Drinking Lysol-flavoured Kool-Aid

THANK GOD IT’S FRIDAY

MOST SUPPORTERS of Fat Nixon I dismiss unthinkingly, the way I do the Mormons, who believe an angel actually named Moron-I (spelled by them without the hyphen) buried their kind of holy book Bible-add-on written on gold plates in the 4th century until he led a farmer to dig it up in the 19th century.

You can stretch incredulity only so far, even if you believe in miracles.

Trump supporters have now stretched it past the limit of elasticity.

Michael Moore’s documentary Fahrenheit 11/9 showed how, in 2016, some voters who were not stupid, racist, neo-Nazis or fundamentalist Christian rightwing bigots voted not so much for Trump as against the super-rich, privileged white elite who ignored their plight and ran America as if it were their own plantation.

Of course, it’s hard to follow that reasoning to the end to which they took it, namely, voting for Donald Trump, the clearest (and fattest) personification of the privileged class who despised them.

There were also many people in 2016 who would have cut off their own finger rather than vote for Hilary Clinton, whom they regarded as an opportunist.

Again, it’s hard to follow how that thought process led them to vote for an openly corrupt, demonstrably untrustworthy, crude opportunist misogynist sexual predator buffoon who did not have even a single principle to abandon.

My own hope is that the November election, if it is held, will be a census of precisely how many white supremacists and fundamentalist Christians there are left in America: they will be the only ones voting for the elephantine scab in 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

It’s also no surprise, to me, that West Indian elites – if that is not a contradiction in terms – are the most vociferous and belligerent supporters (outside of the congressional Republican Party) of the world’s most foolish man.

Our ruling sector – not our ruling class, for they have none – can literally see themselves in Trump because he looks and acts just like them: proudly ignorant, even more proudly uneducated; stupid (bar a limited ability to manage money); morbidly obese; inbred; obstreperous; arrogant; and of a weird firetrucking colour that is recognised as white, even if it’s closer to orange, beige or maroon.

West Indian elites – they put the “moron” in that oxymoron – see personified in the White House today what they saw in the Great House for centuries: untrammelled, shameless greed; entitlement; savage will; oblivious self-obsession; and a merciless eagerness to destroy humanity itself, if it means a penny more for themselves.

But even they, I thought, would distance themselves from Fat Nixon’s suggestion (as evidently ill-considered as it might have been well-meant) that Americans might inject themselves with Clorox or Drano, or instal sunlamps under their skin.

Wiping away the tears that proved the Trinidadian adage that “Laugh and cry live in the same yard,” I messaged one Trump acolyte to ask whether he was so pleased with the bigly amount of covid19 testing by his hero that he was sipping a little celebratory El Dorado 12-Year-Old and Lysol.

He did not reply.

I asked another fiercely proud Moronista if he didn’t think it might be better to instal stadium floodlights, rather than mere sunlamps, under his skin, because, presumably, the more the light, the faster the cure. If disinfectant clears the lungs in, “like, one minute,” how fast might acid work?

His reply was a trifle churlish: “You listening to Fake News maliciously misquoting him.” I heard it myself, I replied, live from the lips of His Lard-ship, not from Morning Joe Scarborough or Chris Cuomo.

“But he was only thinking aloud!”

“It might have been aloud,” I replied, “but it definitely wasn’t thinking.”

He did not reply.

Which denied me the chance to hit him with, “Let them eat Persil tablets!”

For all their similarities – the will to rule savagely (though in the minority), the conviction that
L’état, c’est nous,
the certainty their own path is ordained on high (no matter how low they go) – there is a real difference between Trump supporters in American and those in the West Indies.

Our Moronistas have not really drank the Kool-Aid.

Unlike Moscow Mitch McConnell and Lindsay Graham, they will not cling to Trump if he goes down. They will not salt the earth, if only because their children must live off its fat.

They’re not really Trump supporters.

They’re Little Trumps.

Down to the thoughtless betrayal of all they pretend to hold dear in order to get a little richer. Including their hero.

BC Pires is a Kamala Harris man, a Bernie Sanders man, a Joe Biden man, an anybody but that fat firetruck man.

Read the full version of this column on Saturday at www.BCPires.com