There are those who read this expat blog, and no doubt think, hey, that Gouna Man, he really hates The Donald.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
I admire Donald Trump and his rascal ways for many many incredibly beautiful reasons.
Take his empathy for the common American, even as he makes every attempt to destroy the ability of ordinary citizens to access affordable health care and shred the social safety net so many of America’s poor rely on to survive.
Or his boldness of vision with respect to Jerusalem, as Jared self deals with Israelis who invest in his company.
His magnificent courage in ensuring that America destroys what’s left of its once pristine landscape.
His inspiringly bellicose willingness to make sure America takes a back seat to no one on the global stage by antagonizing Europe and other bastions of Liberal Democracy and while picking nuclear fights with third world small fry — all done in the space of half a day’s work, which he spends mostly on the phone or watching cable TV.
His glorious contempt of people of color, and loathing of Arab-Americans.
His shameless pursuit of the Almighty Buck and kowtowing to the rich with his tax plan.
No, great as all these things are, they are not the reason why I’m all in with Trump.
I am with Trump because he made me feel super intelligent for the first time in my life.
In fact, Donald Trump has made us all geniuses.
I don’t know about you, but all my life, I have read or heard about the cucks who could accomplish things I could only dream about, usually in the field of pure mathematics, art, or the Sciences. Einstein, Da Vinci, the guy Matt Damon played in Good Will Hunting.
It made me feel, like, terrible inside that I was just an ordinary man, with no special talent for anything.
That was why beautiful women did not throw themselves at my feet.
That is why I have never had a big house on the water.
That is why I was never promoted to the top of the IT corporate ladder in my long career as a PC jock.
That is why I never wrote extraordinary novels, or made scientific discoveries that changed the world for the better. I was just an ordinary Joe Schmo, doomed to a life of small time irrelevance, and a grave which no one but my long-suffering wife would ever visit.
All that stinkin’ thinkin’ is so 2017.
For yesterday I learned that The Donald was a genius. A stable genius. True this genius was self-proclaimed via a tweet, but soon Stephen Miller was on CNN, and confirmed that our genius president was in fact a political genius, and that’s just for starters.
My heart sang with joy at these words.
For Donald Trump had in one tweet democratized this elitist word, making schlubs like me feel good about themselves again, by separating the word genius from it’s actual meaning.
Solving gnarly, intractable equations? Screw that. Finding the cure for cancer? Get a life. Discovering the secrets of the outer reaches of the universe? Puhleez.
Such trifles are hardly the mark of genius. No, true genius is the chutzpah ability to claim that lousy work habits, a willingness to engage in shady business practises, grandiosity, and absolute narcissism, are all the mark of a superior intellect.
This was such good news.
All my life I have wanted to write a book, but failed, because, yanno, it takes a lot of time to type 100,000+ words.
But tomorrow, I am going to write a novel. It will end up being 300 pages long. And I’ll produce it in less than a day, and self-publish it on Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing.
I will then write laudatory review copy of this book under assumed names and publish these in various WordPress blogs.
I will ask some of my Russian friends of mine to download thousands of copies of this book, and pay for it with stolen credit cards.
I will even create a distribution/marketing channel on Youtube for this book, and have some of friends pose as literary critics interviewing me on air.
Then I will claim my book is a best seller, a work of genius.
I will do all these things, and more, because after all, I too am now a genius, just like The Donald.
I just hope that no one ever notices that there will be no actual content between the virtual covers of my genius novel — that its pages, in effect, will be blank.
Nothing to worry about. That is just a libtard, fake burger, college-educated elitist issue.
After all, just like it says in Fire and Fury, geniuses like me and The Donald and his so-called base don’t actually read anything.
Thank you Mr. President for making that okay.
Thank for taking me from being a dime-a-dozen blogging mediocrity to unassailable Literary Greatness.