TRUMPTY DUMPTY
Why Isn’t Charles Bastille Writing about Trump?
I’m done with Trump and you should be too
Worldwide, people are asking why I’m done writing about the Orange Puffaloe of Mar-a-Lago. Okay, I exaggerate — one grossly underpaid writer named Charles is asking.
See, I woke up the morning after the puffy king of rage announced his candidacy with another easy Medium rant. Adding “Trump” to a headline almost guarantees hits, views, claps, and story distribution on Medium. Easy money. One Trump story I wrote a long time ago is still my highest-earning story. Granted, that’s like remarking on Russia’s greatest military mind, but still.
But I can’t write about his announcement because I didn’t watch the speech from his palace at Mar-a-Lago. And I don’t plan to. I did read a teeny, eentsy bit about it. How he appeared puffy, worn, tired, and uninspired as he spat out his usual allotment of hate-fueled prattle. And I thought, “No, I’m done.”
No more fun photo smashups. No more coming up with silly names to reference him. No more smart-ass rants. No more Trump.
He’s cooked. Let’s stop treating him like he is anything more than he is — a doddering, washed-up, consistently bankrupt (morally and financially) old man yelling from his window at people…
