More on Trump’s doolally meeting:
After twelve days of doing, according to his official schedule, absolutely nothing, Donald Trump assembled a photo-op-slash-cabinet-meeting today. Sort of. It was, as usual, heavily steeped in weird. There was a two-month-old meme poster of Trump’s face displayed prominently in the center of the table, for some reason.
Well let’s talk about that. Why was it there? To double the thrill? To double the sense of awe and mystery? To intimidate? Does he think he’s successful at any of those things? Maybe he thinks a big image of him is magic in some way? Maybe he thinks he looks good in it?
He blasted deceased Sen. John McCain by name for voting against an Obamacare repeal, and was full of spite for a host of other Republicans. “Jeff Flake is selling real estate, whatever he’s doing.”
On departed Secretary of Defense Jim Mattis: “What has he done for me? How has he done in Afghanistan? Not too good.”
Wait. He thinks his cabinet is supposed to do things for him? He doesn’t realize it’s supposed to be for a somewhat larger number of people?
On his own military prowess: “I think I would have been a good general, but who knows?”
On Syria: “Look, we don’t want Syria … we’re talking about sand and death. That’s what we’re talking about. We’re not talking about vast wealth. We’re talking about sand and death.”
On drones, yes, drones: “I know more about drones than anybody.”
On, um, wheels: “The wheel, the wall, some things never get old.”
He’s still on that?
H/t Skeletor
Comments
5 responses to “He thinks he would have been a good general”
He’s discovered alliteration. Expect more.
You mean wheel and wall? Hmm. I’m not sure those are legit alliteration. (*says “wheel” a few times*) Well maybe. I guess we do sort of say weel for wheel.
I read more than I talk, so I lose track…
It works well for those of us who pronounce “witch” and “which” identically.
And “when” and “wen.” (London was called The Great Wen in the 18th century or thereabouts.)
And what a fitting nickname it was. The Victorians (in this case the campaigner against the devastation of rural life in England caused by migration to urban centres, William Cobbett) had real talent the lost art of well-phrased, devastatingly accurate insults.