He is a carnival barker. Loud. Brash. Heedless. Cocky as hell. And we have to hear his voice, it’s looking more and more likely, for the next six and a half months.
He is a pitch man. Pushing himself brazenly: I am the best negotiator. The best manager, the best friend of peace, the best friend of the blacks (they love me), the best employer, the toughest, the most understanding person imaginable. I will do more for women than anyone you’ve ever seen. I will be so presidential you won’t even believe it. The most presidential person ever.
He is a carnival barker and a pitch man, a marketeer with yellow hair. And perhaps the worst part? He is the exact opposite of the person who’s in there now. The thoughtful, graceful, mindful, intellectual, and elegant man we twice elected to lead our country.
The popularity of the carnival barker stings because it is such a blatant rebuke of the qualities we joyously and hopefully chose, that we have continued to admire and come to rely upon.
“Can you imagine him delivering next year’s State of the Union address?” a reporter asked Barak Obama the afternoon before his most recent SOTU. “Only in an SNL sketch,” the President replied.
Clever retort, I thought at the time. I was as confident as the President that the very notion was absurd, could never happen. Now here’s what I’m thinking: May a Donald Trump impersonator do to the carnival barker what Tina Fey did to Sarah Palin — and for the nation. Show his bombast and schoolyard bullying as too ridiculous to even consider as possible traits in our next leader. Expose his utter disqualification for the job. It may be an SNL sketch that brings the country to its senses, after all.