The golfer in chief tossed Puerto Rico a self-congratulatory platitude Friday, which resulted in the mayor of San Juan giving Trump a master class in playing the media. Donald Trump did the only thing he could do: post mean tweets about it. Once he realized that wasn't working, as even some of his best and brightest grifting sycophants turned against him because of it, he went right back to acting like he was the greatest defender of American freedom and lover of the military. By that I mean he started working the national anthem angle.
Sunday night, the largest mass shooting in modern history happened in Las Vegas. When America awoke to the news, Trump did the absolute least he could do by tweeting out his "warmest condolences." I've heard of mixed metaphors, but mixed platitudes are a new one. I eagerly await his "deepest regards." When you couple this with his dedicating a golf trophy to the victims of the hurricane in Puerto Rico -- yes, a golf trophy -- any expectations that the man might be able to connect with another human being that doesn't involve a sexual assault (allegedly!) are over for the few that had any expectations left.
After the tragedy, Trump came out and offered a weak and obligatory speech that the punditocracy called "presidential." Bullshit. I watched that speech. I've seen more enthusiastic recitations of a loathed book by a fifth-grader. Trump only comes alive when he's bragging and insulting his enemies, praising the people who kiss his ass, or has taken his erection pills (one can imagine -- or not). Our president is only inspiring to the most mean-spirited, vindictive, or simple-minded of us. Oh, and the GOP members of Congress who think that tossing a few coins to the parents of the child their carriage just ran over is a proper social support system. The Trump presidency is so devoid of actual leadership, you could put a scarecrow in a chair behind the Oval Office desk and it would at least be able to pass a budget resolution.
The man genuinely makes one pine for the days of George W. Bush. Yeah, he was a bad president, and for many people the personification of evil, but at least he was there. Is it any wonder that we have seen greater leadership from him and the other former presidents on bringing relief to the people suffering from the recent disasters in the Gulf of Mexico? I mean, people are actually loving Hillary again! Her tweets and public statements about the recent disasters as well as the shooting in Las Vegas are inspiring calls to action and genuine statements of compassion. They're so amazing it actually might get your jackass friend who thought she was worse than Trump and ended up voting for Jill Stein to like her. Fuck your friend, by the way.
But this is where we are at. Our commander in chief is as comforting as the main character in It. Our government is led by a man as absent as a father who said he was going out for cigarettes 10 years ago -- and when he does show up, he's steering the ship like Hunter S. Thompson in a Chevy Impala convertible through the California desert with a head full of acid while his attorney waves a loaded .357 Magnum. We're just the stringy-haired hitchhiker in the backseat realizing that we're in a car with madmen at the wheel who will probably cut our head off and bury us in the desert somewhere.
The only thing we can do at this point is pray that special prosecutor Robert Mueller -- investigating Trump for possibly colluding with Russia -- allows us to trade him for an evangelical loon or some other slightly less nightmarish scenario (President Paul Ryan, gag) that doesn't involve Trump nuking the Korean peninsula. We'll have to find comfort in Hillary providing leadership from her social media account or possibly the world not imploding before Bernie Sanders or Kamala Harris can take over. Be it Beyonce, Will & Grace, the new Star Trek, or just heavy substance use, we'll have to find a way to comfort ourselves until then. Trump is only going to be able to provide the comfort a stepdad who insists on handshakes instead of hugs can give, and the leadership one can only expect from a child king we wish we could bitch-slap like only Peter Dinklage could.
AMANDA KERRI is a writer and comedian based in Oklahoma City. Follow her on Twitter @Amanda_Kerri.