To MAGA crowd, Trump is a rock star

The Georgia Straight - - Music - by Mike Usinger

One of the most hor­ri­fy­ing things about the atroc­ity that is Don­ald J. Trump’s pres­i­dency is the way the man seems made of Te­flon.

It’s not like the up­stand­ing mu­si­cians of Amer­ica haven’t taken re­peated shots de­signed to in­flict max­i­mum po­lit­i­cal dam­age. And by “mu­si­cians”, we don’t mean crust-punk skids in three-chord hard­core bands with names like the Knifestab­bers, Red Vomit, or Vi­cious Shart, but rather le­git­i­mate leg­ends.

What do un­likely bed­fel­lows like Axl Rose, Adele, Neil Young, Ri­hanna, R.E.M., Cher, Mi­ley Cyrus, and Meek Mill all have in com­mon? (Be­sides hav­ing more money than you and your ex­tended fam­ily ever will, mak­ing their opin­ions more valid than any­thing you’ll ever have to of­fer.) The an­swer is that they’ve all come out swing­ing against the guy most likely to play Mr. Orange in a Reser­voir Dogs re­boot.

Each of them has taken to Twit­ter, In­sta­gram, Face­book, Vine, Wattpad, and the pop-cul­ture jug­ger­naut Mys­pace to call out the leader of the free world as a racist, sex­ist shit­head, moth­er­for­ni­ca­tor, cli­mate-change­deny­ing clown, and fol­licly freak­ish fuck­wit.

Be­cause tweets and In­sta­gram posts are im­me­di­ately lost in the end­less white noise that is the In­ter­net, some artists have gone so far as to take di­rect aim at Trump while stand­ing in front of the mike.

Re­mem­ber, if you will, Eminem de­liv­er­ing a vitri­olic freestyle against the 72-year-old shit­stain who’s cur­rently stink­ing up the Oval Of­fice, tak­ing shots at ev­ery­thing from Mr. Mango’s im­mi­gra­tion poli­cies to his golf va­ca­tions to his man-crush on dis­turbingly coiffed Korean sex­pot Kim Jong-un. Mar­shall Mathers fin­ished his rap by spit­ting a ven­omous “Fuck you” at Trump, call­ing on mil­lions of Eminem fans to take ac­tion against the pres­i­dent, and adding the fi­nal salvo “The rest of Amer­ica stand up/we love our mil­i­tary and we love our coun­try/but we fuck­ing hate Trump!!!”

Don’t re­mem­ber that? That’s all right—no one else does ei­ther. Just like 17 min­utes from now, no one will re­mem­ber Ri­hanna this past week tak­ing le­gal ac­tion to stop Trump (who wouldn’t know Ri­hanna from a rump roast) from play­ing her mu­sic at his dis­turbingly Third Re­ich–like ral­lies across Amer­ica.

In sce­nar­ios that the Bar­ba­dos-born me­gas­tar called “tragic”, aides cranked Ri­hanna’s “Don’t Stop the Mu­sic” while fir­ing Trump T-shirts into the crowd in such cul­tur­ally en­light­ened lo­cales as Chat­tanooga, Ten­nessee. That none of the id­iots in the au­di­ence knew Ri­hanna from an au­then­tic Bar­ba­dos rum punch (recipe as fol­lows: one of sour, two of sweet, three of strong, four of weak) was en­tirely be­side the point. It was the free shit that counted.

Don’t re­mem­ber Riri tak­ing a stand ei­ther? That’s all right—nei­ther does any­one else by this point. Just like, by this time to­mor­row, ev­ery­one will have for­got­ten that Neil Young—who’s pre­vi­ously banned Trump from play­ing “Rockin’ in the Free World” at his ral­lies—took to the web to call him out this week­end.

Trump had sug­gested that the wild­fires that just dec­i­mated Cal­i­for­nia (in­clud­ing one of Young’s homes) were caused by the mis­man­age­ment of forests by those he hadn’t got around to drain­ing from the swamp yet.

Young took to his own web­site to re­spond with “Imag­ine a leader who de­fies science, say­ing these so­lu­tions shouldn’t be part of his de­ci­sion-mak­ing on our be­half. Imag­ine a leader who cares more for his own, con­ve­nient op­tion than he does for the peo­ple he leads. Imag­ine an un­fit leader. Now imag­ine a fit one.”

He could have writ­ten “Imag­ine an Amer­ica where the opin­ions of Neil Young, Eminem, Cher, Prince, and as­sorted mem­bers of Cleve­land punk ag­i­ta­tors Cum Fart ac­tu­ally have some weight.” Ex­cept they don’t with Te­flon Don, whose end­less spin­ning of ev­ery crit­i­cism into an­other ex­am­ple of “fake news” has proven fas­ci­nat­ingly ef­fec­tive.

What’s hor­ri­fy­ing—not to men­tion hor­ri­fy­ingly un­be­liev­able—is the way the Make Amer­ica Great Again mo­rons you see at his ral­lies have made a choice.

At an­other pe­riod in time, they might have lined up be­hind Neil Young. Or Ri­hanna. Or even Katy Perry, who coun­tered Trump’s wild­fire com­ments with “This is an ab­so­lutely heart­less re­sponse.” Or Rod Stew­art, who chimed in with “Cal­i­for­nia needs words of sup­port & en­cour­age­ment, not threats or fin­ger point­ing & ac­cu­sa­tions.”

In­stead, to those who never leave home with­out their red MAGA trucker caps, Don­ald Trump is now the world’s only rock star that mat­ters. Well, maybe Trump, Ted Nu­gent, and Kid Rock.

Te­flon is ev­i­dently one hell of a drug.

ca­reer. When, on “Time”, he sings “I’ve been build­ing my life around you/even though it’s fool­ish to/ For you threw up a wall/that’s 20 feet tall/and there’s no way to get through,” he sounds gen­uinely be­wil­dered by the whole ex­pe­ri­ence, as if he’s try­ing to ne­go­ti­ate un­fa­mil­iar and not par­tic­u­larly wel­com­ing new ter­rain. And then Joseph Shaba­son’s sax­o­phone solo comes in and the whole thing turns into an Al Stew­art song. Ac­tu­ally, that’s not a bad ref­er­ence point. If your re­sponse to hav­ing your heart ripped out of your chest is to reach for Year of the Cat rather than, say, Sea Change, “OUCH” might be just the balm you need. It’s wist­fully sad with­out be­ing overly maudlin, and Kr­govich can craft a great melody bet­ter than any other ro­bot out there.

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