Trump tales telling sign of tawdry times
On Friday morning, readers visiting In Touch Weekly’s website in search of mindless celebrity gossip were instead subjected to disturbing mental images.
Actually, even before the magazine published a nearly 6,000-word story in which the queasiness was foreshadowed by the headline — “Stormy Daniels’ Explosive Full Interview on Donald Trump Affair: ‘I Can Describe His Junk Perfectly’ ” — this tale had moved past sordid and deep into #TooMuchInformation territory after a piece in Mother Jones.
I’m scared to close my eyes in case I see Ms. Daniels agreeing to the future U.S. president’s mild S&M request and spanking him with a rolled-up Forbes magazine in which he’s on the cover. I may never get a decent sleep now that my dreams will be haunted by the rococo sight of Trump sprawled on a hotel bed in his rich-guy loungewear, beckoning to the star of films such as Sexbots, Madam, Operation Desert Stormy and United States of Ass to join him between the silk sheets as he assumes the missionary position and goes buck wild.
The Wall Street Journal, not exactly a bastion of anti-Trump liberal bias, broke the story of the alleged affair this month. According to the paper, just before the U.S. election, a Trump lawyer funnelled $130,000 in hush money to Daniels through a shell company. Trump and Daniels deny there was an affair.
But as it turns out, the porn star already spilled the beans in 2011.
After passing a polygraph test, she sat down with In Touch that year and exhaustively detailed an affair that she says started in 2006 after a golf tournament.
Published for the first time on Friday, this Q&A isn’t just chock-ablock with gag-inducing images of Trump pursuing Daniels just one year after he married Melania. It also reveals chitchat snippets that are baffling. You know how some people are masters in the art of seduction? You know how some people have, like, PhDs in pillow talk and can conjure poetic similes and metaphors to flatter their lovers?
Apparently, Trump isn’t one of these people.
Daniels to In Touch: “He kept rubbing my leg and was like, ‘You know, you’re so beautiful. I love your little nose, it’s like a little beet.’ I go, ‘Did you say a beet? Like, what the f---?’ I started giving him a hard time about it. And he goes, ‘No, no, no, no! It’s majestic. It’s a very smart nose, like an eagle.’ ”
I can only assume Trump had taken a golf ball to the noggin just before unleashing this cryptic sweet talk. Did he say her eyes reminded him of glow-in-the-dark Frisbees? Did he stroke her hair and marvel at how it felt like one of those brushes used to scrub dirty racehorses? Or maybe his compliments were genuine and he was truly blown away by her regal snout that seemed part edible crimson taproot, part bird of prey with a high IQ.
I’m not sure. But speaking of animals, Daniels also reveals a new Trump phobia that was previously unknown: Selachophobia. Yes, in addition to his fear of germs, mi- norities, democracy and low-fat snacking, it seems Trump is also scared of sharks.
Recalling one rendezvous inside a private bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel, Daniels tells In Touch: “The strangest thing about that night — this was the best thing ever. You could see the television from the little dining room table and he was watching Shark Week and he was watching a special about the U.S.S. something and it sank and it was like the worst shark attack in history. He is obsessed with sharks. Terrified of sharks. He was like, ‘I donate to all these charities and I would never donate to any charity that helps sharks. I hope all the sharks die.’ ”
Note to the Democrats: ring up Katy Perry and ask if she can hook you up with her stash of Super Bowl shark costumes, which you should wear to Trump’s State of the Union address. When he talks about immigration, re-enact scenes from Jaws. When he lies about this or that, rush the stage in a menacing blur of dorsal fins and Great White teeth until he jumps into the arms of Paul Ryan.
All of this would be funny if it weren’t so sad.
Even in these tawdry times, in which the sex lives of public figures are routinely analyzed in graphic detail, Friday’s In Touch exposé felt like one step too far down the rabbit hole of depravity.
Whether it’s a wildly torqued story about a bad date with Aziz Ansari or a story in which a current world leader is reduced to his boudoir peccadillos, we are getting dangerously close to a point in which nothing is shocking and everything is consumed as an ephemeral sideshow.
Consider this: on Saturday, the one-year anniversary of Trump’s inauguration, Daniels will perform at a South Carolina strip club as part of what organizers are calling the “Make America Horny Again” tour. It’s sure to be a media circus.
Now, if someone could just Make America Decent Again.