The end of the affair
The autumn leaves drift by my window, and the brief spasm of love has ended. Manny et Donnie, fini.
When they met, Trump was impressed by Mme. Macron and how fit she looks. Suspiciously impressed. Emmanuel came and brought him an oak sapling, which was planted on the White House lawn and then unplanted, but it's the gesture that counts. Trump was so excited by the July 14 military parade that he started planning one of his own for Washington, and he would have had it, too, but that big meany Jim Mattis and the Democrat mayor wouldn't let him. But Macron, great guy, not like that dumpy German woman or the English haters with their stupid balloon. Not a Putin or an Orban, you know, but still a good guy. With a hot wife.
So Trump was really excited about his trip to Paris and a chance to forget the elections and Mueller and the surprising response to his new attorney general and all the rest. He loves Paris, but not in the winter, when it drizzles. They wanted him to go out in the rain and visit some American military cemetery, where they make you take your hat off, so fuck that. And then people started making fun of him. Everybody knows you can't fly a military helicopter in light rain, okay? And driving would cause a traffic mess even on a Saturday. So just shut up.
Sunday, the actual centenary, it was still raining, and the leaders were going to walk all the way up the Champs-Elysees to the Arc de Triomph like a bunch of idiots, so now it was time to drive. At least when he arrived the great Vladimir Putin was there and it was like a ray of sunshine. So he had to read some thing that somebody, obviously not Stephen Miller, had written, while standing out in the rain. How come those old guys get to sit under a cover? World War II veterans? They must be really old. "You look like you're in really good shape, all of you. I hope I look like that some day." Big laugh. Still got it.
And then Macron gets up, fucking Macron, and he really pisses Trump off: "Patriotism is the exact opposite of nationalism. Nationalism is a betrayal of patriotism." Blah blah moral values, blah blah climate change, poverty, inequality, oh, Manny, what happened to you? You sound like Pocahontas or that Beto guy. "Old demons are resurfacing." You talkin' to me?
Today, as France observed the third anniversary of the Bataclan terrorist attack, Macron got the twitter-beating he was asking for. Did you know Parisians were learning German during the war, while waiting for the United States to liberate them? Macron has very low approval ratings! French wine is unfairly competing with American wine, must have tariffs! France wants to form a European army to fight the United States! "MAKE FRANCE GREAT AGAIN!" He actually typed that.
In other words, hit the road, Jacques. Forget Paris.
When they met, Trump was impressed by Mme. Macron and how fit she looks. Suspiciously impressed. Emmanuel came and brought him an oak sapling, which was planted on the White House lawn and then unplanted, but it's the gesture that counts. Trump was so excited by the July 14 military parade that he started planning one of his own for Washington, and he would have had it, too, but that big meany Jim Mattis and the Democrat mayor wouldn't let him. But Macron, great guy, not like that dumpy German woman or the English haters with their stupid balloon. Not a Putin or an Orban, you know, but still a good guy. With a hot wife.
So Trump was really excited about his trip to Paris and a chance to forget the elections and Mueller and the surprising response to his new attorney general and all the rest. He loves Paris, but not in the winter, when it drizzles. They wanted him to go out in the rain and visit some American military cemetery, where they make you take your hat off, so fuck that. And then people started making fun of him. Everybody knows you can't fly a military helicopter in light rain, okay? And driving would cause a traffic mess even on a Saturday. So just shut up.
Sunday, the actual centenary, it was still raining, and the leaders were going to walk all the way up the Champs-Elysees to the Arc de Triomph like a bunch of idiots, so now it was time to drive. At least when he arrived the great Vladimir Putin was there and it was like a ray of sunshine. So he had to read some thing that somebody, obviously not Stephen Miller, had written, while standing out in the rain. How come those old guys get to sit under a cover? World War II veterans? They must be really old. "You look like you're in really good shape, all of you. I hope I look like that some day." Big laugh. Still got it.
And then Macron gets up, fucking Macron, and he really pisses Trump off: "Patriotism is the exact opposite of nationalism. Nationalism is a betrayal of patriotism." Blah blah moral values, blah blah climate change, poverty, inequality, oh, Manny, what happened to you? You sound like Pocahontas or that Beto guy. "Old demons are resurfacing." You talkin' to me?
Today, as France observed the third anniversary of the Bataclan terrorist attack, Macron got the twitter-beating he was asking for. Did you know Parisians were learning German during the war, while waiting for the United States to liberate them? Macron has very low approval ratings! French wine is unfairly competing with American wine, must have tariffs! France wants to form a European army to fight the United States! "MAKE FRANCE GREAT AGAIN!" He actually typed that.
In other words, hit the road, Jacques. Forget Paris.
posted by Buttermilk Sky at 6:05 PM
1 Comments:
"...and driving would cause a traffic mess even on a Saturday."
I do hope he remembers that the next time he decides he wants to stay at Trump Tower in New York. Unfortunately, this particular detail hasn't bothered him until now.
Yours crankily,
The New York Crank
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