Trump’s Counterfactual Universe is about to get a Tragic Reality Check
His desperate need for adulation will lead his followers into an abyss.
Donald Trump is a junkie. He has an insatiable need for attention, adulation, even worship. His rallies, made up of followers who have given over their will and reason in blind submission, supply him with that — for the fleeting moment at least. Then, as with every junkie, the fix quickly wears off, and he has to seek the next high. For hard core junkies, like Trump, there is no depravity they will not stoop to, no one they will not betray, in order to get their fix.
How did Trump get this way? It seems like his father was not exactly a warm and fuzzy type. Maybe Donald would have turned out different if he had a little love during childhood. I don’t know. But I do see in Trump a vast emptiness, a void that he has spent most of his life trying to fill — with money, power, sex, and most importantly, it seems, the abject adulation of others. But Trump’s emptiness is infinite. The more he tries to fill it, the more the cravings come back. His blackest hours come during every predawn when he is alone in his gilded bedroom without the company of sycophants. There, the hollow man, in his solitary insomnia, hammers away at his twitter device — seeking affirmation and love somewhere out in the darkness.
Thanks to a venomous talent for manipulation, this sinister wreck of a human being is unequivocally trusted by millions. But now his craven need will lure his followers into a monstrous betrayal. So far Trump and his enablers have mostly gotten away with their numerous falsehoods. But soon their pretence that the Coronavirus disease is almost over in the US, is going to be shown to be a terrible lie.
Many experts have warned that Trump’s rallies will be the perfect breeding grounds to accelerate transmission of the disease. Does he care? Perhaps deep down there is some vestige of a heart. But that is doubtful in light of all the people he has screwed in the past: the small contractors, the investors, the students in his phoney Trump University. Immolating others on the pyre of his ambitions has never bothered him before. More likely there is a wee voice trying to tell him that spreading pestilence with his rallies will not enable his re-election. He cares a lot about re-election, but right now the warning voice is drowned out by the imagined roar of the crowds, and his desperate hunger for the fix that he is craving so badly.