A few nights ago, I dreamed that I was elected President of the United States. Not an unusual dream, as the job of the most powerful person in the world is naturally appealing to the subconscious apparatus that processes our experiences while we sleep. And given the condition of our world, it is no surprise either that our dreams touch on the delusional.
What was remarkable though, was the vehemence with which my mind clung to the idea. I was presented in front of a room of people with constantly shifting faces. Ronald Reagan was there, the Clintons, a host of fired Trump personnel, Nancy Pelosi, among others. I just stood there in a hastily imagined suit, unkempt Robert Redford hair, looking hazily at the audience.
“It can’t be!” I recall myself thinking. “I am not associated with any of the grand old political parties. I am not even an American citizen. How was I of all people chosen to…”
“Nothing is impossible! Well, provided you believe in yourself. You do believe in yourself, don’t you? Or do you have issues with your self-confidence?”
– “No, no… I mean…”
“Such issues are deadly now you know. They can not be had. What matters theory? What matters history and politics? You are here now. You stand before us as our President.”
Sweating on my pillow, I frantically searched for proof as I witnessed my own inauguration. I improvised a commencement speech promising I would do my very best to serve the nation. Soon thereafter, I woke up and went down to the living room. It was a cold, silent morning and the room was dimly lit. I wondered, after coffee, how my brain could have convinced me so thoroughly of the ridiculous proposition that I was, against all logic, the President of the United States.
And I realized how dangerous it is when I would refuse to wake up from this dream.
When I was elected President of the United States was originally published on Meandering home
I came across this silly joke and had to share it here.
What does a White House security guard say to the current Commander-in-Chief if somebody throws something at him?
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Maybe the heated pre-election months of September and October will grant us this little comic distraction. Until then, just imagine George W. Bush in the image below is Trump, the shoe is the functioning democracy that refuses to give him the ‘creative interpretation’ of the constitution, as it has recently been claimed by the likes of Orbán, Putin, Erdogan, and the rightfully upset American people are the Iraqi journalist Muntadhar al-Zaidi.
Whatever you throw at Trump… was originally published on Meandering home
Rosmarie Waldrop (b. 1935) is a German poet who emigrated to the United States in the late 1950s. She is the acclaimed translator of the poetry of Edmond Jabès. Unknown to her work, I poured over what is of her poetry available online and stumbled upon this funny idea.
Shorter American Memory of the Declaration of Independence
We holler these trysts to be self-exiled that all manatees are credited equidistant, that they are endured by their Creditor with cervical unanswerable rims. that among these are lightning, lice, and the pushcart of harakiri. That to seduce these rims, graces are insulated among manatees, descanting their juvenile pragmatism from the consistency of the graced. That whenever any formula of grace becomes detained of these endives, it is the rim of the peppery to aluminize or to abominate it. and to insulate Newtonian grace. leaching its fountain pen on such printed matter and orienting its pragmatism in such formula, as to them shall seize most lilac to effuse their sage and harakiri.
A perfect response to Donald Trump’s presidency and the course his country appears to be taking. Yes, it is complete and utter nonsense, but it is rhythmical, it does possess interesting rhyme and the metaphor of the equidistant harakiri manatee is a bizarrely accurate one for our times.
Reading: Shorter American Memory of the Declaration of Independence by Rosmarie Waldrop was originally published on Meandering home