Mr. Trump,
Take the average king. Sitting there all couchant-like on top of his rock or in the bush, mane pulled back by a breeze. He’s regal as fuck, isn’t he? He also gives off the appearance of sort of not giving a shit, but you’re not king by not giving a shit. It’s quite the opposite. The king spends an inordinate amount of time giving a shit, all while sometimes looking like he’s about to fall asleep. He surveys and identifies his enemies. He takes the daily pulse of his domain. I’m not a huge fan, but I also don’t think that you’ve been given nearly enough credit for that. You’ve half the country’s admiration.
A king, too, spends the majority of his dominion tolerating and letting slide the asinine behavior of the hyenas who nip at him. These ‘tards are so interested in the king, so interested in his fall. The king of course knows this and allows the nipping. He knows every mussed hyena by name that way. He knows their moves. He records these in his head, in an electronic file. The king saves all of his emails. He sleeps with one eye open. He is far from detached.
Then it happens. Where it’s time to eat or protect or remind the others who’s king. The lion gets up off his deceiving lazy ass at that point. May God have mercy on whoever is in his path.
You got up and you roared some time back, and the rest is American history. Was it to protect? I can see that. There’s times when I don’t recognize this country anymore, either.
Me? I’m roaring because my food has been fucked with. That’s if you consider getting fired recently fucking with someone’s food. I can hear and feel them cackling for my fall. You’re not a king without this cackling, though. And should a king fall, it’s only because he was king in the first place. Only kings and soldiers “fall.”
It’s beautiful this roar we share. Sometimes, though, even a king needs backup—a son, a brother, a union brother. I guess this is the place in the jungle where you and I split. You see, my union is fighting for my food to be restored to its rightful amount. I don’t know what I would do without them. Watching these brothers go on the offensive on my behalf is like watching missiles fly overhead. It sounds awesome, like the sky ripping open. Like an angry lion. I can’t see them land yet. It’s early.
I guess whenever I hear about your anti-union position, though, and I consider the elections right around the corner, I’m full of pause.
I’m full of undecided.
-tmc
Things Men Carry 