The fact that Donald Trump was considering running for President of the United States used to really irritate me. It seemed like Sarah Palin in 2008 all over again--this ridiculous publicity stunt that carried with it the frightening potential to become a four-year national nightmare.
Trump's attacks on President Obama's citizenship irritate me. (Yes, Donald, he fooled us all. It's the greatest scam in American political history.) They are reminiscent of Republicans' rise to power in the early 1950's because of their success in attacking Communism. Republicans created a political climate in which they attacked people, not their policies; Trump is doing the same. (Richard Nixon was among these Republican Communist Crusaders, and this jump-started his political career.) Unfortunately for Trump, Obama's U.S. citizenship is a non-issue, unlike Communism (there were actual communist spies in the government, though we undoubtedly overstepped our bounds with the persecution of suspected Communists). Trump just looks silly and unprofessional questioning the President's citizenship, and I think it's disrespectful too.
But I've come to be at ease about Trump and his possible candidacy in thinking it over, and talking with other people about it. So let's suppose he actually runs.
If so, he'll probably be running as a third-party candidate because he's not likely to get the Republican nomination. In 2008, Republicans made a big deal out of Obama's "lack of political experience," but Donald Trump literally has no political experience to speak of. I think Republicans would be much more comfortable nominating someone like Mitt Romney who is more towards the political center, and who has solid political experience and a good track record of success.
This means that for Democrats, Trump's candidacy might actually be a boon. No reasonable Democrat would vote for Trump because he's too far right. As a result, he wouldn't be stealing Democrats' votes from Obama, but would be splitting the Republican vote and weakening the Republican nominee.
Trump is running on...nothing. Nothing of substance at least. In interviews I've seen, he has talked about two things: Obama's birth certificate, and his own success as a businessman. To be taken seriously, he needs to discuss in earnest the real issues like the economy, the budget, or foreign affairs.
In the end, I'd be surprised if this was serious. I think it's more of a publicity stunt, and it's all just about getting Donald Trump's name out there to promote himself and his TV show...it's always fun to get attention. It's easy to talk about all the things that are wrong with the country--there certainly are many things--and it's easy to blame the guy at the top, the President. But it's even harder to do something about it.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
April
I don’t like you, April.
I don’t like the way you flirt
So seductively with May,
Tugging at her,
Whispering her name in your winds,
But keeping February close to your heart.
You let loose those days of lucidity and warmth—
The way Spring should be.
But those days are betrayed by those other days,
Days of cold, rain, and blustery winds.
You know the ones I’m talking about.
When we’ve already made it through Winter,
As well as March’s own deceptive effulgence,
The last thing I need is you, April.
I’m ready to embrace Spring, wrap my arms around her.
Your “showers” are fine, I don’t mind,
But what I can’t take, is more grey, more cold.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
A Week With Elvis
A few weeks ago, I read a biography of Elvis Presley for my U.S. history class at school. We raced through the book, reading it in two sittings, and were assigned to write a paper on the book and its author, Bobbie Ann Mason. I started and finished the entire paper this week, starting Sunday afternoon and finishing Friday night, working diligently and persistently every night of the week.
My schedule has been crazy this week: I've been juggling a physics project, a piano performance, rehearsals and performances with the Tmen, play practice (and memorizing lines), and homework. I would get home from play practice for A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to the Forum around 9:30 or 10:00 every night. I would eat something and then start working on the paper and regular homework for my other classes. I would take a nap around 1:00 or 2:00 AM, set an alarm to wake me up at 3:00 or 4:00 AM, work for an hour or two, go back to bed, and then wake up and go to school.
Using these naps and energy drinks to sustain me, and NyQuil to put me to sleep, I wrote the longest paper I have ever written, at 7,000 words. I dropped it off at my teacher's house at Midnight on Friday, the day it was due. (Writing this, it is impossible for me to ignore the parallels of my drug use with Elvis's--he used prescription pills to boost his energy for performances, and then more pills to calm him down and provide a release from the pressure and stress of his hectic life.)
But the paper almost became this entity on its own, this constant in my life with which I had a relationship. Writing the paper, I got to understand Elvis's life so well (or at least, the life that Bobbie Ann Mason, presented) that I completely wrapped my mind around it and felt like I absorbed just about everything Mason had to say.
