Hypothetically ...

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You love your father 

but he is intoxicated with bravado. 

He has a mouth that will not

stop moving and always detours

when it approaches anything

resembling the truth.

He and he alone
knows the name
of the mastermind
behind the JFK assassination.

He told the story
at least ten times
and at least nine times,
the name changed.

It was a guy named Barry.
A high class hooker named Henrietta.
A midget with a limp 
who called himself
Clark Gable
or
Guido, the Governor of Guam
...
   

Everyone else in the family

laughs behind his back

but kowtows to his face

because Daddy is wealthy,

in an elephantine way.

It would be stupid

to get written out

of his will.

For every dollar he saved,
he added another digit.

At the age of eight,
he saved $10 then $200
and then $3000
but only had $3
in the bank.

But now,
he was a bona fide billionaire.
He measured his wealth
—and ego—
with one billion digits.  

Everyone laughed at him
except you:

the one he named

after himself.

He has secretly given you

"allowances" that will guarantee

you never need to do

an honest day's work.

(Despite the fact that,

within your family

honesty is

an alien concept.)

Yet you genuinely

love the old goat

because there was never

a day or an hour

or a minute

when he did not 

have time

for Junior.

Secret time

for Junior

but no secret time

for any of your 

seven siblings

or the four mothers

who birthed them.

The one who isn't

your mother 

is the only one

who hasn't seduced you

or vice versa.

When laughter resonates

from your social circles

because of something

your father said or did,

an arrow pierces your heart.

You get violent and arrested

but of course, Daddy knows

whose palms to grease

and all records

of your arrest

disappear.

When the same laughter

resonates within the social circles

of your seven siblings,

that laughter gets multiplied

by those seven siblings.

That you have genuine feelings

about your father 

or about anything 

separates you from

all of the siblings.

It also separates you

from all of their mothers.

Finally,

for your twenty-eighth birthday,

you get yourself a megaphone,

wrapped in aluminum foil.

At your birthday party,

with fifty members

of your family present

—including too many cute cousins—

your father, as always, was motor-mouthing.

His gobblydegook

drowned out all present

except for the only one

who bears the exact same name.

You shout into the megaphone

Shut the F**k up,

Daddy Dearest.

And he did exactly that.

Never again did he speak

above a whisper.

Never again did he speak

anything that was fabricated.

Never again did your siblings

ignore honest or genuine feelings.

The same is true

for the mothers

who begat them.

Never again does your father

lie, cheat or steal or inspire

behind his back

hilarity.

All because you did

what any genuine son

would do for a genuinely
crazy father.

...

Not now, not in 2020

nor 2024 nor 2028

but at a later date,

if you decide to seek

the highest office

in this land

you will get
my vote.

              

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Footnotes

To believe that the revelations of Donald Trump Jr.

are indefensible is to admit having zero understanding

about family dynamics.

The next  GoFather/Trump page is
here 

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