FacebookTwitterGoogle+RedditEmail

Sympathy for the Drivel: On the Vocabulary of President Nitwit

Photo by PunkToad | CC BY 2.0

To be hideously diminished in language, like Donald Trump, is to be hideously diminished in thinking; and to be hideously diminished in thinking is to have to constantly squeeze your enormous American body into a claustrophobic thought-arena that reeks like an Arkansas cockfighting pit—and that is what Trump’s brain looks like, a cockfighting pit full of screaming idiots, with a crayonned scoreboard that never says anything beyond Me Win or Me Lose. So Donald Trump, that bloated weakling, crawls around inside that cramped brain-arena every day, naked and perfumed and enormous and pink; he flounders around on rank straw drenched with rooster-blood and studded with pellets of chickenshit, his skin magnetizing all that blood and feces, and, thus besmeared, he stands up, gives a sharp military salute, and shambles outside to parade around America, naked and stinking. Needless to say, it’s not a pretty sight. Me lose? Me no lose. Me win! That I can tell you.

Trump has such a low ratio of thoughts to speech-time—1:150, let’s say, with 150 representing minutes of talking– that he’s forced to repeat himself endlessly: “we have to do it, no choice, we have to do it, believe me. Believe me, we just have to do it, that I can tell you. We have no choice,” etc etc ad nauseum.   This is the way his blowhard persona buys time for his terrified mind to sniff out another idea somewhere off in the distance.

Every time he dares to ad-lib a single word beyond the soul-deadening speeches that some fascist factotum in the West Wing has scripted for him, he’s forced to cobble together some semblance of speech from the pitifully few readymades that he can somehow remember: “that I can tell you,” “strongly,” “special people,” etc. “Special” gets an especially big workout.  Veterans are “special.”  Cops are “special.” A Playboy centerfold dumb enough to fuck him, and doubly dumb enough to refuse his offer of postcoital cash, is “special.” So many people are special that there’s no one left to be pedestrian.  (He seems comically unaware that for an entire younger generation “special” is a euphemism for mentally challenged, i.e. “the special kids on the short bus.”)

And “strongly:” my God, Donald Trump loves his little “strongly!”  “We have to look at immigration very strongly.”  Oh, how he adores that word; he lovingly caresses every “strongly” as he says it, even moving his porcine cheeks a little, instead of merely fish-lipping it the way he does with most words.  When Roy Moore is accused of sex crimes that any idiot knows he committed—“well, he denies it very strongly,” says Trump, who thinks the word confers machismo on that sissy Christian pervert.  “He denies it strongly?” Yeah, as if it takes a fucking

Samson to summon up the raw manly power to issue simpering lies about his attempted rape of schoolgirls.

Hillary Clinton’s language, of course, was the dead opposite, with the emphasis on “dead”—an intricate chainmetal web spun to hide murderous impulses, a faux-Jesuitical parsing of the world that allowed her to paint Bernie Sanders and the Koch brothers as ideological best pals, and to obscure the killing of thousands of dark-skinned people under phosphorescent sheets of wonkery. Hillary always spoke in the dead language of mid-level corporate management. “Vetted.” “Stronger Together.” “Ready on Day One.” You might as well ask voters to get deliriously excited about reading a year-old inter-office memo headed “Possible Savings in the Company Beverage Supply.”

The irony of this stone vocabulary was that in the end it fooled Hillary more than anyone else: she bought her own bullshit, it lulled her into a linguistic stupor, so that she’d occasionally forget herself and threaten to “obliterate” every human being in Iran, or—glowing like the winner of a pie-eating contest at the local 4-H club–announce that the genocidal Henry Kissinger had endorsed her.

So if Hillary had been elected, we’d be dealing with a whole other class of war-crimes against the English language.  Maybe we’re better off with the comic ineptitude of a nitwit with dementia.  But what does it mean when any random sopohomore at Parkland High School, grabbed in the depths of shock by a TV reporter while grieving dead classmates, is a hundred times more eloquent than the President of the United States?

Nothing good.  That I can tell you.

Strongly.

