Donald J. Trump, president of the United States of America, is: a) an (expletive); b) a (different expletive); c) yet (another expletive); d) all of the above.
The man is beneath contempt. He is so low, he is immune to the disinfectant of truth. He cannot be insulted. Everything he says is false or incorrect, yet a majority of white people embrace him, warts, stench and all.
But back to him in a sec. First, allow me to relay the tale of when once, in my illustrious radio career, I had a job hosting a national call-in show on an obscure network, broadcasting out of a building at the intersection of The Alameda and Hillen Road in Baltimore. It’s about a mile from the Morgan State University campus.
Mine was a “day part” becoming known as “Saturday Night Fringe,” 11 p.m. until 3 a.m. Eastern time. Arsenio Hall’s popular TV show aired during that time slot. My national audience could probably be counted in the hundreds, if that. But hey, I was working in my field!
Those were some trying times for me. Around the time of the Preakness Stakes, I lost the use of my car and had to embark on a pilgrimage every week, beginning with a 5 p.m. bus to the Greyhound station, then on 11th and New York Avenue.
I would ride to the bus station on Eutaw Street in Baltimore by around 7 p.m., walk around the corner to the Baltimore Arena, where I would catch a local bus at around 8 p.m. which drove all through central Baltimore, right to my destination by 10 p.m. The only problem with that was that the last bus on the route was at midnight, and it did not resume until 7 a.m. Sunday morning. So I had to spend the night in the studio after my slot. That was fine until one morning after my gig, I came out to find an apparently unconscious, nude woman lying on the sofa in the lobby. I spent that night outside the building. Fortunately, it was springtime in B’more.
On my Sunday morning rides back to the Greyhound station, I got to see and appreciate so many neighborhoods in the city — Druid Hill, the cemetery, North Avenue, Charles Street. I learned that Baltimore has a wonderful shopping experience called the Lexington Market, a live market-vendor experience. It so reminded me of the Grand Central Market in downtown Los Angeles when I was a child, and the markets in European pictorials. Ahh, Baltimore.
So it should come as no surprise, with my aforementioned affection for Charm City and equal contempt for 45, which side I’m taking in the Trump-Baltimore battle.
So this Dude, whose official residence (the White House) is a rat-infested zone, whose fancy New York restaurants has been cited for numerous health code violations (who would want to eat there?), insults Baltimore and Rep. Elijah Cummings — the chair of the House Oversight Committee, which has been giving Dude’s incompetent officials the absolute blues in Congressional hearings — and calls Cummings’ district a “rat-infested” place, wondering “who would want to live there?”
As it turns out, Dude’s son-in-law, a real estate magnate just like himself, owns numerous rental properties in Baltimore. Those places are the targets of numerous health code violations as well. Dude is such a hypocrite. I hope you see why I say he’s despicable, and utterly beneath contempt. You cannot shame him with truth.
Politically, the only risk 45 runs by his hateful attacks against the Black leadership class is that it might motivate a massive turnout of Black voters. That is the only way he can be defeated, is by a massive turnout — even in the face of massive GOP voter suppression efforts — a massive turnout of Black voters.
Believe it or not, in all the presidential elections for nearly the past 40 years, a majority of white people have voted for the Republican candidate — Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, Bob Dole, George W. Bush, John McCain, Mitt Romney and Trump. White people vote GOP, and in 2020, most whites will vote for Trump — the deplorable expletive — again.