Rogue Too: The Pavlovian Precedent

Donald Trump is the Death Star of Presidents — an ominous, darkness-filled, moral offense. If we look deeper into that pop culture metaphor, we may discover a key to his undoing.

In the original Star Wars, the Rebellion destroyed the Death Star by exploiting its vulnerability. The Death Star’s exhaust port was the trigger point that led to the destruction of the Evil Empire’s behemoth space station. That exhaust port was the weapon’s achilles heel. When hit with Luke Skywalker’s Force-motivated proton torpedoes, the giant menace exploded in a magnificent galactic fireball.

Trump has an exploitable exhaust-port-type vulnerability. His ego.

Days into his presidency, White House leaks exposed Trump’s obsession with how he is portrayed in any form of popular media. Any criticism is a tweet-worthy affront. Trump’s skin is as thin as his hands are small. His press secretary Sean Spicer scolded reporters for the media’s criticisms of Trump. Steve Bannon labeled the media “the opposition party,” and demanded they “shut up and listen for a while.”

While his surrogates do his bidding, Trump seethes with anger at the indignity of those who portray him as something other than his grandiose, gilded self-image. He roils at perceived lesser beings who dare contradict his undeniable success, excellence, and superiority.

How do we get under that thin, orange skin to ignite his ire?

I propose two ideas to light the fuse:

First, when addressing him, no one should call him “Mr. President.” It is a term of respect that Donald Trump should be denied.

Second, whenever referring to him, imply his illegitimacy by writing his title in quotes. “President” Trump.

Refer to him exclusively as “President” Trump. And if you have to say “President Trump,” air quotes are recommended.

“President” Trump is a dangerous, chaotic, unhinged narcissist; he can be prodded into spectacular self-destruction.