The president (a once austere title which no longer even merits a capital P) has for decades explained his draft-dodging during the Vietnam War with bone spurs in his left foot. Or maybe it was his right foot. Well, certainly it was some foot.
During D-Day memorial week, however, he honed his refusal to perform his duty to God and country. He wasn’t “a fan of that war;” the battle was far away in a place he had never heard of; it wasn’t like fighting Hitler for Pete’s sake, so, really, why bother?
Let me simplify his excuses for young people who will be called for the next world war, for surely there will be one. Serve only if it’s a likable, fun war in a place close to home, say Cleveland or Erie. A war on Communism has been dismissed as unworthy by Dear Leader, and there are “fine people” in the tiki-torch-carrying bunch, so not sure what the war topic will be, but old, white, male politicians will come up with something. They like war.
Trump’s sage advice on where, when and why to fight for freedom has lent a whole new meaning to the adage “choose your battles.” How’s MAGA working out for everybody now?
Donald Trump now refers to himself as a “stable genius.”
I can agree with that. He’s just got the wrong end of the horse.