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Trump Pathetic

November 6, 2016

It’s hard to feel sympathetic toward Donald Trump, because he has hurt so many people and he poses so much danger for all of us. But he is not going to be President of the United States. He’ll never be in a position to do as much damage as, for instance, was done by My Man Dick Cheney (hero of My Man Mike Pence), not to mention someone like Hitler, who turned his heart to stone to put himself beyond the pale of sympathy.

Yet even Hitler was not of a different species from myself.

So putting Trump as potential destroyer out of the picture, I can see that he is significantly worse than most of us only in the degree to which, in campaigning, he has acted out our worst traits, and repressed our best, in himself. He has made himself into an image, and that is the meaning that his image provides.

In his innuendos, lies, and taunting, he has dared us to see him and to believe him. Arrogance, thy name is Trump! But there’s an omnipresent self sub-version. It’s as if, among all those venomous snakes growing out of a gorgon’s head, there is one little pink one, so that when you look at her (if you allow yourself to see), you aren’t turned into stone. You just have to laugh and shake your head.

It’s the revenge of the feminine.

Yet, believing in nothing but himself, he dares not look at himself.

Truth is too loathsome, to a man who can only dominate people, use them for his own ego gratification, and shame them.

What that means is that he is a haunted person. Soul in him writhes in its agony and cannot sleep. Dark archetypes run rampant. “Murder will out.” Like a “damned spot.” “The moral arc of the universe” keeps sweeping round and around.

But Trump’s deadly vision is apocalyptic. He says that everything is at the far reaches of what can be wrong with it. It’s the absolute worst ever. He, alone, the absolute worst ever, can turn everything around. Seriously, I think he is desperate to turn himself around before he absolutely self-destructs. I think he loathes himself, for what he has imagined, done, and failed to do, and for the mental disabilities that he suffers. And I think that (like the Koch brothers) he got that message from his dad.

Or am I projecting?

But by the way, in our imagination we’ve had the male Perseus slaying the female Gorgon, and the male St. George slaying the female (archetypically, in legend sometimes female sometimes male) dragon  Are we going to let the hyper/hypo male Trump slay our first major party woman nominee for President? I don’ think so.

Well, again I’ve waxed poetic here, enjoying these last pages. But when we’re attending to the soul, there is not so much distance between poetry, science, and therapy.

Others have catalogued Trump’s worst. I’ll damn him with faint praise. He is pathetic (he would feel the rebuke in that—and he would say he’d like to punch me in the face).

We’ll see what portion of an angry electorate is moved by his image, and identifies with his story.

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