list of names for the fictional repository of Donald Trump’s mostly fictional erection, is it even possible to invent one better than Marla Maples?

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Please, merciful God, invent a brand of bleach strong enough to wash these stains away.

This is a son whose father left him extreme wealth, and then spent a lifetime acting self-made, as if only through mastery of the Art of the Total Loss could all those shoddily built casinos have imploded. Plus, the 27,000 NYC properties he was left in the will. Few other Americans could have made it through the 80’s so successfully sporting an orange Marcel and only 27,000 properties with which to slowly build their empire. It’s said that George Bush was born on third base but thought he hit a triple, which means Donald Trump was born on W. 73rd and thought he hit a stripper.

So he ran right out and married one of the Gabor sisters.

 

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I am a human blood diamond.

And flew around on this jet, whose modest branding helped numerous control towers decide which incoming flight to re-direct onto the runway with the catastrophic oil spill.

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Land this shit now, we’re out of macadamias.

As an avowed proponent of the “pick yourself up by the bootstraps” school of belittling the less fortunate, Don’s educational record is worth noting. He attended the Kew-Forest school for young scions. Then Fordham. Then Wharton. Pretty much the same pedigree most welfare moms and resource-sucking immigrants start out with, but fail to take advantage of, due to a lack of iron will or perseverance.

Trumpfact: Donald Trump: former financial adviser to Mike Tyson.

If Trump has any identifiable skill, it’s as the CEO of Trump Is Better Than You, Inc. He also has massive holdings in Let Me Prove it By Naming Another Shitty Building After Myself LLC. His stock in I Am Blind to My Personal Garishness.com is worth a small fortune. But it pales in comparison to the valuation of his rapidly expanding start-up, I Will Do Or Say Anything, No Matter How Transparently Stupid or Aggressively Cuntish, if it Will Cause Even One More Person to Look at Me.

RecentTrumpQuote: We have a five billion dollar (Obamacare) website. I have so many websites … I hire people. They do a website. It costs me three dollars.

And then there’s the vaunted Trump University. Which, as a matter of full disclosure, I happen to be a graduate of. Where I majored in abstract dance, with a minor in the utilization of negative space in Weimar-era sculpture.

"Delivers the best in business education." Also, delivers the best in charging 29% interest on loans for a totally useless degree that haunts you from year to year,  job to job, finally grinding you down every month until you turn 62 and exhausted, finally giving up and applying for Trump Assisted Suicide at a very attractive rate.

Also delivers the best in charging 29% interest on loans for totally useless degrees that haunt former students from year to year, job to job,  grinding them down until they turn 62 and exhausted, finally giving up and applying for Trump Assisted Suicide at a very attractive rate.

Trump has succeeded in marketing the Trump name on a vast number of products, including Trump Model Management, Trump Princess Yacht, Trump Restaurants, Trump Buffet, Trump Financial, Trump Ice Cream Parlor, GoTrump, the Donald J. Trump Signature Collection, Trump magazine, Trump Shuttle, Donald Trump the Fragrance, Trump Golf, Trump Chocolate, Trump Productions, Trump Institute, Trump the Game, Trump Home Furnishings, Trump Books, Trump Marina, Trump Ice, Trump Mortgage, Trump Vodka, and Trump Steaks.

Seriously, you haven’t lived until you’ve crammed a raw Trump porterhouse down your gullet and then followed it with nine shots of Trump-infused Trump vodka. And then the next morning soaked down the stains in the hallway carpet with Trump the Fragrance.

RecentTrumpQuote: When was the last time anybody saw us beating, let’s say, China in a trade deal? They kill us. I beat China all the time.

Trumpfact: Donald Trump has written eighteen books.

There are any number of really smart people who think Donald is not a billionaire. That he is, in fact, a walking shell game, a monorail-style huckster who moves assets incessantly, from one failed golf course or casino in Dubai to the next. When Donald sued Timothy O’Brien, a New York Times writer with the temerity to question his finances, Donald lost badly, not in small part because he insisted his “brand” was a large part of his fortune. The Judge disagreed. Forbes claims Trump exaggerated his net worth by a mere 100% during his much-admired Mexican Rapist Speech.

RecentTrumpQuote: When Mexico sends its people, they’re not sending their best. They’re sending people that have lots of problems. They’re bringing drugs. They’re bringing crime. They’re rapists. And some, I assume, are good people.

This painting reportedly hangs in Trump’s Florida home. Which, if nothing else, makes you wonder why he’s so hot for Dan Quayle.

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Love-forty, your serve.

Trumpfact: In 2014 he bought the storied Doonbeg Golf Club in Ireland and immediately re-named it Trump International Golf Links.

