Still my favorite name to drop, after a long lifetime, Cary Grant said "Hate will keep you alive longer than love will." So I believe Donald Trump may live forever.
There seems to be absolutely no secret subtext in his rants. It is all right out there: loathing, loathing and loathing. That the seemingly least insane of his cohorts should have endorsed him, is the saddest demonstration of where the Republicans have gone. That my father, Lew the Mayor, as my friend Mel Brooks used to call him, should be relegated to the Afterlife at this moment seems the harshest punishment for those whose greatest joy was inflicting pain. That seems a harsh pronumciamento on my part, but apparently it comes from someplace really deep, where I assume my subconscious originates.
Having just come from a luxuriant lunch, brain-wise as opposed to food, with my favorite friend from my political youth, Alice Hartman later Henkin, I am in a state of complacent terror at what is possibly going to happen to our world, as initiated by our country, at the possible victory of Trump, originally Trumpf, which gives you some idea of how it should really be pronounced, with a sneer and dismissal of humanity included. If he wins, it will be a triumphf.
Alice was the smartest political mind in our class, the one with whom I watched the Army-McCarthy hearings upstairs in whatever that room was in the Deanery when there was a new TV of the day that actually played during the day. And we suffered and sorrowed over what could still actually have happened in spite of how crazy we knew McCarthy was. That in one lifetime there could actually have emerged, risen, and possibly triumphed someone who was not only crazier but also managed to be more foolish, though in a far more theatrical way, is, from the directorial standpoint, unthinkable.
But only of course if you are capable of thinking, which, apparently the Republicans are not. Wanting only to win, they do not seem to see how much we have to lose.