Trump as an Advent calendar

I was raised a marginal Methodist. Mom was a 9-1-1 Christian. About the only time I heard the Lord’s name was at the start of our summer vacation, when she would ask Him to watch over us on our journey. For many years I thought He worked for the Auto Club.

Aside from Christmas gifts and Easter candy, I didn’t see many perks from True Believing, but one yuletide when I was 9 or so, my sister and I got Advent calendars about a month before December 25th. They were thicker than usual pieces of paper with a holiday scene. A page underneath it had drawings of toys and other joys. Each morning we opened a serrated piece of the calendar about the size of our thumbnails. Mom said it was like getting a gift every day. It wasn’t, but I appreciated the thought.

When the 25th finally rolled around, I awakened to to finish off the calendar and get an actual gift: a punching bag on a stand that you had to put a foot on to stabilize. I assembled it hastily and improperly, gave it as good an uppercut any 9-year-old could and sent the bag sailing into our Christmas tree, knocking it over, breaking many decorations and scaring the shit out of our cat.

But I digress. Trump is like an Advent calendar. With four weeks to go until the mid-terms, every day he gives us the gift of hilarious hypocrisy, like offering $90 to some of us senior citizens. He’s so panicked that he’s willing to pay for the ad campaign that tries to deify him. He’s bragging about huge crowds in huge venues while cameras show otherwise. He has to magnify his horseshit distribution with clowns like Scott Bessent and Kevin Hassett. He’s encouraging people to vote EARLY BY MAIL.

He’s losing political altitude daily, and it can’t happen quickly enough for me. The less clout he has, the less an impact he can make when it’s showtime.