Donald Trump Gonna SUE Idiot Campaign Manager For Not Making Him A Candidate Who Isn’t Donald Trump
CNN reported that last Friday Donald Trump went full Jake LaMotta on Brad Parscale, blaming him for the flaming bag of poop that represents the president's reelection prospects. Sure, Parscale is Trump's campaign manager, but not even the best ones — and Parscale is far from the best — bother advising their candidates against recommending people drink bleach. You just sort of assume.
Trump can't control these embarrassing leaks to the press because he can't control himself in public meetings. He could've read Parscale the riot act privately over the phone, but instead he went ballistic in front of advisers who are already polishing their resumes.
Shifting the blame away from himself, Trump berated Parscale for a recent spate of damaging poll numbers, even at one point threatening to sue Parscale. It's not clear how serious the President's threat of a lawsuit was.
The president loves BS lawsuits but this is the BS Best. You can't sue your campaign manager for not magically making you a better candidate who doesn't ask Americans to give bleach a chance. It's not like Parscale produced data showing that screwing up the COVID-19 response was a political winner. Maybe this time, Trump really was just being “sarcastic."
According to a Republican “close to the White House," Trump is “lashing out" because he “knows" his press briefings are a disaster. This is another example of Republicans believing Trump possesses more self-awareness than his terminal narcissism would allow. No, he's actually “pissed" because no one loves him. He'd planned to spend the year boasting about low black unemployment or some shit at his hate rallies. COVID-19 wrecked those plans, and his attempts to turn the coronavirus task force briefings into daily hate rallies have failed. His tiny brain and huge ego can't appreciate that during an unprecedented national crisis, people want a real president not an Internet troll.
Trump behaves like a spoiled D-list celebrity (because that's what he is). He's yelling at his manager because his ratings are falling and the geeky doctor is upstaging him on his own daily variety show.
Two days before his screaming fit, Parscale had confronted Trump with internal data that showed he was heading for defeat in November. Parscale, RNC chair Ronna (ROMNEY) McDaniel, and other advisers suggested the best way forward was to scale back on his daily rage sessions or at least not answer questions during them (no, really). Reminding Americans he was president during a devastating public health crisis and economic shutdown wasn't doing wonders for Trump's poll numbers. And they weren't that great even before the world ended.
What's amazing if you do the math is that just two days after this “you're so fucked" meeting, Trump is evangelizing the curative properties of Lysol. No wonder he wants to sue Parscale: He refuses to save Trump from himself. Trump is so delusional he refuses to believe he's responsible for his own downfall. He insisted that Americans loved the briefings because he was “fighting for them," but most viewers couldn't easily make the connection between the president yelling at reporters and the ability to pay their rent.
Parscale's biggest failing, aside from whatever that is roaming free on his face, is that Trump likes campaign managers who don't give him bad polling numbers. According to aides, Trump is distrustful of data when “the numbers are negative." Now that we're several weeks into our collective national grounding, maybe we'll finally understand why it's better to have a president who trusts data even when it hurts their feelings.
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Stephen Robinson is a writer and social kibbitzer based in Portland, Oregon. He's on the board of the Portland Playhouse theater and writes for the immersive theater Cafe Nordo in Seattle. Tickets are on sale now for his latest Nordo collaboration, "Curiouser and Curiouser," an adaptation of "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" and "Through the Looking Glass." It promises to feel like an actual evening with SER (for good or for ill).