Does anyone remember when all of the existing ambassadors were directed to be gone from their posts by Noon January 20? It was big news right at Christmas, but faded into the background behind the other 1,000 things to happen since.
In retrospect this wasn't a show of gross incompetence and inexperience. It was step one towards the new paradigm. They aren't just consolidating power, they are consolidating communication.
If you want to talk to Trump, you're going to get Trump unfiltered. Not some weak willed negotiating College girl with a Masters, fluency in 11 languages, and 20 years diplomatic experience. No, you're going to get The Man or one of his surrogates.
"Dial 9 for the Alt-Right Neo-Nazi's office, or please hold so you can go fuck yourself."
DT is used to being the face of his brand. He lives and works in the same building. Trump tower as a business and as a residence were indistinguishable. I don't expect him to do a lot of traveling to meet with leaders. Leaders will be expected to come to him. You don't like it? Tough shit.
Imagine DT relaxed, mindlessly eating Doritos while watching the No Spin Zone. Ruling the world from his recliner. The only information he receives comes from Steve Bannon, the TV, and his limited imagination where 1984,120 Days of Sodom, and Garden of Earthly Delights are depictions of paradise.
A dusting of Dorito spice powder is smeared over The Button, as he fiddles with it mindlessly. He is enjoying the anticipation of waiting for O'Reilly to report something alarming about China.
His thumb lifts, then relaxes. "Not tonight, Jina," he murmurs as he drifts off to an insurance ad. "Only tweets for you tonight. Next time."
This is Mr. Kemp. Blogger's commenting system hates me (it's mutual), so I'm just giving up and going anon.ReplyDelete
This is one of the finest fever dreams I've ever read. And scariest? And most plausible.