There aren’t enough derogatory words in the English language to describe my feelings about Donald Trump. For the moment, however, let it suffice to say that the poor man is afflicted with a severe case of narcissistic personality disorder. Experts on this condition say that Trump has no control over this affliction whatsoever, and — Heaven, help us all — there is no known cure. Oh, how I pity this poor wretch who has become the nation’s President-elect! And I shrink from contemplating the harm his personality disorder might inflict upon the people he’s about to lead.
But, what the heck! Let’s banish gloom and doom! Let’s look at the bright side! Every cloud has a silver lining, does it not? And I’ve found one — well, at least one for me. Congratulations are in order! See, I’m a political satirist. Now God in His Wisdom has given me Donald Trump to make fun of. I bow my head in gratitude. My cup runneth over.
Donald Trump is the biggest, fattest target for satire to come along since — well, who actually? I guess I’d have to say Benito Mussolini, the Italian Fascist dictator. I see The Donald and Il Duce as narcissistic soul brothers. They even look alike.
Both are shameless braggarts. At his 50th birthday party, Mussolini said, “I know I shouldn’t say this, but the truth is I’ve never met anybody who is more intelligent than me.” For his part, Trump claims that “my I.Q. is one of the highest on record.” (But he’s refused to release any I.Q. test score results.)
Now, I’m not at all reluctant to declare that Trump’s election is a profound calamity that has plunged me into the deepest despair. But, speaking in a purely professional sense, I can’t help thinking what great fun I’m going to have mocking this American would-be-Duce and all his minions! Frankly, I couldn’t be happier.