Wicklow People

New Year, same POTUS soap opera as past returns to haunt ‘genius’ Resolutely turning over a new green leaf to start the year with a clear mind

- David.looby@peoplenews.ie

HAPPY NEW YEAR! As we enter this new year, one full of promise, goodwill and hope – we are constantly reminded that a certain Donald Trump (DT) is still in the White House.

The revelation­s writ large in Michael Wolff’s Fire and Fury book made for sobering reading on Saturday morning as I reclined, trying to relax in my man chair. The President of the United States (POTUS) has once again managed to eclipse all news with his ego and the colossal scale of his repugnancy. It is claimed humanity first stalked the earth 200,000 years ago. A lot of evolution has occurred since. Vast improvemen­ts in communicat­ions, education, science, healthcare, etiquette etc have been made. For all these advances, some humans, including arguably the most powerful and influentia­l man on earth, still cling to the more basic and base of human traits: greed, aggression, impulsiven­ess.

Not one who normally plays finger wagging preacher, it is incumbent on me, and all of us, to keep up-to-speed with what is happening in the White House because it affects hundreds of millions of lives. Under Barack Obama we had a popular crowd pleaser, yes, but also a man of intellect and social conscience who, unlike his immediate predecesso­r, seemed to actually care about the people under his charge. For many the business mogul is the embodiment of the American dream. He shoots from the hip, is himself and fights his corner. There is an obsession with killers in crime shows in America and also here. Psychologi­sts say this obsession is borne of the gratificat­ion of a desire in viewers to see someone do whatever they want. This freedom of thought and action is also found in Donald Trump, whose former press secretary Sean Spicer was often overheard saying: ‘You couldn’t make this sh** up’’ following his master’s off-the-cuff remarks. Over recent weeks, DT has cajoled and mocked Kim Jong un, a man he refers to as ‘little rocket man’. In a Freudian volte face DT announced that his nuclear button is ‘much bigger and more powerful’ than Kim’s – ‘and my button works!’.

As President, DT has continued playing the Apprentice judge, hiring and firing at an alarming rate.

His family have assumed roles previously reserved for seasoned political heavyweigh­ts.

The revealtion­s of the Fire and Fury book reveal - in Wolff and apparently Brietbart’s Steve Bannon’s words – how childish and impulsive DT is. In an interview following its release on Friday, he said: ‘The one descriptio­n that everyone gave: they all say he is like a child. The need for immediate gratificat­ion. It’s all about him.’

Claiming full access to the White House and its staff Wolff writes of growing unease and a marked lack of respect for the President, who is described in a plethora of negative adjectives ranging from moron to idiot. In a typical Trumpian response he declared on Twitter – in an attempt at public redemption in the face of such an incendiary book – ‘Throughout my life, my two greatest assets have been mental stability and being, like, really smart. Crooked Hillary Clinton also played these cards very hard and, as everyone knows, went down in flames. I went from VERY successful businessma­n, to top T.V. Star to President of the United States (on my first try). I think that would qualify as not smart, but genius .... and a very stable genius at that!’

Like any child, DT had to have the last word. ERMIONE, oh fairest, I have a New Year’s resolution.’ ‘Yes, darling?’

My heart’s desire greeted the announceme­nt with a tone of suspicion, ceasing briefly from her exertions at the stove. She looked over to where I was reading my newspaper in the easy chair by the range, her finely pencilled eyebrow raised in scorn.

‘I thought you never made New Year’s resolution­s. I thought you said New Year’s resolution­s were strictly for the foolish and the deluded. I thought you believed that New Year’s resolution­s never last beyond the third week of January.

‘If I recall your last New Year’s resolution correctly, it was a solemn undertakin­g to do more work in the kitchen – and look what happened that. Ha!’ She rolled the sleeves of housecoat further up her shapely arms, adjusted her rubber gloves, and returned to her pot-walloping.

‘That was 2005,’ I stammered. ‘This is different.’ I waved the paper at her, or at least I waved it at her back. ‘This report says that a portion of salad every day helps to ward off Alzheimer’s.’

‘Ha! I think I preferred the report which suggested that a glass of red wine each evening wards off Alzheimer’s. ‘And what about your theory that solving crosswords wards off Alzheimer’s? Or a daily four kilometre walk? Or french kissing?’ She tossed the pot aside and began scrubbing potatoes.

‘French kissing? I hadn’t heard that one but I can see how it might improve blood supply to the brain. I’d be happy to give it a try…’ No response. Not even a Kerr’s Pink fired low and hard at eye level. Just a blizzard of potato skin as Hermione switched her energies from bristle brush to peeler.

‘Anyway, this business about the salad seems to have plenty of scientific backing. So I have resolved to sprinkle lunch with salad leaves from now on. This is not just a January thing. This is serious lifestyle management. As of now, lunch and leaves are synonymous.

‘Perhaps you would care to join me? And perhaps you would be so good as to add rocket and spinach to your shopping list.’

When the potato came it was actually a Rooster, and it caught me full on the forehead before I had any chance to defend myself…

It turned out that my nearest and dearest had her own New Year’s resolution. Hermione decided that I must be the one to do the shopping. And so it was that I found myself, list in hand, wandering around the aisles of the Our Town supermarke­t and peering through shop windows along the main street.

Brown rice, tick. Brown bread, tick. Brown sugar, tick. Low-salt rashers, tick. Low-fat milk, tick. Low-calorie fry spray. Yes, that really did read low calorie fry spray, not fly spray. The flies are far too busy buzzing around to count calories. Tick.

Sugar-free cola – who drinks this muck? – tick. Gluten-free porridge, tick. Additive-free soy sauce, tick. High-energy drinks, low GI bread. It struck me as I went through the list that we appear to be eating increasing­ly for effect rather than for mere taste.

It is, of course, the case that the correct balance of foods will assist in achieving good blood pressure, sturdy bones, improved night vision – and maybe even delayed onset of Alzheimer ’s disease. My New Year’s salad leaves were just the latest addition to a diet which comes dripping with all sorts of worthy intentions.

A blend of rocket and beet foliage, they came, by the way, in an impeccably sealed plastic bag, all the way from Staffordsh­ire in the UK of all places. Lobbing them into my shopping basket, I immediatel­y added a second resolution in the interest of saving not only the planet but also Ireland’s balance of trade. My firm intention is to grow a steady supply of green leaves for as many months as our climate will allow.

Walking home, I recalled a joke to tell Hermione. I thought it might cheer her up as she seems to be working awfully hard in the kitchen these days…

College is not what it was. You can take a degree in just about anything now. A BA in baloney, a master’s in mistresses or a PhD in codology. There’s even one university offering a course in salad studies. That’s right, you spend three years on campus and then graduate with lettuce after your name.

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