The Big Idiot President Is Not Getting Himself Impeached On Purpose, C'mon

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A real fucking genius.
A real fucking genius.
Photo: Chip Somodevilla (Getty)

Would you get a load of this shit:

Image for article titled The Big Idiot President Is Not Getting Himself Impeached On Purpose, C'mon

Donald Trump is not trying to get impeached. He does not want to be impeached, and he definitely does not have a sophisticated dastardly plot to turn his impeachment into greater personal power or as a strategy to create a more solidified and motivated political base. He does not have a sophisticated dastardly plot to do anything, or any other kind of plot. The man is not capable of sophistication, or any but the basest sensation-seeking dastardliness; it’s all he can do to get the fast food from its cardboard container to the appropriate face-hole. He is a big stupid idiot, is what I am saying, and he likes things that feel good and wants them right now and doesn’t like things that don’t feel good and doesn’t want them ever, and that is the extent of him.


Donald Trump has been portraying himself, accurately, as a degenerate, penny-ante dullard for his entire life. When he opens his mouth, when he talks about himself: “I am a degenerate, penny-ante dullard” is the only thing he can say. When he insists he is actually a tremendously smart man, he is saying “I’m a degenerate, penny-ante dullard.” When he says Buy these fabulous mail-order steaks, really truly high-class steaks, many people, fabulous, do we love them, you hear them saying Trump—big guys, tough, they’re saying—you know, Trump, does he have the best steaks or what, he is saying “I’m a degenerate, penny-ante dullard.” When he makes business decisions, when he makes dinner orders, when he attempts to stand up as normal humans do, when he combs his hair: he has made of himself and of his life a monument to the smallness of his perspective and intellect and character. Because he is a soft, breathless, foam-boned inheritance baby with a brain like a wet saltine cracker, because he has been crippled and made monstrous by money and endless permission and therefore cannot conceive of there being any truth or morality beyond what he wants right now, he never knows that this is what he’s doing and also never will. That’s exactly why it’s the only thing he has ever done.

None of this is a part of some scheme. There is never a scheme. He is not sandbagging. He is not playing four-dimensional chess. Donald Trump is not capable of four-dimensional chess. Put Donald Trump in a thumb war against a department-store mannequin and he will be lucky to escape with a draw. He will call it victory. What’s infinitely depressing is how many of his nominal political opponents will believe him.


The weirdest, saddest, and most unhelpful people, maybe in all the world, are: boomer liberals (like the leadership of the Democratic party, for example) who look upon Donald Trump’s lifelong track record of failing at petty crook shit—doing petty crook shit and not only getting away with it but in many cases declaring his failure a great success, and then being rewarded with greater fame and stature in turn—and insist they are seeing the work of a mastermind, rather than the tides of American life and culture carrying yet another born-rich shit-for-brains white asshole past and above any and all demands and consequences. The idea of Trump is the sucker-ass belief in meritocracy, in hoary old Great Man bullshit, twisted into its most horrible gargoyle incarnation. He’s rich and famous, he’s the president of the country, and therefore it just simply must be the case that he has earned this station for himself, one way or another, via some expression of traits that make him equal to it. He has to be some kind of genius, even if it’s the evil kind. There is no way that a braying worthless dope, a man with no qualities of any kind to recommend him, could have ended up where Trump has ended up.

And now that investigations into Donald Trump’s campaign and also into his efforts to thwart and obstruct those same investigations—investigations about which he has been in a panicky and very public rage since well before his inauguration—have moved him into the crosshairs of impeachment, the meritocracy dead-enders in the opposition party believe that this must be happening because he wills it. His almost comically brazen and plainly illegal attempts to silence, discredit, and outright threaten the people doing and/or cooperating with the investigations must reflect some active and strategic desire to be impeached. He must be laying a trap: If Congress impeaches him, he will not be mad, he will be laughing actually. The alternative is that the very obviously hopelessly dimwitted lifelong failure currently sitting atop a pile of inherited and/or pilfered cash in the most powerful office on earth is precisely as stupid and balloon-handed and incompetent as he has spent his entire adult life proving himself to be. America just doesn’t work like that.

That’s the thing being fought over, ultimately. The question of whether to impeach Donald Trump is, among other things, the question of how to defeat him. The question of how to defeat him is, among other things, the question of what he really is in the first place: Is he just Donald Trump The Illiterate Racist Sex Clown or is he the Republican Party or is he the deeper and more fundamental articles of American life and history? That, in turn, is the question of what kind of society this really is. Is it one in which vast material inequalities are mere flukes of circumstance, or is that situation the just allocation of reward, or is it the residue of systemic theft by a class of cruel moral dwarves, or what?

Which is to say: When you credit Donald Trump, in the absence of absolutely any evidence, with possessing the Mephistophelian cunning to bring about his own impeachment, deliberately, for the purpose of bringing to fruition some long-simmering plot to consolidate his political support, you are finally saying that you agree with him. Not just on the baseless claim that he’s actually in possession of one (1) Whole Adult Brain, but on his broader infantile idea of what kind of place this country is. He believes that he deserves what he has because he has it, and his every decision flows from that belief; he believes that being rich and famous, alone, is proof that he should be rich and famous. To see him as he sees himself—as a sinister mastermind—and treat him as he believes he should be treated is to agree with him on all that.


More than that, it’s believing in a world where Donald Trump surely must be three steps ahead of his opposition, precisely because he’s richer and more powerful and more famous than them. It’s believing that, because he got elected president even though other smart and rich people were trying to defeat him, he therefore must be the very best at all of this—better at it, surely, than the people who want to defeat him.

In which case, sure, oppose impeaching him. Why wouldn’t you want him to be president, anyway?