I’m so sad to see Sen. Ted Cruz leave the presidential campaign. Look what happened in a week. He lost a primary. Then, as if he’d already won the nomination, he picked an insane running mate. They played with each other’s hands. Then the insane running mate sang a freakish song. After that, at some rally, she did a stunning Gerald Ford off the stage — earning her a 9.5 from the Russian judges, who weren’t even in the room, they just saw the clip — which Cruz completely ignored.
Then, Cruz is filmed punching, elbowing and slapping his wife in the face in the course of hugging some guys. I could go on and on like this, if he hadn’t quit.
By contrast, Donald Trump isn’t really funny.
Well, that’s not exactly true. He’s funny to me. But I think the prospect of being crushed instantly in the Big One as the earth propels my apartment floor up into the ceiling is positively hilarious. I have to be aware, though, that not everyone reading these rambles shares my taste in humor.
I was reminded of my peculiar taste in humor or lack thereof the other day as some of us from the office were sitting in the sun at Occidental Park and a kiddy train walked through. There were about 10 kiddies being led safely through the park by what I imagine were teachers, all strung out on a rope.
It reminded me of the fact that in the tiny town in which I attended fourth grade there were no school buses. Kids lived as far as five miles away along routes that had no sidewalks. So instead of putting us on buses, our teachers took turns supervising marches home. My bus was my legs and those of 15 other children, driven from the front and behind by two teachers.
It took 45 minutes to walk from the grade school to my drop off point. That’s a long time for 15 9-year-olds to walk quietly, especially as school was technically over for the day. So the teachers had to tolerate a certain amount of vocalization. What they got were endless verses of children’s songs.
The songs were never ones that the teachers would have selected. The favorites were “Found a Peanut,” and the classic “Great Green Gobs of Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts.”
If you aren’t familiar with the Peanut song, I think it suffices to list some information that emerges about the peanut in the course of the many traditional verses, such as “it was rotten,” “I got sick,” “I had surgery,” “it was unsuccessful,” “I died and went to heaven,” “heaven was closed,” and so forth. We took turns making up new verses like that to stretch it out.
All of this, of course, springs instantly to my mind as the children are seen being led through Occidental Park, and then, next thing that happens, there’s me giggling and reminiscing about gopher guts and rotten peanuts. All while thinking about how funny the phrase “strung out” is.
Trump is that kind of funny. He’s that smashed-against-a-ceiling, rotten-peanut-that-will-kill-you, greasy-grimy-gopher-guts kind of funny. He’s the kind of funny that’s going to teach the 47 percent of America how to laugh and cry at the same time. That 47 percent that Romney referred to that I’m sure Trump doesn’t include when he talks about uniting the country.
The best thing I can think to say about Donald Trump is that he is mortal. Whatever harm he does to all of us will cease eventually. Even if the repercussions last decades that he himself can’t.
None of this should be taken in any way as an endorsement of Donald Trump. I promise that I will never endorse any candidate for president of the United States, ever, unless I am paid the big bucks I want for it.
Let probing minds make America great again:
Two months after Trump began his campaign, the State Department increased the price to relinquish your nationality by 422 percent. Now that Trump has clinched the nomination, another steep increase is anticipated. Write a 500-word essay explaining the principle of supply and demand using this increase in price as your central illustration.
While you’re at it, please explain to me how “relinquish your nationality” is a thing? They lost me there.