Coupla years ago, doesn't matter how many, Donald J. Trump was being interviewed on the CNN television show "Larry King Live" by CNN's Larry King. He got good ratings. A lot of people watched, said Trump, later, in a different interview, when asked about why he would make a good president. Because a lotta people tuned in.
You ever seen Goodfellas? "As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster." Great opening line. Superb cinematography. Its cast resonates throughout mob televisual lore. I got this theory that Martin Scorsese's inability to tell a compelling third act is a cause of American moral degeneration. But anyways.
Anyways, here's the thing about the years between 2016 & 2019: Many serious people, intelligent people, a lot of people in my life, we spent a great deal of time thinking and talking about Donald J. Trump, such contradictions he embodied as a game show host turned a high-ranking Constitutional official.
Here's how I explain it. Here's how I ask you, to keep it from being a voice in my head. Here's something I'm pretty sure I just picked up somewhere on Twitter. Donald Trump is the kind of guy who falls asleep every night with "Goodfellas" on the TV at full volume. Do you have any idea what that means?
Again: the type of man who falls asleep with Goodfellas on the TV at full volume. I have seen no better descriptor than that, which I most certainly ripped off Twitter.
So anyways, one night Trump's got the TV on, and he's president, predictably irrationally unhappy about whatever, but also irrationally predictably really boastful too, so he starts to tweet something about how great he is despite all the shit he gets. He writes: "Despite the constant negative press covfefe" and that's it. lol lol wtf
The epilogue is bad. The tweet stays up for like six hours, and we go to bed laughing, making memes, imagining the possibilities. Soon, every very online person and morning TV news host making jokes about it. Coffee puns. And worst of all, The White House pretends like it's some in-joke. But I gotta tell ya, you know, having lived through it, alone in my unlit living room, looking at a screen. What exactly in those dark and quiet six hours before the tail awoke again to wag the dog, that something for a moment, that uncertainty? Either something wrong went seriously wrong, or else just it's showbiz as usual: the TV's on, the violence is blaring, the volume's full-blast, and not a wide eye in the house.