Trump Has No Friends

Trump has hangers-on, like Don King, but no real friends that I can see. He’s often surrounded by family members who gaze at him vacantly, adoringly, like Pat Nixon used to look at Dick. HIs surrogates had to sell tickets to his New Year’s bash at Mar-a-Lago. He doesn’t have a coterie of people who’d want to be with him and Melania to ring in the New Year. I don’t think he particularly cares about his lonely life, but I wonder if she does?

He continues to taunt the losers in the presidential election — I’m sure you saw his latest tweet. He also apparently threw someone off his golf course in Florida who wrote a book he didn’t like. What a vain, thin-skinned man.

Some of my regular blog readers have suggested that for my mental health, and theirs, I should stop writing about Trump, stop reading the political news, and just let it be. I understand what they are saying and I appreciate the concern. Here’s why I’m not going to do that: we can’t allow ourselves to slip into the fantasy that there’s anything normal about this man, or his presidency, and if we just grit our teeth one day it will be over. The Nightly Business News on PBS is treating Trump simply as another variable to be taken into account when investing. Perhaps that’s appropriate in the limited world of business. But the rest of us can’t do that. Lives, our integrity as a nation, our core democratic values, are at stake.

I don’t get all worked up about what he might or might not do — I don’t think even he knows, until the moment presents itself. But I do want to continue to point out the ways in which his stewardship of the presidency is for sale to the highest bidder, or the biggest flatterer, with a big dose of cruelty and narcissism thrown in. We have to continue to bear witness to that, and to fight it as best we can.

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