Remember the bestselling book RICH DAD, POOR DAD? Trump is the cool, rich surrogate Dad, the guy who takes you to a whorehouse on your 16th birthday and teaches you how to hold your liquor. Jeb! Bush is your uncool biological Dad, who urges you to put some of your lawn mowing money in a savings bank.
Or we could do high school. Trump is the king of the jocks–rich, good looking, smart, and a crappy student because he doesn’t need good grades, the world is his oyster and he knows it. Bernie Sanders is the history teacher who tells you that Lincoln didn’t really free the slaves–for a certain set of cerebral idealists, his toughmindedness and his moral consistency are life-changingly inspiring. And Hillary is the school principal–an authority figure whose job requires her to tolerate the occasional Bernie Sanders, but who ultimately answers to the Poor Dads who pay her salary.
Rubio is the despised president of the student council, the kid that mothers wish their daughters would want to date. Or we can do pop culture. In that case he’s Fabian or the Monkees–the corporately-created love-idol who only looks like Elvis or the Beatles, but deep down is so uncool that even Poor Dad is embarrassed by him.
I predict that cool Rich Dad walks away with everything, just like he says he will. Come November, there’s going to be so much winning that you’ll want to throw up.
All this talk of highschool reminds me that I was 16 the summer that Nixon resigned. The war in Vietnam was still going, and a president had been driven out of office. Withal, the clamor of self-congratulation was deafening. “My fellow Americans,” the one-time football star, flying saucer-investigating Michigan congressman, and unelected Vice President Gerald Ford said at his inauguration as our unelected President, “our long national nightmare is over.”
Our Constitution works; our great Republic is a government of laws and not of men. Here the people rule. But there is a higher Power, by whatever name we honor Him, who ordains not only righteousness but love, not only justice but mercy.
Forty-two years later, we’re back in nightmare territory again. Come to think of it, that’s a good thing to pray for, as our country lurches towards Fascism.
Mercy, I mean.