The closest store to our farmhouse is a Dollar General. As a rule, I avoid its crowded, unkempt aisles, but our well-water has a high sulfur content, so we buy drinking water at the Dollar General. On a recent trip, on my way to the water aisle, I passed through the home decorating section and noticed a gold medallion. I had seen that medallion before hanging on a wall. But where? Then I remembered, on the wall of the Oval Office, which now looks like, choose one, a) a Victorian Era brothel b) Elvis’s bedroom at Graceland c) a Dollar General or d) all the above.
In the past, an American President violating the law would be held accountable by the United States Attorney General, but with AG Pam Bondi having sold her soul to the Orange Devil, and the majority leaders of the House and Senate having done the same, it’s now up to the National Park Service to prohibit Donald Trump from desecrating the White House, which falls under their stewardship and oversight as a national park. It is, after all, America’s house, not his. He’s a renter. We’re the landlords.
Our farm shares a mile-long border with the Hoosier National Forest. The officers in charge have little tolerance for anything that would harm the forest’s health. I’ve seen out-of-season hunters arrested, illegal timber cutters cited and fined, polluters hounded to the gates of hell and brought to justice. But Donald Trump can pave over the national treasure that was the Rose Garden, tack on a 90,000 square foot ball room onto the East Wing, which, if past is prologue, will be clad in vinyl siding, deck out the Oval Office in gold-painted tchotchkes from a Big Lots discount table, install immense American flags befitting a car dealership, and no one is stopping him. Having failed to name the Kennedy Center after his gold-digging wife, and with the Trump Hotel in the nation’s capital no more, he is determined to attach his name to something in Washington D.C. that will outlive however many pitiful years he has left, and dear Jesus, may they be few.
What’s next? A Walmart in Lafayette Park? A blinking cross on the White House roof? Replacing Blair House with a McDonald’s? A trailer park on the South Lawn? A Nazi addition to the Smithsonian? A statue of Putin on the National Mall? It is a tasteless and gaudy presidency, led by a tasteless and gaudy man.
How ironic that the man who claims to be the nation’s greatest builder has nothing of beauty to show for his efforts. Not one federal initiative to assist the poor and powerless. Not one word of hope to careworn citizens. Not one soaring speech to unite a nation. Not one moment of courage in the presence of tyranny, only ugliness and manipulation. Not one word of condemnation for the world’s bullies. Expertise had been replaced with extremism in this trinket-based presidency. Top-secret emails sent to reporters, official papers left in a hotel business center in Alaska, the pandemic response team dismantled, the National Weather Service gutted, FEMA replaced with thoughts and prayers, the swift dismemberment of a democracy nearly 250 years in the making.
Through it all, Trump struts, longing for an elegance he will never attain, since elegance has nothing to do with wealth, but with dignity, a trait he has never possessed. All the golden trinkets in the world cannot confer it, but still he tries. Golden medallions, golden furniture, golden toilets, golden chandeliers, golden watches, golden vases, even golden hair, now faded to orange. Those who surround him, currying his favor, will also fade, in power today, in disgrace tomorrow. The word Trumpian will enter our lexicon, synonymous with vulgarity. Watch and see. Just as Benedict Arnold means treason, so the name of Trump will mean tasteless. Abraham Lincoln was born impoverished but cloaked himself in dignity. Trump was born rich but swathes himself in golden raiment, hiding his moral rot.
Philip Gulley is the author ofthe popularHarmony seriesandUnlearning God: How Unbelieving Helped Me Believe.
Discover my books, stories, and more by visiting Books by Philip Gulley
Contact Philip directly at philiphgulley@gmail.com
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