Turning the Tables on Trump

The four-foot long table in the corridor outside the small HYDRO conference meeting room in the Westgate Las Vegas Resort & Casino is lost, sandwiched between two mammoth, twelve-foot-long tables on either side. The hydrology attendees will be trying to solve ground water problems through meaningful discussions, the people at the other tables may be creating above water problems with somewhat mean solutions.

Those attending the HYDRO meeting are ground water specialists, casually dressed, and their friendly banter comes across with slightly twangy intonations, native to rural areas such as Ada, Oklahoma, Bend, Oregon and elsewhere.

You will find similar accents emanating from plain folk behind the tables on either side, that are stacked high with t-shirts, hoodies, hats and buttons for “The Donald.” These vendors are hustling their wares to the flowing crowd that’s hurriedly heading around the corner. Bright and shiny Donald buttons are selling for five dollars each, or three for ten dollars.

The hustlers are trying to entice the passersby to buy, but the flowing crowd is there for one main purpose. They are heading to a large and loud, common-bond rally for the man they hope will become the forty-fifth President of the Un-United States.

Outside the entrance to the rally, a man in his seventies is selling small, red-white-and blue Trump buttons. He explains that he’d like a dollar for each so he will have enough money to make more of them, but anyone can have one free. When he smiles, there are only three teeth in his mouth, protruding from the upper jaw. A dollar for Donald seems reasonable, to help this chewing challenged man.

Several of the candidate’s supporters, wearing white t-shirts imprinted with “Trump-for-President,” stand outside two double doors that lead into a huge, triple-sized, very deep room. They are the initial welcoming committee, and you have to either show them your ticket, or fill out a form to hand to the secondary level of volunteers standing by a second set of doors some fifty-feet away.  

THE AMERICAN WAY

The form asks for information the campaign can use to contact you, including both your email and postal mailing addresses. It also solicits data on whether you are a registered voter, if you’d like to volunteer, and do you want to commit to caucus for Mr. Trump. There are boxes to check off on the form regarding the eight listed issues that “are most important to you.” The choices include the 2^nd Amendment, National Security, Religious Liberty, Immigration, Pro-Life, Veterans Issues, Economy/Jobs/Trade, and Tax Reform.

Once inside the doors, you walk into a huge room that’s 100-feet-wide by 100-feet-deep, and there are more entrepreneurial vendors selling non-traditional Trump buttons, including one that read, “Mammas, don’t let your daughters grow up and date Democrats.” You may have been tempted to look around to see if Willie and Waylon are nearby, for they would easily fit in.

TSA, IN THE WAY

There’s a line of people in the far right-hand corner, waiting to be checked in. After you have turned in your Trump card to other volunteers, you come to a checkpoint. Blue-shirted, uniformed, official Transportation Security Administration men and women, looking like those at any major airport, are in charge. After you have been lead through an electronic body scanner, you are met by a black-clad, dour-looking man in his late thirties, wearing a flak vest with SECRET SERVICE printed across the chest, holding an electric wand in his hand.

Once you have successfully passed through the security gauntlet, you are now in the sanctum sanctorum, where it’s standing room only. It’s not because of the immense estimated crowd of two thousand, but because there are only six chairs available against the near wall, and they are occupied.

BULL IN THE PEN

The majority of the people have crowded against the far right-hand corner of the large room, where the stage is set for a Donald J. Trump performance. Some people are milling around outside the media bull pen, a fenced in area in the center, where perhaps thirty members of the print media sit, rapidly typing away on their laptops before anything of consequence happens, in the hope that something does happen.

There is a giant television screen in front of them, focusing on the empty stage where Trump will be standing. Higher up on a ten-foot platform, a dozen broadcast cameras and reporters, furiously focus on what will be coming. Their expectations would be answered, and they unknowingly would become the headliners soon enough.

Many other Trump supporters are standing on the far, left side of the bullpen, anxiously awaiting their Moses, who they hope that he will lead them to the Promised Land. People mainly like themselves would best occupy that utopian land; white, grey-haired, overlooked and disenfranchised, less affluent individuals who believe that they have lost what was once their land.

