The level of hatred aimed at Donald Trump defies all comprehension. The man, who is after all just a human being made of flesh and blood like the rest of us, has become the scapegoat, whipping boy, call it what you will, for so many American citizens, despite the fact that he was elected and serves as their president! He is hated as much as Hitler, who murdered millions of innocent people in horrific ways. Trump has done no such thing, yet the mass hatred of him is of equal, if not greater, intensity.
Trump's family is also hated. Poor Ivanka is despised for being too pretty, too smart, too stylish, too rich, and just for having Trump for a father. No matter what she says, it is mocked and criticized by the likes of Joy Behar, that do-nothing, know-nothing, no-talent TV talk show host, which is surely the lowest thing one can be, certainly several rungs below a janitor at a highway rest stop.
Trump's wife is too beautiful, so we hate her. His sons grew up rich, so we hate them. Their wives are beautiful and rich too, so naturally we hate them. And not only do we hate them in private texts, we hate them openly on Twitter and Facebook, at dinner parties with our friends, in newspaper articles and on endless discussion panels on TV and in university classrooms. In fact, we feel pretty damn proud of our hatred, boastfully wearing it like a medal of honor.
Well guess what: I firmly believe that so much hate has to come from within. The more someone hates Trump, the more they hate themselves. It's so obvious, it's almost embarrassing. The louder someone bitches about him, the bigger the void in their own life. Remember that the next time you hear someone railing against the president.
Trump's family is also hated. Poor Ivanka is despised for being too pretty, too smart, too stylish, too rich, and just for having Trump for a father. No matter what she says, it is mocked and criticized by the likes of Joy Behar, that do-nothing, know-nothing, no-talent TV talk show host, which is surely the lowest thing one can be, certainly several rungs below a janitor at a highway rest stop.
Trump's wife is too beautiful, so we hate her. His sons grew up rich, so we hate them. Their wives are beautiful and rich too, so naturally we hate them. And not only do we hate them in private texts, we hate them openly on Twitter and Facebook, at dinner parties with our friends, in newspaper articles and on endless discussion panels on TV and in university classrooms. In fact, we feel pretty damn proud of our hatred, boastfully wearing it like a medal of honor.
Well guess what: I firmly believe that so much hate has to come from within. The more someone hates Trump, the more they hate themselves. It's so obvious, it's almost embarrassing. The louder someone bitches about him, the bigger the void in their own life. Remember that the next time you hear someone railing against the president.
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