Jay Meehan: The Trump tumor | ParkRecord.com

Jay Meehan: The Trump tumor

Core Samples

By Jay Meehan
Park Record columnist

Hey Uncle Trumpy! I caught your shtick on the tube the other night and figure you might just be the right guy to steer me through my current malaise. It was the part where you spoke up about hatred and bigotry having no place in America that turned my crank.

You see, I've come to totally despise white culture as it's being practiced on the "right" to the point where, at times, I actually hate individual white people. It's not healthy, I know. My insides become twisted and I dream of pounding human bone fragments into white-supremacist skulls.

It probably comes from wishful thinking that sense can actually be pounded into these idiots' heads. Whadaya think? And not only that but I also want to round them up and put them in domed detention camps where the lack of recycled air could, over time, have a rehab effect upon the "climate change denial" that has and continues to sweep their ranks.

It's the fact that you are a professed true believer in Christianity that gives me faith that you could turn my evil ways around. Maybe you could even baptize me in some "Texas light sweet" grade crude oil until the "Western National Park" grade becomes the underlying commodity of the New York Mercantile Exchange's oil futures contracts.

I just assume that you have chosen to move past my referring to you in columns as a Nazi scum profiteer and a cancer upon the land. I hope it wasn’t any more offensive than, say, when I mentioned you were tearing our country apart while endearing yourself to those enlisting further corporate welfare and resource extraction.

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I'm sure such a "born again" ceremonial induction into the mindset of the drill-baby-drill bunch will give me enough eureka-moment epiphanies to last until you guys had all drank the kool-aid and hopped rides on the spaceships hiding behind next weeks solar eclipse. It's a thought, anyway.

By the way, when word got out that I would be corresponding with you, question suggestions from all over the world began pouring in. One of the more interesting ones came from "Mark" in Alexandria, Egypt. He would love to meet you personally and ask you himself but there seems to be a hiccup or two with his visa application.

Anyway, here's what's on his mind. "For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" That Mark, he's a deep thinker. I can kind of sense his reasoning for wanting to pose such a question to one of the finest theological minds of our age.

Actually, I was hoping maybe he'd "work the corners" with a bit more nuance rather than put it waist-high and right down the middle of the plate. But, you'll have that. I tried to warn him that, notwithstanding epic portions of anti-Semitism, you and your Old Testament Neanderthals would sweep aside such Jesus-ish gibberish.

He was after all the dude who tossed the money-changers out of the Temple. Now, what's up with that? And all that "feeding the poor" crap? What was it about entitlements that this hippie can't wrap his hairy head around?

By the way, congratulations on recent poll numbers which show that it wouldn't bother your "base" one iota if it is found through the current investigations encircling the White House that you and yours engaged in quantum skullduggery to get elected. It seems to be beside the point, as it were.

As I ramble on here, I just assume that you have chosen to move past my referring to you in columns as a Nazi scum profiteer and a cancer upon the land. I hope it wasn't any more offensive than, say, when I mentioned you were tearing our country apart while endearing yourself to those enlisting further corporate welfare and resource extraction.

How's Vlad, by the way, Uncle Donny? Don't recall if I mentioned that I caught your new campaign ad, mine Führer. What top-shelf art. I'd never seen "See Dick and Jane Run" done in a more Film Noir fashion. Did James Wong Howe light that for you? The neon shadows through the louvered shutters took me back to "Murder, My Sweet," not to mention that the elongated dolly shot seemed very much like a homage to "Out of the Past."

Well, it's probably about time to submerge my crawling skin into a mineral bath. If I don't hurry, he'll pardon Sheriff Joe before I get this shipped out.

Jay Meehan is a culture junkie and has been an observer, participant, and chronicler of the Park City and Wasatch County social and political scenes for more than 40 years.