Trumpfact: Trump intentionally owns Miss USA and Miss Universe.

Trumpfact: Four of his businesses have filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy.

Trumpfact: Neil Young is a big fan.

Finally, Donald Trump likes to run for president. In fact, he pretended to do so in 1988 (“The Ayatollah Khomeini makes Mikhail Gorbachev look like a baby”), 2000 (“It’s a very great possibility I will run”), and 2012 (“I am well acquainted with winning.”) before dropping out of each. (“I would’ve crushed Obama. It would’ve been easy.”)

Later that year, Trump attempted to host a republican candidate debate, which everyone dropped out of until even Michele Bachmann refused to attend.

The real question is: how do other mainstream Republican candidates, as well as the majority of the party apparatus, continue to maintain a cowardly and shameful silence in the face of someone so plainly using them for his own self-aggrandizement, and in process making a mockery of the process?

Aw, shucky ducky.

It has not gone unnoticed that within a week of completing this essay, Donald Trump announced his candidacy for president in 2016, once again forcing this writer into a mixture of giddy disbelief and additional unpaid labor. Those who did not go unpaid, however, were several actors that Trump hired from a talent agency to loudly support him during his campaign announcement. They got $50 each to yell things like, “We love you!” and “Donald!”, two phrases that otherwise rarely occur together in the natural world.

In fact, as of last night, Donald has enjoyed a nice bump in the polls, stomping all over virtually unelectable school bus fires like Chris Christie, Bobby Jindahl, and Rick Perry. He even placed second behind Dick Van Patten body-double Jeb Bush, in both a New Hampshire and FOX News poll.

Trumpfact: Oddly, in the long history of generational dynasties that governed their empires to untold glory and riches, including the Claudians, Mings, and Plantagenets, none has ever been helmed by a man named “Jeb.”

If nothing else, continued solid poll numbers will guarantee Trump an invitation to the Republican debates, providing a national stage for him to interrupt while Rick Santorum tries to explain how the Pope suddenly turned into Noam Chomsky, and say things like:

RecentTrumpQuote: I will build a great wall — and nobody builds walls better than me, believe me —and I’ll build them very inexpensively. I will build a great, great wall on our southern border, and I will make Mexico pay for that wall. Mark my words.

Hey, if you’ve ever watched an episode of Celebrity Apprentice, you’re a sucker. If you’ve played on one of his golf courses, you’re an accessory rube. If you’ve gambled in one of his casinos, you’ve no doubt contracted lobster salmonella. Donald Trump is the epitome of the arrogance that sent us into Iraq, the greed that allowed investors to sleep at night without questioning Bernie Madoff’s returns, the deregulation and subsequent bailout of Bear Sterns, the moral stain of sub-prime mortgages, the racial pandering of the Birther movement, and the pomposity of continuing to run for an office that you cannot win, with money you did not earn, while advocating policies even Lester Maddox thought were unnecessarily divisive.

RecentTrumpQuote: I will be the greatest jobs president that God ever created.***

With apologies to all the other essays in this series, and with the full acknowledgement that he is less a candidate than a self-immolating cartoon, it must be said, loudly and without equivocation, that Donald Trump is the biggest dick in America.

If only because he is the soul of the America that the rest of us are too weak not to be.

 

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***J.P. Powers & Associates TruthCheck: Very likely true. None of the lesser jobs-presidents that God has ever created were willing to go on the record to defend their jobs-iness. Also, God, mostly by dint of not existing, was unable to comment by press time.

 

 

Sean Beaudoin

About Sean Beaudoin

Sean Beaudoin (@seanbeaudoin) is the author of five novels, including The Infects and Wise Young Fool. His new short story collection, Welcome Thieves, is just out with Algonquin Books.
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2 Responses to The Worst People in America: Donald Trump

  1. A squealing, infantile, egomaniacal simpleton unencumbered by the tiniest shred of self awareness, this extraordinary individual is literally beyond parody. I’ve considered setting up a Twitter account called something imaginative like Ronald T. Dump (tagline: I am a reasonable man) in which I re-write each of Trump’s tweets in the style of a human being with a sense of perspective and a grasp of reality.

    So far it seems I can’t be arsed.

    Here in Britain, “trump” is polite slang for flatulence. Trump Links, I suppose, are sausages that give you gas.

  2. Patrick T. Kilgallon says:

    It is not true that he is useless as a piece of shit. We can grow important things like flowers and food from shit and build bombs from the ammonium nitrate that is found in dried shit. With Donald Trump , we can’t really do anything with him unless we buried him, dead or alive, and use his eventfully decomposing body to create new life.

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