My Idea of Political Journalism

“It’s the economy, stupid,” as James Carville famously said. But if that’s the American bottom line, then you would think those struggling financially would want economic solutions. They don’t. They want emotional ones. It’s hard to understand how this petty, griping, rich boy can be a hero to the working class, but Trump has become a modern-day Pretty Boy Floyd, outlaw-savior to the dust bowl hordes. As much Pablo Escobar as he is Mussolini, he is beloved despite his crimes (or in Trump’s case, because of them).  We thought we were prosecuting him. They thought we were persecuting him. If you’ve read your history (or bible), you know which one of those is more powerful.

Politics is screenwriting, and emotion always matters more than plot. That’s what the audience remembers. Trump is a genius (or idiot savant) for weaponizing rage and victimization. His own and his followers’. Red-hot emotion is the fuel most human beings run on, and if the feelings are strong enough, they will win over actual self-interest, economic especially. Folks would rather be proud and broke, than not proud and nearly broke, and pride is in the eye of the beholder. Born to play the cruel and greedy Prince John, Trump has somwhow been cast as Robin Hood. He steals dignity from the woke and gives it to the sleeping.

Even if you’re think the election was lost due to Kamala’s race and gender or Democratic ineptitude, one thing is certain. Donald Trump is the greatest hustler, con man and provocateur in American History. P.T. Barnum live at the White House. Part strongman, part bad boy, all unrepentant liar and crook, he lights the fire and lets us be the wind. 

Imagine, just for a moment, what it must be like to have that much love and hatred coming at you. To have an engine that can run that hot on both of those fuels. I want to say Trump is the twisted manifestation of a twitter-war culture; an instant, process free, internet pig-pen where bluster and tabloid style soundbites hold sway over the slow, unsexy, and often boring work of truly understanding, and I think that is largely true. But what may be even truer is that understanding the economy or geopolitics is far less important than understanding your audience, and even more importantly, understanding reality TV, which whether we like it or not seems to be a reasonable stand for reality these days.

This is who we are. Everyone knew exactly who the cat was and still the country said, "We like that movie. Let's see it again." Am I concerned? Fuck yeah. But I am also mystified, awed, revolted, troubled and often perversely entertained by this manifestation of... Of a lot of things. But the story-teller in me cannot minimize this bizarre avatar of victimization. He is a villain/hero for the ages. The black hat as key (if not more key) to his popularity than the white one.

If you’ve read your Jung, you know the shadow is real, and Trump has tapped into the collective one in a most profound and unhealthy way. You often hear his handlers say the reason why the people love their man is, “he’s real,” meaning he will say the awful, ugly shit that folks are really thinking, but don’t have the guts or the platform to. I agree. I want to be talking about Arnold Palmer’s dick size. I want to spew a bunch of violent, reductive, racist, misogynist half-demented digressive madness. I want to be real! Because compassion is not real. Empathy is not real. Confusion is not real, and admitting you were wrong, even one fucking time is definitely not being real. Being real means revealing the ugly, id gone mad grievance of the pissed-off white man king, and any blacks, Hispanics, Asians and Arabs that want to hop on the rage train, all aboard!

But in a culture where the list of things you can’t say grows longer by the day, someone who says and does whatever the fuck they want and gets away with it is a prophet. Identity politics and cancel culture are nuanced issues and nuance doesn’t play in Peoria. I know a lot of people are really upset, and it is always startling when you realize seventy-million of your fellow Americans don’t share your inclusive and honorable values, but this is where we’re at. (And let’s be honest, Bill Clinton and Barack were full-tilt complicit in the great big money grab and gutting of the middle class, they just served it with a bunch of side dishes we like eating.) We are post-morality, post-decency, and post-coherence, but we will never be post-anger. The day we collectively acknowledge the grief under our rage is the day we may get somewhere, but until then American politics is a nasty divorce. A he said/she said food fight, and the Republicans throw their pie harder.  

I was brought up in a home where left-wing politics were religion, and though it is deep in me, I also think that on many levels it’s an illusion. If you do your work, have a purpose, live (what to you) is an honorable life, treat people with dignity and respect, and are willing to generously offer and receive love, you are probably going to be okay no matter who the president is. You live dishonorably, are stingy with love, and have no purpose you will probably be pretty pissed off even if your guy (or maybe one day, girl) is in the White House.

Could Trump go full mythical and blow up the world, or science deny us into an accelerated oblivion? There’s always a chance. But I’m not going to tell you that scary story. This one is scary enough.