Making Trump a Martyr in Three Easy Steps

Bruce Stirling
Dec 18, 2019 · 6 min read
Martyrdom of St Sebastian by Bartolomeo di Giovanni

To become a martyr, one must be willing to sacrifice for a higher cause while putting self-interest aside for the greater good, concepts that are completely alien to Donald J. Trump, the forty-fifth president of the United States.

Let’s face it. The only cause Trump has is himself.

Yet he is, believe it or not, the perfect candidate for martyrdom, a goal he can reach in three easy steps.

Step #1: Resign

Admit it, Mr. President, you hate being president. You think you’re good at it, but you’re not. You thought you could dictate by fiat. You can’t. You thought the White House would be a subsidiary of Trump Corp. and all you had to do was show up and say, “You’re fired!”

Sorry. That’s not how our democracy works. You can’t rule like Kim and Vlad. As president, you have to deal with people. Like it or not, you have to be a politician, you know, a Team America player.

But you’re not a team player. Never have been. That’s why golf is your game. You don’t have to answer to coaches or teammates. You can choose your own club, your own course, your own quitting time.

Best of all, you can move your ball wherever you damn well want.

But in Washington, you can’t move your ball. But you did. The Dems flagged you for cheating — and an impeachment fell on your head.

True, you’ve fought back, but to be honest, you’ve just looked bored, sitting there making triangles with your fingers, like the whole thing is just another stiffed customer wanting his money back — and you could give a FLOTUS.

As I write, you’re betting your hand-picked Supreme Court will shield your financial records from those pesky Dems. If the Court doesn’t rule in your favor, you’ll continue to game the system as you stall for time. Time for what? Hel-lo!

Look, Mr. President, forget stalling. Forget trying to game the Senate as you go on trial for abusing power and obstructing justice. That’s just more politics, and you hate being a politician.

The truth is you hate everyone but yourself.

So what’s a poor, pathologically narcissistic president to do?

Get out. Now. Resign on your own terms. Call a press conference and tell the world you quit.

Blame the “deep state” Dems for driving you from office.

Blame Nervous Nancy for corrupting the democratic process.

Blame Rudy and Lev and Shifty Adam Schiff for failing to understand your vision of how to make America great again (a line you stole from Ronald Reagan, by the way).

Just remember: As you exit the White House, maintain an air of dignity as you play the victim card. Your base will eat it up. They’ll reel at the injustice yet know in their collective hearts that you resigned because that’s what a patriot would do. And you, sir, are a patriot.

So do it, sir. Resign.

Fall on your sword, for thy sword is thee.

Step Two: Write a Book

After you resign, lay low for a few months. Seriously. Let Congress and the news cycle flounder on gender-neutral toilets and buying Canada while you plot your comeback.

I know. I know. Keeping your piehole shut will be hard. But trust me. In time, your noble silence will create a new mystique, a new Don.

No longer will you be the trust-fund baby who scammed Atlantic City builders out of their casino contracts.

No longer will you be the master con who used money from his New York City charity to buy oil paintings of himself.

No longer will you be the orange-maned savant who built a university designed to scam its students.

As for being in Putin’s pocket? Forget it. You resigned, remember? Water under the bridge, bro.

In your new incarnation, you’ll be the elder statesmen of the Republican party, the sage of Mar-a-Lago, the Teflon Don who’s managed to stay out of jail all these years (now that is a miracle). You know the press will lap it up.

Soon, speculation about your possible return will reach fever pitch but just brush it aside. Take the high road.

Tell “the fake” Washington Post you’ve had it with trying to drain the swamp.

Tell “the bankrupt” New York Times the Washington beltway destroys patriots like you.

Tell your blue-collar acolytes you’re a simple, self-made billionaire just wanting a little peace and quiet as you cheat your way up and down another Scottish golf course you bought with Russian cash courtesy of Deutsche (cough!) Bank.

In the meantime, write a book. Tell your story. Better yet, get somebody to write it for you (black Sharpie is really hard to read).

In it, blame the Dems for destroying the country.

Finger the “socialists” who did you wrong.

Claim you are a victim of the “deep state.”

Compare yourself to Lincoln and Martin Luther King. Jesus? Sure. Why not? Your base don’t read, so what’s the problem?

Before you know it, your popularity will be off the charts. The beholden GOP, instead of evoking the memory of Reagan, will crown you their new “shining light on a hill,” you, Donald J. Trump, champion of the American patriot, the savior who left too soon (cue violins).

And yes, if the federal attorneys in the Southern District of New York have their way, you’ll be in prison stripes faster than you can say, “Russer, if you have Hillary’s emails…”

Did I say prison?

Dude, relax. History is full of imprisoned martyrs. Can you think of any?

I’ll give you a hint: he was a painter and a vegetarian — and he wrote a book!

Step Three: Resurrection

All good martyrs need resurrecting. When will yours occur?

Let’s assume the Dems win the 2020 presidential election. That means your resurrection will occur during the 2024 election cycle.

However, you won’t be running for president (you hate being a politician, remember?) Instead, you’ll play an even greater role: king maker.

Assuming you’re not dead or in jail, this is how you’ll rise from the ashes.

At the 2024 Republican National Convention, you, sir, will finally emerge from the cloisters of Mar-A-Lago to anoint the next Republican presidential candidate (I suggest descending from a cloud this time; coming down that escalator in Trump Tower was a bit, what’s the word — cheesy?)

Some believe the 2024 GOP presidential candidate will be Don Jr. I, however, advise against it for one very good reason: Baby Don doesn’t have blonde hair. Also, he’ll be too busy slaughtering immigrants trying to cross the border…Oops, I meant slaughtering helpless animals in Africa.

Instead, you will anoint a heartland firebrand, a true-blue patriot willing to carry the Trump cross like never before.

Unlike you, he’ll be a real political animal.

Unlike you, he’ll charge where you hesitated.

Unlike you, he’ll use force, the kind you only dreamed of.

In short, he’ll be the president you always wanted to be.

Once your man is elected president (and he will be; polls already have the 2024 Democratic presidential candidate field at 500), you’ll be beholden to no one, for not only will you be a martyr but a king maker as well. Finally, you’ll be able to spew all the venom you want and nobody will hold your feet to the fire, least of all those pesky Harvard lawyers in the Democratic party.

And what of the party slogan?

For your resurrection, you’ll need a new calling card, one that will catch fire with the base.

But what will it be? What pithy phrase could ever compete with Make America Great Again?

Hmmm. I know. How about Make America White Again! The perfect title for your book!

Gee, who knew becoming a martyr could be so easy?

Step Four

Sorry, did I forget to mention step four? Silly me (such a snowflake).

Step four is really quite easy: forget steps two and three and resign — now.

Forget about being a martyr (you’ll never be able to spell that word).

Forget about being a king maker (You? Sharing the spotlight? Pssst. Right.)

Please. Just go. I beg you.

And take your tanning bed with you.

I don’t know how much more I can take.


Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade