Impeachment Week 7: Kentucky Punches Up, Trump Trickles Down

Donald Trump is out of gas.

This occurred to me during one of those feverish dreams that can be caused by too much alcohol, weed and LSD after running the Boston Marathon—or, in my case, by a cross-country flight crammed into a space in which only an emaciated chipmunk could feel comfortable, with a John Candy-like seatmate from Planes, Trains and Automobiles.

In this particular feverish spectacle Donald Trump was stuck on an endless loop, speaking about a whistleblowers, witch hunts and transcripts—oh my! 

Landing in D.C. from L.A. I woke and knew It was no dream; it’s a reality-laced nightmare fueled by a formal impeachment inquiry that is destined to end up in a Senate trial sometime after the first of the year. Trump’s defense is lackluster, as is the GOP’s defense of him. “We got nuthin’,” a GOP senate staffer told me bluntly. Pundits, meanwhile, are shouting this isn’t a referendum on Donald Trump as much as it is a referendum on who we are as a country.

The jury is already back on that, folks. We are a reality-show deluded nation who elected an unqualified oaf to the country’s highest office. He is a man despised by his strongest supporters and would never get an invitation to a neighborhood barbecue if he didn’t wield the power of the presidency. Further, we are a nation of two warring factions of extremists. Our politicians make hay on keeping it that way—but also by keeping it manageably dysfunctional. Trump is no aberration; he is the pale reflection in a hi-def mirror of the United States. And he rode into town with a bombast that makes nuns blush, progressives scream and right-wing nuts cheer and shit themselves while the rest of us shake our heads in dismay.

The very binary nature of our political experience in this country is anathema to reality, where many shades of gray exist. But don’t tell that to the politicians and supporters thriving off the chaos. Trump sells his dystopia every day, from his tweets to his appearances. Bolstered by his fellow radioactive waste dispensers, Trump relies on dog whistles to the faithful. He is the ultimate one-trick pony who can alienate his detractors and whip his most fervent fans into a frothing frenzy with a 280-character tweet.

Senator Mitch McConnell, one of the few who seem to know how to take advantage of Trump, has manipulated events to his advantage, pushing through conservative judges of questionable character and forging an uneasy alliance with the president that has led to his “Moscow Mitch” moniker on social media. McConnell privately may not like Trump, but the Senator has certainly used him and continues to do so—to the point many believe McConnell will personally strong-arm any recalcitrant GOP senators (if indeed there are any) and short-circuit an impeachment trial in the Senate. McConnell and Trump are the living embodiment of the binary nature of our politics: They may hate each other, and by all reports they do, but they’ve forged their alliance to garner a victory against the “do-nothing Democrats.”

It all boils down to “us versus them.” There is no middle ground. There is anger. There is resentment and Trump foments it on both sides to keep us from paying attention to economic and social issues that matter, the consequences of which will not be seen for another 10 to 20 years. By then the criminals will be nothing more than dust in their crypts and they’re betting their crimes long forgotten while our collective lifestyles will have suffered and a new generation of adults will wonder why.

It is the same mentality that gave us trickle-down economics, defined by the Washington Post as “supply-side policies that claimed tax cuts for the rich would unleash so much growth that they’d generate enough revenue to fund themselves.” The disparity between the rich and the poor in this country can be traced directly back to a Reagan economic plan his own future vice president, George H.W. Bush, once called a “voodoo economic policy.” But we can’t seem to put our finger on the cause, and most of those in the Reagan administration are nothing more than cancerous political memories.

Reagan got away with it in part because he, unlike Trump, was at least cordial and could get along with those diametrically opposed to him. Speaker of the House Tip O’Neill, in his autobiography Man of the House, outlined all of the reasons he thoroughly despised and fought Reagan, including giving birth to the political movement that as it turns out was the forerunner of today’s Trumplicans. But at the same time O’Neill acknowledged he could break bread, drink and joke with Reagan. Trump does not have the personality of Ronald Reagan, or even Ronald McDonald.

