I have an early-morning appointment, so not much time for this — though just enough to note that irony is not quite as dead as some have lamented.
In fact, in the political realm, it’s not even close to death. Nor does it scurry in the underbrush of politics, where one must be finely discerning to spot it. Not at all.
Irony is best served coldly subtle. But Donald Trump, the principal object of our political attention, is as alien to subtlety as he is ignorant of [insert infinite list here; as noted, I haven’t the time].
The bluntness hurts.
His new shtick is to denounce Democrats as “communists.” Actually, the shtick is rather old, but he has cranked up its frequency from a bas-relief to a thundering Wagnerian theme. (Pardon the metaphor mixture; hey, I’m in a hurry here.)
And yet, Trump loves commies — the real ones, that is. As demonstrated of late: His dissing South Korea while snuggling, again, with Kim Jong-un.
Trump’s too stupid to realize (an ironic accompaniment) that his love is unrequited. But that’s beside the point. The blunt, towering irony of his communist Dems denunciations is the sorryass spectacle he makes of his commie-loving self by swooning that —
China’s Marxist dictator-for-life Xi Jinping is a “great leader,” a “tremendous guy,” a “fantastic” guy —
Vladimir Putin, who longs for those wonderful days of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, is also a "great guy" (who last night murdered 15 people in a missile/drone strike on a Kyiv hospital and kindergarten) —
And of course the always lovable Kim … well, what can one say but what Trump says: Yes, that dude, too, is one “great leader.” And so “Kim Jong Un and I get along GREAT!” as he drooled on Saturday.
In Trump’s book of love, Communists + Communist Nostalgics = Great. Every goddamn time. Every orgasmic mention.
The final irony being that because, in Trump’s book, Democrats are anything but great, they can’t be communists.
Gotta run; my a.m. appt. is medical, which, in my book, means I’m always late.
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