I will first admit that I was wrong. In my previous scribblings about the GOP nomination for President, I incorrectly conjectured that Donald Trump would be gone after Super Tuesday. Like most predictions and prophecies, mine fell flat. While Nate Silver and the fine folks at Five Thirty Eight have dug deep and analyzed that Mr. Trump has what appears to be a ceiling at about 30-35% of GOP voters, he nonetheless remains large and in charge. Speaking of large, the GOP front-runner guaranteed the American people that despite what some have said, the size of his genitalia was “not a problem.” What is a problem is that a public, televised debate to determine the suitability of the men itching to lead the country descends into a dick-bragging contest. The entire GOP race has started to resemble the WWE, but without the steroids and growth hormones.
Mr. Trump’s remarkable run has left the Republican Party shell-shocked and they are scrambling to figure out a way to stop him from actually wearing the Championship Belt.
I have spent entirely too much mental energy trying to come up with reasons so many of my fellow American adults find this man to be the best possible option for taking up residence in the White House. It doesn’t seem to matter if he gets his facts wrong, or if he fabricates stories and pushes them as true, or if he steps all over the First Amendment to the Constitution or supports war crimes. Donald himself said that he could stand out on 5th Ave and shoot someone and he wouldn’t lose any votes. Like everything else he says, that’s an exaggeration, but the message hits the mark: He can do no wrong with his supporters. Whether it’s suggesting we murder ISIS member’s families, or banning all people who claim Islam as their religion from the US, Trump keeps on winning. Donald Trump is the candidate using the Chair Shot on his opponents, who are just now realizing they’re participants in a form of American entertainment. And his supporters are cheering like the millions of fans who tune in to WWE Raw every week. They don’t care if it’s all fake, or as the WWE calls it, “a form of athletic entertainment,” they’re cheering for their man and they want to see a Bionic Elbow or a Flying Forearm Smash.
At this point, all we can do is ride the lightning until this shitshow comes to its inevitable end. I’d say money on following our first black President with our first female President is a pretty safe bet.