Aardvark must confess that he is feeling a little embittered. Sucking up to Putin. Embracing global climate catastrophe. Threatening a trade war. Those who voted for Trump have well and truly selected the person whom they so richly deserve.
The essential Paul Waldman has cautioned us against regarding the Trump base as, in Waldman’s words, “a bunch of Cro-Magnon mouth-breathers.” I quite agree—though I think the comparison may be unfair to the Cro-Magnon, who had a lot of artistic talent.
In any event, Aardvark—an inclusive type of person, who has charity toward all and malice toward none—would like to offer up this song for Trump supporters’ listening pleasure.
Props to Vasari.
And a reaction from Asia:
Hans has been exercised all day about Trump in Hamburg, writing—a propos the concert in which Chancellor Merkel made him listen to Ode to Joy—“ Trump applauds between movements. Will want to congratulate the composer personally.” Hans later added,
Trump’s comment after the concert: “Big waste of money. Choir does not work until the 4th quarter, is paid for the whole evening. Strike first three quarters, they are not so good anyway. And the 4th quarter should be sung in a language that everybody can understand. The Germans, who do they think they are?”
And, so, Hans, this is for you:
Alas, the Hall of Presidents and First Lzdies in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, has shuttered its doors and sold its max presidents. Aardvark is pleased to share this from John Oliver …
… along with some well chosen words from Vasari, who has the inside scoop:
Despite the superficial news accounts of financial problems with the museum, the Gettysburg cultural insiders tell a different story. The presidential figures debated over several evenings whether Donald Trump should be admitted to the group. Support, led by Richard Nixon and Andrew Jackson, began to fade as Ulysses Grant, treasurer, shared preliminary cost estimates for a solid gold wax statue.
Bill Clinton suggested that Melania Trump be invited without her expensive husband. Hillary Clinton, in the First Ladies section of the museum, threatened to pay for an indoor Fourth of July fireworks extravaganza should Melania be accepted as a member.
The debate became more and more dangerously heated, with Jefferson and Adams hurling inflammatory accusations of personal profit at one another, presumably a reference to the stock options each had accumulated in the museum.
A wax cylinder, presumed to be from Henry Clay, broke the deadlock. “United You Fall, Divided You Stand,” read the cylinder on an old machine donated years earlier by Thomas Edison.
Sad, but true. One by one the figures left the museum, boarded tour buses, and made their individual ways to places where benefactors had sworn to keep and protect them. George Washington nailed a quickly-lettered sign over the door as he left the museum. “You can have it.”