Today’s epic Kabuki dance for the ages juxtaposes the “special relationship” of the TRUMP-Kim bromance alongside Michael Cohen’s day of redemption on Capital Hill. Just when you thought the dramatic action could not get any hotter, the Greatest of all Shows is sizzling with action in one continuous ’round the clock transglobal performance that seems to turn in rotation with the Earth itself.
We could all just sit back and enjoy the sheer madness of the Show if only it weren’t bringing us ever so closely to the apocalyptic grand finale. This, my friends, is total theater for the post reality: far, far, far beyond the suspension of disbelief. When the public is so numbed down by the always-on 24/7 torrent of this seductive flow of spectacle and disinformation, in the post real haze of twisted surreality, we can no longer see any separation between that which is true and that which is not.
We find ourselves situated, if not drowning, in the maddening rush of the flow of deception. TRUMP in all of his XTreme TRUMPological glory has opened a tap that gushes with a force and velocity that has no precedent. The mind reels as we succumb to the myriad narrative threads of scandal and intrigue – who knew what, when, where, how, and why. This force is exacerbated by the pounding media spin of endless analysis, to the point where all the characters and their interactions, deception, lies, attacks, and pleas for mercy become fused and coagulated into a murky soup of made-for-tv drama.
With Michael Cohen’s confessional testimony in front of the House Oversight Committee, perhaps, at last, we are fast approaching the denouement of this wicked drama that is exploding inside of the political system. Because, quite frankly, where in Hell do we go from here?
If nothing else, we can clearly see the sheer epic majesty of TRUMPian deception reverberating through the Halls of Congress. We can see just how precisely TRUMP has orchestrated the conflict: the illicit payoffs, high stakes meetings with Russians, money laundering, racist attacks, demonic campaign slogans (lock her up), angry mobs, and all the rest, inciting a frenzy of emotion, conflict, and tribal fury that charges forward like a brutal storm of the human comedy.
In the eye of this swirling TRUMP tornado, we find ourselves sinking into a vortex that seems to have no bottom, nor top, nor left, nor right. Just when the Cohen hearing fades into the sunset, in the dawn, we see emerging the rotund figures of TRUMP and Kim looming on the Eastern horizon, wining and dining and smiling and back-splapping in splendid fashion at the fabulous Hotel Metropole in Hanoi.
Just another day in the post reality.