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Hail Trompf

June 12, 2017

Maybe T’s worst crime against American humanity, at least as seen from the point of view of this novel, is that he plays the part of a Totalitarian of Consciousness. To use a common metaphor: whenever he enters a room, he moves to suck up all the oxygen, so that, without his permission, no one else can breathe. Every public place or “space” in America can become his room, if he chooses to step into it. He tries to take possession of everyone in it.

Day and night, he takes possession of so much of America’s public consciousness, and for many of us, a sickening share of even our private consciousness, that as a citizenry, and as individuals, he allows us no reflection. He is not, himself, reflective, and yet he seems to know, intuitively, that he must prevent any second thought, and re-imaging, about any of his actions, or about our own lives—c’est à dire (in honor of the French electorate and Macron) about the soulfulness of Being and the state of our own souls, personal and collective.

His soul, as seen from the point of view of this novel, is deeply agonized. The pathos of the soul lives in its freedom of movement, its freedom of expressive action in all circumstances. One of its most important actions is its calm, quiet contemplation of being, in which it is able to imagine itself, not as a one-dimensional literalization of an other-directed stereotype, without depth of field, but as an infinitely varying (and ver-i-ing), creative relationship. It dances, by itself and with all others. In those moments, as Hillman proposed, the soul is able to re-create itself, and re-fresh itself. It “be’s” itself, its best self, in its logos, its word and its logic, its deep and multi-dimensional, reflective imagining and imaging.

That’s what it likes best, about life and about itself.

I’m thinking that T’s soul is imagining itself in the image of being stuck in the icy mud at the bottom of the River Styx. It lies there, unable to move, except to gasp for air.

(In mythology, this mud is known as The Trompf National Nightmare. Literally, it is The Republican Party.)

Thus T, the manchild ego, is hyper-active. He can’t stop himself. He dare not sleep. His lack of reflection, like a vampire without even a mirror to look into, produces a desperate lack of self-possession, that expresses itself in his attempt to possess all.

I’m thinking that this trait is also the epitome of his desire to establish a fascist regime, his ruling fantasy of a government as family corporation, of which he is CEO, that turns everything and everyone into a means of personal profit.

The workers greet each other in his name, with a proud, Heil (thumb and forefinger forming an o).

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