Toys in the Attic

"One Christmas the boys received three Tonka trucks, which soon became Robert’s favorite toys. As soon as Donald figured that out, he started hiding them from his little brother and pretending he had no idea where they were. The last time it happened, when Robert’s tantrum spiraled out of control, Donald threatened to dismantle the trucks in front of him if he didn’t stop crying. Desperate to save them, Robert ran to his mother. Mary’s solution was to hide the trucks in the attic, effectively punishing Robert, who’d done nothing wrong, and leaving Donald feeling invincible. He wasn’t yet being rewarded for selfishness, obstinacy, or cruelty, but he wasn’t being punished for those flaws, either." -Mary L. Trump. Too Much and Never Enough: How My Family Created the World’s Most Dangerous Man

    
     I took a break from reading Dr. Mary Trump's book on my Kindle when I saw this. It made me think of the family anecdote that Mary told about Donald hiding Tonka trucks from his brother Robert and then Mary, Donald's mother, hiding the trucks in the attic.
     I guarantee you this incident from Trump's childhood was not far from the cob-webbed recesses of his Adderall-addled mind.
     It seems insane and inconceivable that a "president" gets to be so lawless and criminal in virtually his every move and public statement that he's allowed to violate the Hatch Act and to openly campaign for an office he never legitimately won at the White House. Tuesday's slurred and sloppy 45 minute monologue that comprised 8300 words was bad enough and absolutely shattered the federal prohibition on campaigning from the White House. So, yes, the proverbial Rose Garden campaign that Trump is literally waging is incredibly illegal.
    

     So was the stunt pulled by Trumpie the Klown and the unofficial First Lady, Ivanka Trump yesterday in pimping Goya products during a pandemic. Federal officials are expressly forbidden by federal law from appearing to endorse one product or candidate over another. In true Trump fashion, this incredibly bone-headed, typically extralegal Trump dick move is supposed to counteract the boycott calls for Goya after its CEO essentially fellated Trump at the White House at a meeting of Hispanic business leaders.

     But general election years are the unofficial second silly season that, thankfully, come only quadrennially (although, in the Glorious Age of Trump, that's been every year since Putin installed him in the Oval Office.)
      And I think it's been underestimated how much Trump has been guided and propelled into sociopathic ineptitude and cruelty by his childhood memories. Earlier in her memoir, Dr. Trump writes,

     When Maryanne’s turn came, she said, “I want to thank you for making the trip to celebrate our birthdays. We’ve come a long way since that night when Freddy dumped a bowl of mashed potatoes on Donald’s head because he was being such a brat.”   

     Everybody familiar with the legendary mashed potato story laughed—everyone except Donald, who listened with his arms tightly crossed and a scowl on his face, as he did whenever Maryanne mentioned it. It upset him, as if he were that seven-year-old boy. He clearly still felt the sting of that long-ago humiliation.

 

     ...you know, as we'd seen him do some many times over the last four years.

     He's still that little seven year-old boy being laughed at by his family after his brother dumped a bowl of mashed potatoes on his head. He never completely washed it out. Maybe that's why he said on Thursday, "You know me, my hair's gotta be perfect."