the tired ramblings of a narcissistic bitter old man
the tired ramblings of a narcissistic bitter old man
sad, indeed
As many of you know, I am not a fan of Donald Trump. I may not despise him so much that I think we should cut him from Home Alone 2, but I think he’s a narcissist, an empty-headed, cold-hearted, deeply self-centered man who has no true beliefs other than a belief in himself—and not the kind of belief that gives you the courage and confidence to do great things, but the kind of belief that makes you lash out at anyone you perceive as a threat. He’s a remorseless liar who despises his own followers and more of a showman than an entrepreneur.
Trump was a bad president (most are) and corrupt (again, nothing new) and while I don’t hold much, if any, regard for the office of the president, even I was stunned at his lack of regard for basic human decency. It’s one thing when you’re a reality TV star and a celebrity billionaire; it’s another when you’re supposed to lead the country through good times and bad. I did appreciate the fact that he didn’t start any new wars, and that he shook things up a bit, but I wish he’d done it for the right reasons. I wish he’d been Bernie Sanders, basically.
Still, I feel . . . pity when I watch this clip. I imagine a decade from now we’ll see some similar footage. Trump will be older, more gaunt, his hair even thinner and his shoulders stooped. Maybe he’ll be in a chair or a wheelchair. His voice will crack and wobble. But even though he loses his train of thought from time to time, his bitterness will only have intensified. Not just at the “stolen” election but at the deeper affronts he’s suffered. After all, his deepest motivating quality is self-pity and the kind of bitterness that engenders.
He wanted to be liked. He wanted to be one of the cool kids in New York’s glitzy, glamorous world of the ultra-wealthy. He wanted to be loved by high society and instead all he got was, in the parlance of another famous loser, “a basket of deplorables.”
But pity is not exactly the same thing as feeling sorry for someone. I shed no tears for Mr. Trump. He made his choices. That they did not bring him joy and fulfilment should come as no surprise. That all the money in the world, all the anger of his base, or the politics of schadenfreude could not fill his life with meaning should shock no one. There but for the grace of God go I.
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