Donald Trump’s State of the Union address was a blast from the past. A postcard from saner times. Like an icon that somehow survived the Muslim rape of Constantinople, we could glimpse from behind the graffiti and crudely slathered plaster a shadow of something good. Something human and normal, which still remained to us, to which we could cling, even as all around us the shrieks of fanatics and apocalypse-mongers drown out most rational thought.
Imagine, a president speaking to his countrymen about the welfare of their nation. Pointing to the fact that their fellow Americans are thriving. That the jobless are finding work. That those who’d despaired of work are once more seeking it. That deaths from despair and addiction are finally falling. And their foreign fanatical enemies’ cynical schemes for raping and killing the innocent are failing. Because he has carefully targeted the masters of terror, without killing thousands of innocent civilians, as previous (more “idealistic”) presidents had for decades.
How quaint. How retro. To highlight war heroes of every race and background. And honor those Americans who’d fallen in stupid wars this president didn’t start, but plans to end. To rescue poor Americans from what he candidly labeled “failed government schools.” Then reunite brave soldiers with their lonely wives and children. And grant to a great patriot like Rush Limbaugh who might very well be dying the recognition that he deserves. ….
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