But What Is He
Building in There?
Psychopaths believe in a world of order, hierarchy, chains of command. They sit atop; everybody else is food. They’re not above a compliment if it comes from those who share a similar obsession for rituals and lethal games. But despise those they consider prey.
Donald Trump is not a psychopath. He’s a dangerous buffoon, but short of his bounty, won’t last a minute among beasts. Minions at his disposal make him high, but as a predator, he’s like a hyena: rather than mastering the killing hunt, he’d hide and steal the lion’s catch.
Unsavory creatures crave attention but shun the spotlight. While the orange clown works the crowd, an army of crafty shadows pick pockets. Let a raging fool bark, and his unhinged white noise will provide cover to hungry wolves, sinking fangs on flesh and bones of unaware but admiring hordes.
Germans once picked a psychopathic mass murderer to lead them out of chaos; Nero slaughtered his way to Roman power. But neither soaked their hands in blood alone. Amoral commanders love medals and insignias, but worse monsters dwell in the gallows, wearing no uniform or masks.
Naked rulers are always troubling, but watch out for those who lurk in the background. Many a once-proud nation fell under the spell of mad kings and deranged dictators. But it was their enablers who carried out the wreckage of millions of lives left on their wake.
Spoiled child or a wretched demon, worse than Trump is the nutty platoon behind him, holding the launching buttons of U.S. nukes. Statistically, every outfit has a psychopath or two in its midst. But unlike serials about serial killers, no one knows how it all ends (more)
* Nasty People
* Out to Get You
* Faulty Towers
* Worse Than Thou
until it’s too late. While some fancy the glare, most would rather blend in. Some may feign a credo but mostly remain opaque and just watch.
Now, aren’t you nostalgic about those menacing clowns who popped up all over a few years ago? Maybe they were omens. Or comets, which the ancient regarded as harbingers of doom, and have sowed destruction of species and civilizations. Maybe there’s a purpose behind all that. Perhaps we ought to put a positive spin on everything. You know, be nice and all that.
Then again, maybe not. A skulk of foxes just took over the hen house. And while most have a clear, even if no good, intent, about others we’re not so sure. You know they’re there, out of sign but next to the pulsating heart of the crushing machine. Keep an eye out and let us know if they send in the clowns.
(*) Originally published on Feb. 1, 2017.