Michael Cohen basically admitted in his testimony that 45’s presidential run was intended as a spectacular publicity stunt. He didn’t expect to get the nomination. He didn’t expect to win.
This was what I suspected, but never expected to have confirmed. I don’t think 45 is terribly smart, but I think he’s smart enough to know he’s sitting a top a mountain of dirty laundry that really wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny in both his businesses and private life. But his own narcissism would allow him to bow out, so here we are.
I never expected this confirmation, but I thought if it ever came I would feel smug about having my theory confirmed. I don’t feel smug. I am sad and disappointed.
This is about to wander. My dad was my favorite person, partially because he would put on puppet shows for me and loved to play with me as much as I him, but also partially because my mom had mental issues and was remote and less interactive. My dad worked long hours, and I cherished the short minutes I had with him. He would pull up a chair for me to stand on in the kitchen so I could “help” him make pancakes. He taught me to treat other people the way I wished to be treated. He taught me to drive. Because my mom was so reclusive, he taught me every thing I know about how to be in the world.
It’s almost inexplicable that the man I knew, the man who did those things, were he alive today would be completely devoted to Donald Trump. He would be so deep in that con that I would struggle to recognize who I was looking at. And this knowledge embarrasses me.
My life got bigger than where I grew up. It got bigger than the small sphere my parents were comfortable moving in. It was exquisitely painful when I realized how small my larger than life father had become. It made me feel wretched to hear his lapses in judgment and his lack of intellectual curiosity.
He would have been particularly susceptible to the snake oil 45 is selling. He loved Fox News and Rush Limbaugh. He rarely encountered people different from himself. He would have been so, so easy to con.
It breaks my heart to see my dad as a whole person, flaws and all. I grieved for who my child’s perception built up and my adult’s perception tore down. I grieved for what an easy mark the man who gently carried me from the car while I was sleeping and tucked me in bed ended up being.
And here I am, technically correct, and so, so sad for it.
Side note: I really hate Facebook as a corporate actor. I am trying to reduce what I share there. I think I will blog a bit more.