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Lesbians Trumped

Published: 
Friday, March 4, 2016

The very worst thing of the very many bad things about a Donald Drumpf presidency, of course, is that it would put into shatteringly realistic perspective the Barack Obama presidency: in a single day—next November 8—all our daring to hope of the last eight years would be dashed to nothingness because, if Donald Firetrucking Drumpf could become the US president, then any jackass could; and Barack Obama, despite our own delusions, is nothing more than a jackass we happen to like.

Drumpf, by the way, is The Donkey’s own ancestral Germanic surname, which some earlier Drumpf wisely changed; it even sounds like an inner city version of “Dumb mo’fo”. John Oliver, of HBO’s Last Week Tonight, just launched a campaign to “Make Donald Drumpf Again” which I’m supporting (and which is the least you might expect from someone who proposed referring to the world’s greatest problem only by the name it deserves, viz, the Shaitanic State; there is very great power in what you consciously choose to call a thing; consider the difference between “refugees” and “migrants”; or “terrorists” and “martyrs”.)

Whether or not his campaign continues to rise, Donald Drumpf (c’mon, people, let’s make it happen) has already gone down in history as the man who proved that it doesn’t matter one firetruck what you say on the world’s most important political stage, only whether you can get people to click the “Like” button on Facebook. Drumpf is living, blabbering proof that, today, people don’t care whether you lie, contradict yourself, trumpet your bigotry, are openly sneeringly racist and treat the election of the American president like just another season of your mediocre, humiliation-based reality TV show; Donald Drumpf has shown us all the emperor’s new clothes.

A Republican presidential nominee wannabe ignoramus like Drumpf can even openly advocate war crime—ie, the murder of the families of Islamic militants—and the re-establishment of concentration camps and, via this very plummeting away from human decency, race away from his competition. Whatever it might mean for all humanity, not just the Americans, the wise punter would bet on Drumpf becoming the Republican nominee for president; indeed, those with an eye for the profitable unlikely long shot might be calculating the odds of betting on whether he will get a second term.

If ever there were a politician of our times, it is The Donkey.

Drumpf is what you get when you take, to the logical extreme, the habit of our age of forgiving anyone anything as long as he keeps refilling the coffers or hitting lowest-common-denominator targets. He is the US politics version of the Uruguayan striker who has actually bitten three different players on the football field—if he were a dog, he could be lawfully put down under Trinidadian legislation—but has been paid more and more money for sinking his teeth, not so much into his career as into the opposing team. 

Donald Drumpf, like the Barcelona Biter, demonstrates that there is no discernment left. The world lives in the hope of the American electorate coming to its senses in time; the world fails to understand Bill Maher is right: the American electorate is just plain stoopid!

So sharpen your razorblades, all you idealists, and get the bathwater warm; you may need them sooner than you think.

More upsetting this week than even the rise and rise of The Donkey, though, was the escalation of the war on humanity in Indonesia. The world, perhaps understandably, is sharply focussed on US politics and the movement of people into Europe; but, in Indonesia, the world’s largest Muslim country, the God-fearing, Koran-toting government was stepping up stepping on LGBT toes.

Succeeding where the great homo-hating nation of Russia failed, the Indonesians have banned “gay” emojis, LGBT-friendly versions of those little icons you can find on your phone keyboard. In Jakarta, you can download a Smiley face with a turban or a drawing of a kitten weeping, but the Negative Content Management Panel of the Indonesian Ministry of Information, ostensibly upholding “standards of values and morals,” has banned tiny cartoons of men holding hands, or a three-cartoon-face version of a family featuring a daughter and her two mothers (or a son and his two dads). The ban is expected to be extended to all popular apps and sites. 

The irony of “gay” emojis being banned from Facebook, which helped kick-start the woefully misnamed Arab Spring, will be missed entirely in the Sharia law-enforcing Indonesian province of Aceh, where Christina Aguilera’s kiss-on-the-lips this week with her new—female—protégé on the talent show, The Voice, would have earned her 100 lashes.

But neither the voters of America nor the Indonesian Friends of Dorothy were the worst off people this week. That dubious honour goes to the victims of Catholic priest paedophiles in Australia, who, after the testimony of the Vatican’s Cardinal Pell to the Australian enquiry into the crimes of the Church’s unholy men, publicly asked Pope Francis to intervene. You could say they haven’t a prayer.

And so we stumble on for another week, towards November and the American Nightmare, or this weekend, and the Friday night in Jakarta—or Moscow, or Mecca—pastime of beating half-to-death any human beings who don’t fit into the gender and sexual orientation patterns of the Middle Ages, or Sunday morning, and the love that dare not speak its name outside the sacristy.

And, in all three cases, the perpetrators of nearly unbearable harm to our species will not even question their actions, or their attitudes, stemming, as they all do, from almighty God or the mighty dollar.

 BC Pires is still hoping for the Democrats to play the Sanders trump. Read more of his writing at www.BCPires.com

 

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