Weekend of a Wimpy Crowd for the New President


Waking up in Trump’s America, one of the first news stories I read (this morning, Sat) was how ISIS has further defaced the Roman amphitheater in Palmyra.

So much for evil winning out on beauty and that was pretty much the tone and tenor of the weekend, even though Caroline and I tried to get away from the inauguration and visited the Legion of Honor in San Francisco to drink in the beauty of that view and savor some of the paintings. We marveled at the rain-packed skies, the flashes of rainbows, the sunshine breaking through. It was almost as if the stormy firmament resonated with America’s inner turmoil.

The inauguration itself I skipped, and as you know by now, the speech was nationalist and isolationist and the raised fist were enough to make me want to puke, and things just went downhill from there. Melania’s elegant outfit was the only pretty picture of the day even though she does have the demeanor of someone who suffers from Stockholm Syndrome.

Particularly telling was that Trump’s “parade” went along streets with barely a soul in it.

The inaugural ball was cold and clinical, and the dancing… yes, privileged white people dancing to the tune of Frank Sinatra’s My Way, which is really a dirge and a great tune for a funeral as Nancy Sinatra reminded The Donald on Twitter. The first line of that song is: “And now, the end is near…”

As Caroline was getting ready to go to Chicago this morning, I picked up a glimpse of the Trumps at the National Cathedral; he was gesturing with his tiny little hands during the service as if he were at a rally and when America, The Beautiful was being played, he tried to sing along but clearly didn’t know the lyrics.

While we were dropping Caroline off at SFO which was much more tearful than we were all willing to admit, Trump was mending fences at the CIA… but then he went off topic to whine like a little bitch again about his unfair treatment by the media in front of the sacred wall with stars of fallen CIA heroes. Very poor taste.

The bee in his bonnet was that the media reported on the slim inaugural crowd which sharply underperformed in contrast to Obama’s inaugural crowds and the crowds of the Women’s Marches today. This must have irked him so much (as he was driving through DC today) that he kicked his Press Secretary into the Press Room of the White House to scold the media once again for reporting on wimpy crowds. The statement sounded more like a threat than a fitting press release and showed once more that the emperor neither has the clothes, nor the crowds to prop him up.

Let’s be real: the inaugural speech which is supposed to unite and heal the country merely pleased his base who will support him no matter what he says. So why not try a little harder to win over the majority of the voters who didn’t vote for him? Why not reach out an open hand instead of a pumped fist? Why not say something nice about Hillary, or his predecessor who showed more grace than the Holy Trinity? Why not reach out to the rest of the world to say that America will work with others to promote world peace and prosperity?

Instead it was: America First which really is code for Donald First. Isolationism is a form of narcissism, you see…

In a weekend when the country should be celebrating and the President should be riding high, and doing some healing and uniting to boot, the all-consuming topic became Trump’s fury with his wimpy inaugural crowd.


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