Trump is mean spirited, petulant and angry and no one wants to be his friend. His theatrics are wearing thin and growing more wearisome as the impeachment inquiry continues. Two times in as many weeks Trump failed to stop and speak with reporters as he left the White House. His backyard is usually the best place to engage with more than 175 members of the media gathered to ask him questions and record his answers, but of late he has spurned those dates with reporters to spend time with the faithful at rallies in Louisiana, Kentucky and Mississippi. Cribbing from the Richard Nixon playbook, Trump has taken the stump in the safest Southern havens. 

Little good it has done. After being booed at a World Series game and a UFC event at Madison Square Garden, Trump has been less inclined to face unvetted crowds and has seemed lackluster when he shows up at all.

Speculation has it that the Kentucky Governor Matt Bevin’s loss (which, at press time, the Governor is still challenging) and the additional losses in the statehouse in Virginia threw the president into a downward spiral. The Kentucky race was particularly frustrating because the GOP incumbent was one of the president’s most sycophantic fans and immitators. In the aftermath of the loss Senator Mitch McConnell allegedly consoled Trump and told him Bevin was simply a bad candidate. Bevin angered educators, journalists and others with his bellicosity and bad attitude. Trump does the same and worse, so despite whatever McConnell said to placate the president, Trump is left staring at the Kentucky governor’s race as a potential bellwether for the 2020 presidential race.

There are some in the White House who wonder if the strain is getting to Trump. His constant travel, his furious tweets, his lack of exercise, documented poor diet, the constant stress and the impeachment inquiry, according to senior staffers, is beginning to manifest itself in Trump’s speeches and appearances.

His minions seem to be in the same moat of misery and despair. Kellyanne Conway mixed it up with NBC’s Peter Alexander on Monday, petulantly arguing, refusing to answer questions and screaming at the press for reasons only known to her and Trump. But reporters are beginning to drift away from the Kellyanne Conway show, which seems to be in perpetual reruns. “I’ve seen it all before; what’s the point?” is an often heard comment from veteran reporters tired of dealing with the ennui of this administration. “We’re just giving them a platform and most people don’t even care what she has to say.”

Back in the first months of this administration, Major Garrett from CBS said something to me about the president that rings truer than ever today: “He will wear out his welcome.”

Everyone in the administration has worn out their welcome. There’s no point in talking with Kellyanne Conway anymore. Why fight on the undercard? There’s no point in talking to any of them except Larry Kudlow, who will talk about policy issues and economy and “stay in his lane.”

But the rest of it? High wind in the trees. Sound and fury signifying nothing. It is the storm of fools and the thunder of morons let loose on the countryside. Conway is the worst of it. Perpetually angry, with a chip on her shoulder, a sneer on her lip and snarky comments that come before you can finish asking a question, she says nothing that sheds light on anything going on in the country.

Or as a high school teacher who recently visited the White House explained to me, “It’s pointless to continue to throw questions into a void. You cannot fill a bottomless cavern.”

As Trump fumbles and his subordinates bumble through the impeachment inquiry, their biggest fear is what is coming: public hearings. As much as Conway, Trump, McConnell, Vice President Pence, Senator Graham, Congressman Jim Jordan and frat boy Matt Gaetz push back and scream about the process, the spectacle of televised hearings exposing what the president did and how he did it absolutely frightens them, no matter what they preach now. They know public hearings could push the American public over the edge and end with even the GOP voting to oust Trump.

I have covered this administration since day one. There is only one question to ask everyone in it: “Why do you lie to the American people?”

I asked Trump this question Wednesday as he boarded Marine One. He didn’t even break stride as he headed from the Oval Office to the aircraft. 

He heard my question. He waved. He sneered… and then he walked away.

Thursday, Trump’s only public appearance was a press pool spray honoring “Victims of Communism.” Five minutes before the event was to occur, the president canceled and walked away from that too.

But he cannot walk away from the reckoning that’s coming and he knows it.