He is simply an illusion.
An ideal, wrapped in expensive suits, bronzed skin and aberrant hair, as unruly and undisciplined as the man beneath it.
The embodiment of political frustration by those in this nation who understandably wanted to be heard. To not be last in the minds of those in charge, and have their flag of truth, flying unfettered and free.
But Trump is no man of varied and valued opinions about the world at large, carefully thought out and presented in ways that invite analytical thought and reflection. In truth, he’s as clever and articulate as a UFC heavyweight, punching his opponent into unconsciousness while attempting to deliver a message.
And yet, there appears to be no subterfuge whatsoever in the man. Simply put, no actor, con man or politician exists who can weave a personality so consistently inconsistent and appear at any given moment to be so effective in its control of nothing in particular and yet, have all of this come across so authentically.
The strain of popping in an out of character would be exhausting, but there he is, day in and day out, appearing fresh and ready to joust with reality in a never-ending battle against whatever is still standing before him.
It is not politics that he rails against, nor is he motivated to drain the swamp, or right any subset of wrongs awaiting his signature. He possesses no evident tools nor sufficient patience to dig deep and find the hidden truth in anything that might wander through the Oval Office.
His penchant for touching upon six or seven topics in the space of 10 seconds or less, speaks more to a disinterest in anything that doesn’t forward a very personal agenda. In other words, it seems his most ardent fear, his most frightening nightmare is to have the real Donald Trump appear in public without his swashbuckling alter-ego doing his talking for him.
Not unlike a man handed a winning lotto ticket, Mr. Trump marched into the Oval Office in 2017 like a fox, strolling into a leadership role of the International Brotherhood of Chickens. Waking up the next day, not with an abiding sense of opportunity and destiny, but instead with a wicked laugh, a fist pump and a light-hearted dance to a Bee Gees tune.