When It Comes to Trump, Spare Me the Details

Mine is not a popular blog. It earns no money and few comments, and has but a relative handful of readers. This is because I report the truth about people -- their foibles, inconsistencies and weaknesses -- and who the heck wants to hear that, especially since you might see yourself in what I write half the time?

Those people who do make money and "go viral" or become influencers, a concept I hardly grasp  since nobody influences me but me, are the ones telling people what they want to hear. This includes two new female comics who specialize in mocking President Trump on Youtube by lip-synching his voice and making him look silly or drunk. How they find that to be a satisfying occupation is a mystery, since I work hard at never thinking about the man. I mean really, you don't have to pay the slightest attention to him, or to that moronic Twitter; it's not illegal, at least not yet.

Our current society seems to be built on mockery, especially of our leaders, and with good reason: they are a bunch of loonies. If I changed the name of this blog to "Donald Trump Sucks," chances are I'd get lots more readers and maybe even a spot on The View or CNN.

This is a sad reality for my generation since we can remember a time when, aside from Lyndon Johnson's gallbladder surgery scar, (see photo), we actually respected them. In reality, the press kept their secrets so we could go on respecting them. It was only many years after his death that I learned John F. Kennedy, my one-time hero, was a total scumbag, screwing women in the White House while telling everyone he was going to "take a nap."