What a ride. What a bizarre, seemingly endless ride.
And no, I’m not referring to a Ryan Lochte IQ test, the death-spiral of Gawker.com, or the formal end to privately-sanctioned mass incarceration, but rather the 2016 Presidential Election.
With the arrival of #NakedTrump, the mysterious nude statues in U.S. cities, this election enters another dimension. La la land. The point of no return.
Evidently, artists guerilla-marketed the saggy, veiny, hideous statues into existence to the surprise of passersby, orange pubic hair and all.
Yet, behind the selfies taken next to Trump’s unfortunate endowment, lies the strange realization that we broke new ground, America. This type of performance marks the arrival of a country not seen before. One teetering on the brink of dystopia—a dark comedy too sardonic to be true.
But it is true. We live in a post-Presidential-dick-size debate world. Just to reiterate, grown men running for President of the United States had an open debate on national television about the size of their genitalia—”well, mine’s all that it could be and should be, dammit.”
Can you imagine Mitt Romney, king of “aw shucks” good-old-boy constipation, inciting riot-level anger at a rally? Or does he still just live in your mind as a cross between your creepy uncle and a Teddy Ruxpin?
Naked statues of Mitt would feel so appalling and unneeded.
How about John McCain? The only thing he incited was a psych eval for Sarah Palin. Not even George “Bomb The Wrong Country” Bush can compete.
Nor can Dole, Bush Sr., Jesus 2.0 Reagan, Ford, Nixon, Goldwater, Eisenhower et al.
Thus, we arrive at a place where the Republican Presidential nominee is so divisive, people must publically humiliate him to combat his spellbinding vitriol. #NakedTrump is like a public piñata, only there’s no candy inside and it has a micropenis. But the sentiment is still the same—take turns bashing something until it unravels.
As spectators gathered around nude Trump in NYC, San Francisco, Seattle, L.A., and Cleaveland, they looked a bully in the face and realized he wasn’t wearing clothes.
Trump isn’t so menacing, after all. We discovered the antidote to his campaign of hate.
With rhetoric and fear, he can divide a nation and dominate headlines. But beneath it all, he’s just a sad, ugly little man—naked and alone.