So last night, the leading presidential candidate for the Grand Old Party bragged on stage, in public, in a nationally televised debate, about the size of his penis. At least he didn’t whip out a ruler and offer to prove it right then and there, although we do have a few more debates scheduled, so we can’t count out that possibility altogether.
The most damning part is that nobody expects that Donald Trump hurt his chances with that performance. Quite the contrary, for all we know, his poll numbers may even improve. That is what we have come to, America. Aren’t we all proud? Georgia Republicans, aren’t you glad that the history books will always record that you made such a man the winner of the 2016 GOP primary? How about you evangelicals, you so-called “values voters”? What measuring device were YOU using when you voted for Trump in such large numbers?
“Make America Great Again” my rear end.
If you think about it, though, I guess we shouldn’t have been surprised. “Mine is bigger than yours, or yours, or yours, and you, Megyn Kelly, you don’t even have one!” has been the unspoken foundation of the Trump campaign since its inception. Last night, the unspoken simply became spoken. Ho hum.
Again, that too is quintessential Trump. He has built his popularity on turning subtext — those things that others would only hint at or imply — into explicit text. What others communicate through dog whistle, he yells through a megaphone. All subtlety of thought, word or deed, any mental or emotional capability beyond that of the third-grade playground, are eliminated. And people — some people — like that. They think that a person like that ought to be in the White House, running the country, running our foreign policy, commanding our military.
Because, you know, he’s so big. Yuuuge, in fact. And for those who feel inadequate, he can make you feel yuuuge too!
What a freaking circus.