Trump pushes our hot buttons

This is what I thought when I heard the cable news glitterati becoming apoplectic over President Trump’s tweet about his “big button” and how well it worked: Yes. Speaking nicely to Kim Jong Un will guarantee our safety. Sending him a Cheese Of The Month Club subscription will help, too.

Come on, does anyone really think that admittedly childish, stupid tweets are going to trigger a nuclear holocaust?

Did Nikita Kruschev crush us? Were the Missiles of October launched because of insults? Deep breath, people. It seemed to me that the media were jonesing on this daily fix of Trump inanity, but that this time they really needed some rhetorical Narcan, otherwise the overdose would be fatal.

You had the guys on CNN saying that this was evidence of Trump’s mental instability.

The people on MSNBC had one of those New Year’s countdown clocks with a picture of his face and a big “X” through it (22:59, 58, 57, 56 ...)

And on Fox you had a blockbuster update about Hillary Clinton’s emails.

The point is, everyone except Fox was convinced that this “Mine Is Bigger Than Yours” tweet was going to end in Armageddon, in complete violation of the 38th Parallel, er, Amendment that says sticks and stones may break my bones but names will just make me look sophomoric.

It is really amazing to me how people who I considered fairly educated and sober have become Chicken Littles with Post Traumatic Prez Syndrome, believing that he has the power to destroy us with his mouth.

I look at professors, ex military, journalists, lawyers and sitting politicians cringe in fear as if they were trapped in that Twilight Zone episode where that creepy little boy can zap you into oblivion by saying “you’re a mean man!”

The fact that I even have to say this is proof positive that we, not Trump, have gone mad.

As I have taken pains to establish on numerous occasions, I am not a fan of the president, and I do not think that he has the temperament or the gravitas to hold this most awesome of offices.

But I also respect that awesome office, and the fact that under the constitutional system that binds us as a nation, Donald Trump is our leader.

I do not have to agree with all of his policies (which I don’t,) and I don’t have to agree with his tone (which I most certainly don’t) but I’m sick of the hysterics employed by everyone from the ladies on “The View” to some retired generals on George Soros’ payroll.

Trump is the kind of fellow who doesn’t take elocution lessons, doesn’t possess Shakespearean eloquence, doesn’t care if he offends the people already predisposed to hate him.

That is who he is, and the lamentations over his lack of couth and class and compassion are as substantive as the fainting spells of the Victorian virgins.

No one cares if Chris Cuomo and Rachel Maddow have the vapors. No one. And that is why the continued drumbeat of “he said what?” makes his supporters roll their eyes and make excuses for him, and convinces the rest of us who are willing to keep an open mind that the media is fabricating stories, not reporting them.

This is not to say that I think they are engaging in “false news.” I do, in fact, believe that the apple is an apple, and not a banana.

I am not distracted by the dancing dentures. I tune out the president when he starts accusing the media of lying (they don’t, they just exaggerate.)

But I cannot take them seriously when they start treating tweets as if they were the ballistic missiles set to boomerang against us, as the prime targets of Donald Strangelove.

Trump said he has a big button. Fine, I’ll take him at his word as, I think, will Kim Jong Un. Lil’ Kim does not strike me as the kind of person who is willing to risk annihilation to make a political statement. If he is, being polite is not going to change that. Which is my point. Getting upset about the words our president uses is justified if you’re an English teacher, but it shouldn’t be used as a weapon in this quixotic attempt to impeach him.

If you don’t like his tweets, don’t read them Better yet, tie on a fluffy pink crochet hat, make yourself a chai tea latte and a vegan muffin, binge-watch “The Handmaid’s Tale” and then take a nap.

America will still be here when you wake up.