Shaidle Unchained

The Tepid Trumper

July 19, 2016

Multiple Pages
The Tepid Trumper

I don’t like Donald Trump on the First Amendment, don’t trust him on the Second, and positively loathe him on eminent domain. I covered that here at Taki’s in October 2012, when I was also still pissed at Trump for firing Adam Carolla on The Apprentice.

Trump says creepy crap about his daughter.

He’s vowed to bring manufacturing back to America just as corrupt, collectivist labor unions were finally in hospice; I grew up in a steel town, in the ’70s—I dread spending what’s left of my life hearing “Take This Job and Shove It” on an endless loop once millions of Americans suddenly remember why they hated that type of work in the first place. (With the added “bonus” of having to pay more for—or go without—all the stuff they used to buy so cheaply at Costco and Walmart, presuming they stay in business.)

I’m afraid he’ll turn the Map Room into the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles.

But if Donald Trump wins the presidency in November, I will literally fall to my knees and weep with relief.

I’m not proud of that. I hate feeling propelled, rather like a cat in heat, by a toxic cocktail of shallow novelty-seeking and primitive tribalism. As a conscientious, civic-minded reason to cheer a presidential wannabe, “He annoys all the right people” ranks somewhere between “It’s just time for a change” and “This’ll teach the bastards a lesson.” I know.

But 15 years after September 11—and however long it’s been since O.J., and since “global warming” became a “thing”—I just can’t cope. And drinking’s not an option.

“Being temperamentally contrarian has never been this tough to manage.”

I thought we were going to nuke Afghanistan, not build schools for inbred pedophiles with no written language—or worse, let them and their ilk into the country. I agree with Derb that “the most amazing, astounding, astonishing statistic of the 21st century is that the annual rate of Muslim immigration into the U.S.A. increased after 9/11.”

Meanwhile, millions of low-IQ Mexicans stream across your southern border, bringing their well-documented attitudes about rape, animal cruelty, drunk driving, and litter. (Can you people really not mow your own lawns or build your own decks? A serious question for another time…)

Now, switching from grapes to cotton: I figured that after Americans got electing their first black president out of their systems, they’d return to their senses—not hand the fool a second term.

The political correctness my anarchist pals and I wrote off in the late ’80s as an irritating passing fad on a par with Cabbage Patch Dolls has become, along with certain varieties of mental illness, enshrined in public policy and entrenched in quotidian intercourse.

It’s 1968 with (even) crappier music. I want it over.

Being temperamentally contrarian has never been this tough to manage. That is, I despise all the elitist snobs who denounce Trump and his followers for transparently classist reasons—but when too many people I like started liking him, I reflexively flinched as well. 

One of those people is paleolibertarian Ilana Mercer, whose new book is The Trump Revolution: The Donald’s Creative Destruction Deconstructed. In terms of Trump’s foreign policy, the “paleo” is a good fit, but surely the “libertarian” in Mercer balks at his tariff talk, right?

In the book, Mercer joins the growing chorus explaining that what we’ve been calling “free trade” at least since NAFTA is neither.

“Trump simply wants to make these agreements and organs work for the American people,” she writes, adding that “libertarian post-graduate cleverness deserves to be questioned” on these matters. Man cannot live on well-thumbed, marked-up copies of Economics in One Lesson alone, I guess.

But my pet issue is free speech, and on that I simply can’t abide Trump. Not when his gut reaction to the aborted terror attack on an exhibit of “Muhammad cartoons” in Garland, Tex., was basically “Why draw pictures like that in the first place?”

Even the target if both attacks, Pamela Geller, has forgiven Trump for that one. So has Mercer, who told me via email, “Trump has been learning on the fly…. He made up for Garland, for me, with the Muslim ban.”

I hear that a lot. My response? The only correct, instinctive response to the whole “Muhammad cartoons” “controversy” is: Hand me a pencil.

That isn’t something a grown man should have to “learn.” Along with his threats to beef up American libel laws rather than leading the tort reform revolution the country so obviously needs—no, I will never trust Trump on these all-important matters.

Then there’s Kelo, which is right up there with the Civil Rights Act and the Whiskey Rebellion in terms of making me go, “America? WTF?!”

Again via email, Mercer responds that “[l]egally, Trump’s only reasonable defense for using Eminent Domain is that the Constitution paved the way. It’s wrong. And the Constitution is wrong to do it. But then so are Republicans wrong for not challenging the Constitution, whence the power comes.”

But what are the chances that eminent domain use will decrease during a Trump administration? Are we to imagine him “evolving” on this issue, too, and, I dunno, giving back all the properties he’s seized?

Mercer’s book came out shortly before Trump picked Mike Pence for VP. She told me that firing campaign manager Corey Lewandowski was Trump’s first mistake, and choosing Pence a close second. (Last year, she slammed Pence’s refusal to condemn the “gay wedding cake Gestapo” in a memorably titled column...)

“I have a feeling that The Trump Revolution may have documented and deconstructed the heyday of The Donald,” Mercer told me. That said, Trump “has no political criminal record. He has never acted as a legislator. That gives him a good moral lead on the rest. Let’s see if he keeps it.”

The Trump Revolution isn’t slobbering, sleazy “slash” fiction, with “Trump” and “America” in place of “Kirk” and “Spock.” Mercer is candidly critical of Trump throughout, but views him, as I do, as a long-overdue catalyst for change.

Though I still say Carolla was robbed.

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