If you are surprised that America has elected a president who reminds you of that high school jock who spent all day preening at his locker mirror and never actually going to class, well, you’re not alone.
Like many who didn’t vote for Trump, I was resigned to just breathe deeply (not so easy with those gutted EPA regs but even so), and ignore the gold-plated elephant in the room. But that was before all this Twitter business. Is it too much to expect that the incoming leader of the free world have the self-control to stop this nanny-nanny-boo-boo mean girl tweeting?
Donald J. Trump is thiiiiiis close to tweeting “OMG Russia! ILYSM fam!” Heaven help us once he finds the bomb emoji.
Maybe if someone would tell Trump that Twitter is actually yesterday’s obsession and not what the cool kids do, he would finally, mercifully stop. Even the bewhiskered and recipe-riddled Facebook has better numbers.
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He should know that millions more people watch those oddly compelling fast-forward recipe hacks for cheese-wrapped-cheese nestled inside dough that is then wrapped in cheese, baked and served with cheese sauce than read his tweets. Although, now that I think about it, both are equally painful.
I think President Elect The Donald prefers Twitter because it’s short and snappy. Facebook posts can be more confessional, thoughtful, informative and containing a higher percentage of menopause memes. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Perhaps he should investigate Instagram. You don’t have to use words at all but can add clever little drawings to pictures. You could let him sit in the corner while the grownups are talking and he could draw those red hearts and arrows on pictures of Nicki Haley for instance.
I know that many of you will now get all screechy and stabby and demand that I show more respect to the incoming president. Sorry, not sorry. Hey, it’s not my fault. He’s the one who has assembled a cabinet that is more curio than capable. To take the metaphor in a different direction, he has assembled a hodge podge of expired tonics and salves. Donald J. Trump is like the medicine man who wandered the old west peddling an elixir that claimed to heal but, well, basically just got you knee walking drunk and clobbered you with a hangover the next day.
Sure, we had some laughs during the knee-walking part but now it’s the cold, sober light of day and even Kellyann Conway’s measured, robotic voice can’t make it all better.
I thought Trump’s twitter tirades were funny before he was elected; now they are just weird and inappropriate, like desserts made with quinoa.
Claiming that he actually won the popular vote (not true by anyone’s definition) because millions of votes were cast illegally is just the latest stop on the Crazytown freeway that is Trump’s Twitter. You’d think the brains of The Apprentice would be a more graceful, and grateful, winner. Omarosa, lean in here.
Celia Rivenbark is the New York Times best-selling author of “Rude B****** Make Me Tired.” Visit www.celiarivenbark.com.