One Annoying Cat

With few exceptions, the Trump White House was basically a gathering of toadies whose job was to coddle and pacify, and dismiss and defend immature behavior. It’s both pathetic and rage inducing, and the opposite of comforting.

The “adults in the room” no doubt had their hands full, but let’s not forget that most of them simply liked being where they were— mindful of the idiot “in charge,” but also starstruck, on the inside, at the seat of power, standing to benefit, somehow, hopeful of advancing their own careers.

It’s an arguable point whether or not people took jobs in this administration out of a sense of concern, as if their presence could somehow be a steadying influence. I can imagine very few turning down an opportunity to work in the White House, regardless of who the President is.

I guess what bothers me the most about the Trump years (and they’re still going on, in some ways) is this unshakeable feeling that he was and will remain so unfit for the job, that he has always been in over his head, that in reality he’s a toddler in adult clothing who has rarely not gotten his way.

Trump is an unlikeable, obnoxious, seedy, needy, self-centered blabbermouth who loves the sound of his own grating voice, who lives for the chip on his shoulder and the adulation and obedience of his minions. His emergence on the political scene has been nothing but one long record scratch. And he doesn’t have the good sense to go away. Maybe, given the current state of affairs, he will be going away shortly.

Nah, probably not.

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