HELLO DOLLY, NOT MOLLY 

Among those standing in the back of the media section, were one middle-aged black woman dressed in red, two young Asian Americans, a chubby Dolly Parton looking woman with bleached blonde hair, wearing a billowing green dress and tall cowboy boots.

All of those in the room, whether they were a friendly follower or a media foe, anxiously awaited the 7:30pm arrival of The Donald. His supporters held a variety of signs, including “Donald for President” and “Make America Great Again.” Many wear a variety of Donald buttons, and easily partnered up with strangers, in conversations about their man. Many suspiciously eyed those who seemed out of place among the good folk, and you tried to blend in for fear of what could happen if you were deemed an outsider.

The hum of the many voices blended together, was suddenly silenced as a pep rally cheerleader took the stage. Each time he made a pronouncement, the raucous crowd roared in approval, or disapproval. “We could have settled for a Marco, Ted or Jeb,” “No! No! No!” came the unified reply. “Only one man can make America great again,” and “Donald! Donald! Donald!” was the collective answer. “Only one man can beat the desperate establishment,” and once again, “Donald” was the reverberating response.

RAH! RAH! RAW!

A seasoned Nevada Trump campaign leader replaced the cheerleader, and implored the crowd to join together for the Pledge of Allegiance. Then he began reading a litany of reasons why Donald J. Trump needs to be elected our next President, and with each reason, the crowd roared.

He began by confessing, “I love Donald Trump, and that “He’ll upset the applecart,” and take care of the “Scoundrels, thieves and frauds in our government.” Then he paused before he shouted, “Hope you’re listening Barak Obama and Hillary Clinton,” because “Trump will prosecute.” The expected loud response resonated across the room   

DONALD WON'T DUCK IT

Then he went on proclaiming what else Donald J. Trump will do. “He’ll build a wall. He will secure the border. He will kill the Iran deal,” and the audience response once again was a roar of approval. Now the speaker was poised for a maximum verbal incitement, as he went on. “And Donald will do all of that on his first day in office,” and the crowd yelled. He paused, and told the throng, “Imagine what he will do on the second day,” and the screams were deafening.

He continued stirring up the faithful masses with short and quick, standard GOP hype sayings, and after each filled the room, the crowd became even more ready for Donald.  “God, Country, Capitalism,” “American Exceptionalism,” “Choice Not Abortion,” and closed with “God Bless America.” The faithful were stimulated and ready.

He concluded with “The next person you will see is the next President of the United States,” and Donald J. Trump appeared on the stage and on the television screen, and now was the time they had all had patiently waited for — including The Donald.

Trump began with abbreviated, superlative descriptions, sentence after sentence, to further connect with his followers. “This is really beautiful. Fantastic. People of this country are incredible. Country has to get away from political correctness. The audience agreed, and then he set after their common enemy — the media.

KILL THE MESSENGER

He pointed to the television crews on their elevated stand, and bragged that they know that he is the story and that’s why they follow him everywhere, and when he said, “Look at the press,” his words were greeted with loud booing.

Now that he had the people firmly with him, he continued to deride the press by reaffirming that “The press is really dishonest,” before modifying that belief and saying, “The media is mostly dishonest, and the Des Moines Register is terrible.”

At the moment, there was a noisy confrontation within the crowd, and many of the media members in the pen, hurriedly chased after what could be another disruption story. Trump said, “Bye. Bye. Anytime when there’s a problem.”

At that time, our main problem was having to stand with neither any relief for our tired, aching feet, nor for the guaranteed bombast that would go on endlessly that night, and last until the primaries are over.

I have the memory of the Trump rally in my mind, along with six Trump buttons to mail to people I know who support other candidates, which is most of the people that I know.

In 1933, Paul Joseph Goebbels became the Reich Minister of Propaganda for the Nazi Party and its leader. There is probably no correlation between his efforts and those of campaign managers today.

BERNIE & DONALD

I will give credit to the Trumpsters for stimulating such deep devotion for their candidate, much the same as Bernie Sanders has done with his followers. I have sent a small check or two to Bernie, and occasionally wear my Bernie button. I won’t be wearing a Donald button, but realize that by buying his buttons as gifts, I have inadvertently contributed to his campaign. I have assuaged that effort, with my doubts that Donald will not be on the November 8, 2016 Presidential ballot.