 

More articles by:

John Eskow is a writer and musician. He wrote or co-wrote the movies Air America, The Mask of Zorro, and Pink Cadillac, as well as the novel Smokestack Lightning. He is a contributor to Killing Trayvons: an Anthology of American Violence. He can be reached at: johneskow@yahoo.com

Weekend Edition
September 21, 2018
Friday - Sunday
Alexandra Isfahani-Hammond
Hurricane Florence and 9.7 Million Pigs
Andrew Levine
Israel’s Anti-Semitism Smear Campaign
Paul Street
Laquan McDonald is Being Tried for His Own Racist Murder
Brad Evans
What Does It Mean to Celebrate International Peace Day?
Nick Pemberton
With or Without Kavanaugh, The United States Is Anti-Choice
Jim Kavanagh
“Taxpayer Money” Threatens Medicare-for-All (And Every Other Social Program)
Jonathan Cook
Palestine: The Testbed for Trump’s Plan to Tear up the Rules-Based International Order
Jeffrey St. Clair
Roaming Charges: the Chickenhawks Have Finally Come Back Home to Roost!
David Rosen
As the Capitalist World Turns: From Empire to Imperialism to Globalization?
Jonah Raskin
Green Capitalism Rears Its Head at Global Climate Action Summit
James Munson
On Climate, the Centrists are the Deplorables
Robert Hunziker
Is Paris 2015 Already Underwater?
Arshad Khan
Will Their Ever be Justice for Rohingya Muslims?
Jill Richardson
Why Women Don’t Report Sexual Assault
Dave Clennon
A Victory for Historical Accuracy and the Peace Movement: Not One Emmy for Ken Burns and “The Vietnam War”
W. T. Whitney
US Harasses Cuba Amid Mysterious Circumstances
Nathan Kalman-Lamb
Things That Make Sports Fans Uncomfortable
George Capaccio
Iran: “Snapping Back” Sanctions and the Threat of War
Kenneth Surin
Brexit is Coming, But Which Will It Be?
Louis Proyect
Moore’s “Fahrenheit 11/9”: Entertaining Film, Crappy Politics
Ramzy Baroud
Why Israel Demolishes: Khan Al-Ahmar as Representation of Greater Genocide
Ben Dangl
The Zapatistas’ Dignified Rage: Revolutionary Theories and Anticapitalist Dreams of Subcommandante Marcos
Ron Jacobs
Faith, Madness, or Death
Bill Glahn
Crime Comes Knocking
Terry Heaton
Pat Robertson’s Hurricane “Miracle”
Dave Lindorff
In Montgomery County PA, It’s Often a Jury of White People
Louis Yako
From Citizens to Customers: the Corporate Customer Service Culture in America 
William Boardman
The Shame of Dianne Feinstein, the Courage of Christine Blasey Ford 
Ernie Niemi
Logging and Climate Change: Oregon is Appalachia and Timber is Our Coal
Jessicah Pierre
Nike Says “Believe in Something,” But Can It Sacrifice Something, Too?
Paul Fitzgerald - Elizabeth Gould
Weaponized Dreams? The Curious Case of Robert Moss
Olivia Alperstein
An Environmental 9/11: the EPA’s Gutting of Methane Regulations
Ted Rall
Why Christine Ford vs. Brett Kavanaugh is a Train Wreck You Can’t Look Away From
Lauren Regan
The Day the Valves Turned: Defending the Pipeline Protesters
Ralph Nader
Questions, Questions Where are the Answers?
Binoy Kampmark
Deplatforming Germaine Greer
Raouf Halaby
It Should Not Be A He Said She Said Verdict
Robert Koehler
The Accusation That Wouldn’t Go Away
Jim Hightower
Amazon is Making Workers Tweet About How Great It is to Work There
Robby Sherwin
Rabbi, Rabbi, Where For Art Thou Rabbi?
Vern Loomis
Has Something Evil This Way Come?
Steve Baggarly
Disarm Trident Walk Ends in Georgia
Graham Peebles
Priorities of the Time: Peace
Michael Doliner
The Department of Demonization
David Yearsley
Bollocks to Brexit: the Plumber Sings
FacebookTwitterGoogle+RedditEmail