…with 66 days left before I leave, all is far from gloomy. You will have to pardon the superficial insights, regrettably ageist tenor, and more than slightly trollish tone of this vid, but at least you get to see — without having to actually come to F-L-A!!! — the beach where I often go to solve the problems of the world.
If you are interested in a truly insightful article on how a New York that no longer exists (one which I was fortunate to have experienced first hand) shaped Donald Trump”s lifelong urban-dystopia worldview — read this fine piece by Michael Kruse in Politico’s magazine section. If the New York of the 70s fascinates you, Fear City is a recently published book that I think is rather well written and comprehensively researched.
But, in the end, all that Trump and his odious eldest sons and his plastic-surgery daughter and wife and his various slimy acolytes and hangers-on crave is publicity, that, and dirty money, and a transient sense of power, derived from the Russian-backed hijacking of a presidency. Never has as illegitimate a President occupied the White House.
The point of my vid here is that Trump’s popularity is a stand-in, a stub for the failed nobodies who read the National Enquirer, paying the $5 with their Social Security money, or the idiot who resents black kids playing music while they gas up at Cumberland Farms and tries to run them over, or the aging psycho who shoots a stranger in a movie theater for texting before the start of the feature — all of which have happened in Florida. But if you are a soon-to-be expat, all of this repugnant Trumposity is fast becoming moot.
Doing a geographic can be chicken soup for the soul. Yesterday’s Mika/Morning Joe tweet storm is already moot. The health care bill machinations are moot, because it has no chance in hell of passing, unless the Republican party wishes to commit political suicide. Even the Muslim Travel ban is moot, except ethically, providing the compromised Supreme Court in November does not go full metal jacket into Planet Xenophobia.
One way or the other, I could care less. After all, the day after Labor Day, I will be here…