PERSPECTIVE FROM THE 19TH HOLE: This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf. Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all of my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist. This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write. I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf. The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie. And it is where you want to be on a golf course.
Sometimes a column in a national newspaper is so good that I decide to reprint it in my blog.
Such an occasion occurred this morning when I read a piece by Kathleen Parker that appeared in the Washington under the same headline that leads this blog.
It’s time for the brat in the White House to go. The “brat,” of course, is Donald Trump who continues to boost himself over the country, even as he solidly bears the title of “loser.” His refusal to accept the result of the election will continue through January 20 when Joseph Biden takes over as president.
And Parker reports below that, not only will Trump not concede, he won’t attend the inauguration and, instead, will hold a rally in Florida that competes with the formal transfer of power. Thus, the title “brat.”
Parker writes a twice-weekly column on politics and culture. In 2010, she received the Pulitzer Prize for Commentary for “her perceptive, often witty columns on an array of political and moral issues, gracefully sharing the experiences and values that lead
her to unpredictable conclusions.” A Florida native, Parker started her column in 1987 when she was a staff writer for the Orlando Sentinel. She joined the Washington Post Writers Group in 2006.
So, here is her column on Trump, “THE BRAT.”
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In the film version of Dan Brown’s “Angels and Demons,” the most memorable scene features the pope’s camerlengo, or right-hand man, hijacking a helicopter from St. Peter’s Square, along with, implausibly, a vessel containing antimatter.
The camerlengo ostensibly intends to save the Vatican from an antimatter attack plotted by various church conspirators. In fact, the plotter is the camerlengo himself. What matters today is that the camerlengo bails out just before the chopper explodes and, wearing a parachute, floats celestially to the basilica roof, where he kneels in prayer and is proclaimed a hero-savior.
I’ve ruined the movie if you haven’t seen it, but stand by: Another movie about getaways is in the making, starring President Trump, who is said to be plotting a dramatic exit from the White House — aboard Marine One in his last government-subsidized chopper ride, followed by a flight to Florida for a rally timed opposite the inauguration ceremony of President-elect Joe Biden.
What a sad little man.
Of course, Trump might have based his fantasy escape from any of several action flicks, but “Angels and Demons” offers several obvious parallels: Trump’s messianic self-regard, his acute narcissism, his need for maximum attention and cinematic diversion.
He’s a legend in his own mind, and a reality-TV celebrity to boot. Nothing so ordinary as acquiescence or participation in the inauguration would suit his supreme ridiculousness. Not only has Trump refused to concede to Biden, but he has also declined to invite him to the White House, as is customary, much less signal he’ll attend the inauguration.
As we’ve long known, he’s a brat. A big, bawling baby who wants his paci. It’s little wonder that Trump was so attracted to North Korea’s Kim Jong Un, the man-boy whose people’s coerced loyalty Trump envied. If only Trump could have commanded such devotion from His People, he said in so many words.
They say the very rich are different from you and me, and this is certainly true when it comes to the rules. Born to wealth and privilege, little-boy Trump has never had to play by the regular rules of conduct: personal, business or otherwise. His talent for making deals at the expense of lesser mortals — combined with his strategic use of bankruptcy as a money-making instrument — has basically allowed him to proclaim victory on the backs of the screwed.
Today, those backs belong to the American voters who decided he should no longer win. The guy who can’t stop talking about winning has lost and simply can’t, or refuses to, believe it. This is the man who said dead and wounded troops were losers — and that the late Sen. John McCain was a hero only because he was captured. He of the silver spoon and heel spurs said he preferred heroes who weren’t captured.
I can think of few who so richly deserved losing as Donald J. Trump — for his lack of character alone. If he managed some things well during his four years in the White House, he should get credit, possibly for removing barriers to the speedy development of the coronavirus vaccine. But he likely won’t be remembered for what little good he did. His poor sportsmanship upon losing fair and square has overwhelmed any public sympathy or the fare-thee-well extended to those who accept defeat gracefully.
Trump doesn’t just make himself look bad; he makes the country look bad. For this, he should be shuttled out of town riding a jackass backward, wearing a clown suit. He might take a few Republicans with him.
Although Trump’s bogus, conspiratorial claims — from faulty Dominion voting systems to widespread voter fraud — have been repeatedly debunked, only 27 House and Senate Republicans acknowledge that Biden won, according to exhaustive reporting by The Post.
By attaching themselves to Trump’s lies and fallacies, these Republicans in denial are captives themselves, prisoners of the president’s madness and nothing like heroes. The ultimate irony is that Trump despises people like them. He may demand submission, but he is contemptuous of their weakness. He knows he’s selling snake oil, but he also knows that people need to believe in snake oil.
Finally, the barker has run out of magic potion and soon will parachute into a Florida rally, where he’ll shout to the heavens not a benediction but the same deranged rant: “I won. I won. I won.” Pray there is no sequel.