No Kings Day

When absurdity becomes power, mockery is a duty.

I’m very excited about No King’s Day because I hate Trump. The politics, of course, are on a ridiculous level of insanity, but more than anything else, I just don’t like him. I don’t want him in the White House, and I dislike him when he’s back home in Florida. I don’t like his family, his advisors, or anyone who works for him. I hate looking at his body, the way he dresses, and the senile, half-formed way he makes sentences. It’s offensive to my sensibilities.

He has cheapened the Presidency and degraded the government. Most of his policies are terrible—often flat-out stupid. What’s worse is seeing people I once knew, people I thought of as reasonable, turn into fans of Trump. I never talk about it with them, but they were always foolish in a quiet way. A stupid President has a way of bringing out the foolishness in others, like a security blanket they suddenly can’t let go of. They cling to that filthy fabric as if hell itself might break loose without it. You can see the resentment simmering in them, building up over the years, until the volcano finally erupted.

The only other clown I can think of is Alfred Jarry’s Ubu Roi, written in 1896, which pretty much sums up Trump. Ubu Roi is a grotesque buffoon who obtains power by being vulgar, childish, and, most of all, gluttonous. His weapon is absurdity. To prove his “authenticity,” Roi insults everyone and tramples etiquette. Trump is exactly the same. It’s strange to think he could have stepped straight out of the avant-garde 19th century, but he grasped something essential: you don’t have to be smart to obtain power—you just have to demand it.

As reality sets in and the middle and working class realize they won’t get any help from Trump or his White House, maybe they’ll finally have their “ah ha” moment. They’ve been fooled at least twice—will they go for the third?

My only suggestion today: go out on the streets, make some noise, and have fun.