100 Words to Describe President Donald Trump

To quote that eerily prophetic song by The Doors, strange days have found us.

Following President Trump’s alleged appalling manners on the phone in a recent one-sided rant
cordial telephone conversation with Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull (that’s T.U.R.N.B.U.L.L. Sean Spicer), I decided to embark on some research.

President Trump lets his finger do the talking

From my trawling through the gazillabytes of stories, memes and general WTF-ness about the tangerine clown currently wreaking havoc behind the Resolute Desk in the White House,
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islamophobic myopic dictator cunning idiot courageous fascist sexist misogynist hero ignorant bully showoff blunt incompetent outspoken grandiloquent meglomaniac dumb comical bigot satan rude successful selfish disgusting pussygrabber douchebag arrogant fool unfit brilliant wanker ballsy asshat tangerine pompous brave straight-talking clown nuts blowhard plutocrat demagogue chauvinistic repugnant wazzock leader dangerous confident aggressive saviour orange racist brash bombastic egotistical rich inept genius unrepentant trustworthy buffoon truthful xenophobic moron transphobic thug fopdoodle honest bankrupt embarrassing different refreshing boisterous moron opinionated unqualified exciting dishonest loser despicable insane tough intelligent bullish competent appalling genius jerk narcissist warmonger entertaining obnoxious scary dickhead corrupt f*ckwit sociopath

President.

©Steve Williams 2017

No Thanks Donald Trump, Keep Your Snake Oil

Over the years I’ve worked with a hell of a lot of sales people.

I don’t want one of your f*****g steaks, either

Some good, some psychotic, which of course you could say for any “profession”, but a psychotic salesperson is something to behold, and not in a good way.

Sales people are a certain breed.

President-elect Donald Trump… I can’t believe I just wrote that… this is a very f****d up Twilight Zone / Black Mirror episode… but I digress. Donald J. Trump is a sales person. The ultimate.
Reported guestimates of his bank balance range between $150, $3 billion or $10 billion, give or take.

With Trump, it’s all about closing the deal, he wrote THAT book which thankfully I have avoided. Trump closed the deal early Wednesday morning – the keys to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave NW, Washington, DC.

So where to now? During the campaign Trump made a litany of very well documented promises to his faithful (we all saw them as outrageous threats), but will he follow through? Or in true snake oil salesman mode, was all that ranting simply BS, means to an end of winning the Presidency?
Who knows? With Trump, you get the impression that he is constantly making it up as he goes along, to borrow that line from Monty Python. We’re all in very murky unchartered waters,
heading straight for the Bermuda Triangle.
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No doubt many of his hard core supporters would have been simultaneously disappointed and disillusioned with his victory speech. It was extremely un-Trumplike, none of the vitriol, no locking up of “Crooked Hillary”, no wall-building threats, no pussies were grabbed, nobody was threatened with deportation. I laughed when it was reported as “being Presidential”, I put it down to the fact he’s an old man and it was waaaay past his bedtime.

Is Trump serious about making America great again? What does that very shallow four-word slogan even mean? Define “great”. Trump was following the old adage of tell ‘em what they want to hear and closed the deal.

Let’s pick one of his campaign “policies”. Did he / does he have any intention of building that wall? Again, who knows how any of this will play out. He’ll no doubt wheel out that hoary old chestnut (which is itself a hoary old chestnut),“Well you know I wanted to <insert bizarre promise> I really did. I promised you I would. But I was blocked. They’re weak. Cowards… etc etc”. The faithful will chug down some more Kool-Aid.

Trump’s meeting with President Obama in the White House on Thursday was surreal to say the least. Trump used the words “great respect” which is laughable, considering the whole birther thing, and the blowtorch he continually took to Obama during the election campaign. But did he really mean any of that? Neither of them looked like they wanted to be there. The body language experts had a field day.

So I suppose it is a matter of watching this space, to see what President steak salesman and beauty pageant owner does. I find it highly amusing / terrifying that his campaign team barred him from Twitter during the final days of the campaign, and now he has the nuclear codes. You seriously couldn’t make this stuff up.

Millions across the planet are proclaiming that the Trump presidency will be the end of the world… and to quote the classic R.E.M. song, Trump will respond with “and I feel fine.”

©Steve Williams 2016

*This piece also appeared in The Huffington Post Australia:
No Thanks, Donald Trump, Keep Your Snake Oil

When The Redneck Met Gough Whitlam

To commemorate what would have been the 100th birthday of Gough Whitlam, relive my tribute from 2014.

I was only ten years old when former Australian Prime Minister Gough Whitlam was unceremoniously dismissed from office in 1975, but his death last week had a profound impact on me, as it did on so many other Australians.

Prime Ministerial amusement

I am not only sorry at his passing, he was such a towering presence — physically and politically.

Many in Australia mourn that Gough’s political legacy has been tragically trashed over the subsequent decades, by both sides of politics. I doubt we will see a return to those heady days.

I had the pleasure of meeting “The Great Man” years ago when writing radio commercials
at Sydney radio station 2KY, which at that time was owned by the Labor Council of New South Wales.

Former NSW premier Barrie Unsworth was the General Manager and was showing Gough around the palatial corporate edifice.
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I was rather a fan of the Mambo clothing company. On the day in question, I was suitably attired in the standard creative uniform of a Mambo t-shirt.

My selection that day was a satirical parody of the famous Australian match brand Redheads (apologies to Australian readers for getting the glove puppets of explanation out). In place of the flaming caricature redhead, my t-shirt depicted controversial “politician” and all round embarrassment to Australia Pauline Hanson. The word “Redheads” had been brilliantly replaced by “Rednecks” with assorted contents and warnings as you can see.

After exchanging pleasantries with Gough, he looked down (quite literally) at my t-shirt,
smiled and said “Well done, Comrade.”

A memorable moment from an unforgettable man.

Vale, Gough.

©Steve Williams 2016

Barry O’Farrell – when good manners attack

So. Australian political leader — NSW Premier Barry O’Farrell has resigned in what has become known as #GrangeGate.

The resignation was not over the gift of a $3,000 bottle of 1959 Penfolds Grange Hermitage, no, what brought Barry unstuck were his good manners.

Hi Ho Silver! Away…

On Tuesday, the then Premier fronted the Independent Commission Against Corruption, denying under oath he had received the bottle of wine in question.

His downfall was his handwritten thank you note, which miraculously arose today (well it is nearly Easter).

Bad blue Barry. You shouldn’t have listened to the enclave of etiquette experts that tsk “obviously every gift requires a thank-you note.”

The heady topic has been covered by Oprah, and Jimmy Fallon writes out his thank you notes each week. Thankfully he is taking the proverbial.
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Barry even religiously followed the suggested format for his thank you note — addressing the giver, expressing gratitude, and how much the gesture means to him.

All very proper — now he’s out of a job. For a simple scrawl about a bottle of red that was allegedly on the nose.

This all happened the very day The Duke, Duchess and Prince of Cambridge (Kate’n’Will’n’George to us Aussies) arrived in Sydney for the start of their Australian wave-a-thon.

Barry was supposed to host Mr & Mrs C. at a galah Sydney Opera House knees-up, though was an obvious no-show. Bugger.

I hope Mrs O’Farrell kept the receipt for the frock she was going to wear.

©Steve Williams 2014