Watching the daily Trump meltdowns, each worse than the last, reminds me of watching a late toilet trainer. You know the kid – he or she is the one who suddenly disappears into the corner to cop a squat, usually accompanied by a devilish look. The kid knows damn well that it’s far more comfortable to sit on the pot than to fill up a diaper, but he or she is just scared of the next step in life. Being a big kid is just no fun, and they need a few more shits in their Huggies before they’re ready to move on.
I always thought that Trump would finally put on his big boy pants, crack a briefing book, and hire a couple of adults to run his campaign. I figured it would have happened before now, but the election is still months away. He could do it any day of the week, and McConnell, Ryan and the rest of those assholes who only want to win would forgive him in an instant. The bar is so fucking low: shut up for a day after 49 people are slaughtered; don’t call Obama an ISIL collaborator, and keep your racist hate away from sitting Federal judges. For bonus points: hire a couple of fundraisers, open a campaign headquarters, and plan your events more than a day in advance.
For someone in Trump’s position, these few acts are no more difficult than mounting a toilet to defecate. Yet he seems simply unable to do it. Josh Marshall, who has been one of the most level-headed observers of Trump during this cycle, thinks that Trump will never change. Marshall has a good track record, but I’m still left with the simple observation that we all stop loading up our pants one day. My question is whether that day, if it comes, will be far enough away from the election to make a difference.
At Some Point You Stop Pooping YourselfPost + Comments (159)