Europe has been forced to lay claim to its fair share of doltish and unworthy rulers (King George III, Pope John XII, King John, Caligula–are you noticing all the crazy fucks are British or Roman?) not just in pure forms of origin, but in spawning many subsequent bloodlines in countries throughout the world, the U.S. among one of the most unfortunate examples of what having European lineage of a “royal” or “aristocratic” bent can do.
While the United Kingdom loves to sustain its air of superiority for reasons only known to their own hoity-toity fancies, one must still hold the entire mass (much as the Irish and the Scottish would like to remain independent) accountable for hatching the DNA that would lead to the eventual “human being” called Donald Trump. Embodying all the worst aesthetic qualities of a Scotsman–ruddy, blonde and with small facial features–the king with a synthetic crown would later feel obliged to open up a golf course in the country he is somehow aware he descends from rather than do anything more worthwhile with his fortune (plus, a man as “burdened” as he needs a place to unwind. Several actually). Labeled Trump Turnberry and “situated” (a term that likes to make it sound quaint in the same way “nestled” would be intended to) on the coast of the Firth of Clyde in southwestern Scotland, Trump’s summer appearance there amid not only protests from the Scottish (which he felt warranted waving to them like the revered royalty he assumes other people naturally see him as), but at a time that marked one of the many heights of his cruel response to children separated from their migrant parents in detention centers, this “need” to golf came across, as usual, as being in incredibly poor taste. And yet, never one for shying away from causing further contempt and division among “his people,” Trump has proven time and time again that his best and only response to any perceived “stress” is the white man’s alleviation of golf (please don’t cite Tiger Woods as a counter-example right now).
Yes, the only other response to criticism that Trump is capable of apart from this “sport” that only attracts big butts and small penises is the other favorite white male pastime: insisting that nothing bad is happening and that, if it is, it is all the fault of someone else. The latest case in point of this? Reacting to an anonymous (what Trump pronounces as “anomanous,” sort of like a drunkard) piece published in “the failing” New York Times. Letting his misogyny rear its ugly head by indicating it was probably a woman who wrote it because of the cowardice behind the act of letting it go to print without a name attached, Trump has now become obsessed (today at least) with figuring out who did him wrong this time merely by speaking the truth–among such beautiful lines of which include, “Most are working to insulate their operations from his whims” and “It may be cold comfort in this chaotic era, but Americans should know that there are adults in the room. We fully recognize what is happening” to add to the pile of already scathing assessments of the most idiotic presidency in history.
With his feelings hurt–a.k.a. his pride wounded–over the op-ed he is now billing as “treason,” it is almost certain that we will see photos of him golfing in the next week or so, for Trump “stress” golfs in the same cliche and predictable way he probably assumes women stress eat. This time, however, maybe the U.S. government won’t have to pay £53,000 for his accommodations to one of the very institutions he profits from. Because that’s an extremely fucking expensive pint of cookie dough.