As Elvis took Las Vegas by storm in the early 1970's, entirely in his element, he had come into his own as a performer and had mastered the stage completely. I also felt that in some ways, with this paper, I mastered the kind of essay our teacher has had us write for the third time: explaining an author's purpose in writing a book. I felt at ease and confidant writing the paper, supplied with all the information I needed, having only to sort through and synthesize it articulately.
I found myself almost crying while writing the last few paragraphs of my essay, thinking angrily about Tom Parker (Elvis's manager who exploited him horribly for his own gain), about Elvis's drug addiction and the neglect of his friends and family, thinking about his pained, restless relationships, and his struggles with whether or not he deserved all the fame and success that came his way. Recalling as Mason did the sweet, youthful, and ebullient Elvis of 1956, I was sad for Elvis because he always had the best intentions despite his flaws or what his critics said--at heart, he was a simple boy from the south, and all he ever wanted to do was sing as well as Arthur Crudup (a blues singer whose music Elvis heard growing up). I was definitely happy to finally be finishing this monster of a paper.
Mason writes about Elvis with a thoughtful, gentle and sympathetic hand, understanding him like an old friend who had simply made a few mistakes during his life. With Elvis Presley, she is able to provide and informative and detailed account of the King's life which is supplemented with interesting anecdotes, and she does this in only 169 pages. It was very insightful and told me much more than I ever knew about Elvis, who was such a bright and dominating figure in America's cultural landscape for only two short decades.
My schedule has been crazy this week: I've been juggling a physics project, a piano performance, rehearsals and performances with the Tmen, play practice (and memorizing lines), and homework. I would get home from play practice for A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to the Forum around 9:30 or 10:00 every night. I would eat something and then start working on the paper and regular homework for my other classes. I would take a nap around 1:00 or 2:00 AM, set an alarm to wake me up at 3:00 or 4:00 AM, work for an hour or two, go back to bed, and then wake up and go to school.
Using these naps and energy drinks to sustain me, and NyQuil to put me to sleep, I wrote the longest paper I have ever written, at 7,000 words. I dropped it off at my teacher's house at Midnight on Friday, the day it was due. (Writing this, it is impossible for me to ignore the parallels of my drug use with Elvis's--he used prescription pills to boost his energy for performances, and then more pills to calm him down and provide a release from the pressure and stress of his hectic life.)But the paper almost became this entity on its own, this constant in my life with which I had a relationship. Writing the paper, I got to understand Elvis's life so well (or at least, the life that Bobbie Ann Mason, presented) that I completely wrapped my mind around it and felt like I absorbed just about everything Mason had to say.
As Elvis took Las Vegas by storm in the early 1970's, entirely in his element, he had come into his own as a performer and had mastered the stage completely. I also felt that in some ways, with this paper, I mastered the kind of essay our teacher has had us write for the third time: explaining an author's purpose in writing a book. I felt at ease and confidant writing the paper, supplied with all the information I needed, having only to sort through and synthesize it articulately.
I found myself almost crying while writing the last few paragraphs of my essay, thinking angrily about Tom Parker (Elvis's manager who exploited him horribly for his own gain), about Elvis's drug addiction and the neglect of his friends and family, thinking about his pained, restless relationships, and his struggles with whether or not he deserved all the fame and success that came his way. Recalling as Mason did the sweet, youthful, and ebullient Elvis of 1956, I was sad for Elvis because he always had the best intentions despite his flaws or what his critics said--at heart, he was a simple boy from the south, and all he ever wanted to do was sing as well as Arthur Crudup (a blues singer whose music Elvis heard growing up). I was definitely happy to finally be finishing this monster of a paper.
Mason writes about Elvis with a thoughtful, gentle and sympathetic hand, understanding him like an old friend who had simply made a few mistakes during his life. With Elvis Presley, she is able to provide and informative and detailed account of the King's life which is supplemented with interesting anecdotes, and she does this in only 169 pages. It was very insightful and told me much more than I ever knew about Elvis, who was such a bright and dominating figure in America's cultural landscape for only two short decades.
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