Republican Grumps and Rumps Stump for Trump; Mugwumps Fail to Dump

What would witnessing a Donald Trump/Sarah Palin rally be like?

I grabbed the chance last Independence Day weekend when they hastily agreed to star in the Western Conservative Summit (WCS), sponsored by the Colorado Christian University (CCU). As a real reality show displaying the dynamic duo in all their wacky glory, would it be entertaining? As a prescient indication of a Trump administration, would it be terrifying?

Unable to find Anderson Cooper in the media horde lining the back wall of the Rocky Mountain Ballroom at the Convention Center, I sat among the paying customers absorbing the palpable anticipation. Curiously, only half of the 4000 chairs were occupied. After solemn prayers, patriotic songs, and Christian demagogues, the audience was primed for the Messiah or Mephisto (your choice) and his disciple or she-devil (your choice).

When Mrs. Palin walked onstage, I thought, Crap, I have to redecorate. She wore a blood-red blazer and black skirt, ruining a favorite color combination used in my kitchen. Mrs. Palin parasitically praised her co-star, then ranted and rambled incoherently. She was daffy; I was doodling. Daffy … Disgraceful Alaskan Fibbing Fishwife, also Immoral (DAFFI). Mrs. Palin yanked me back with her damning indictment of The Donald dissenters: “I call them Republicans Against Trump, or RAT for short. (HAHAHA!) We are taking our country back, and you are either with us or against us.”

Mr. Trump performed as antagonistically. He picked at the scab of his loss during the Colorado Republican primary, setting aside healing the rift, insisting “it was rigged.” Spoiler Alert! Casinos, professional wrestling, and Southern voting laws are rigged. Mr. Trump also ranted and rambled incoherently, reminding me of a quack peddling a hair tonic: the Kook With a Comb Over the Color of an Orangutan’s Ass (KWAC for short). But the laughable man onstage and his enthralled audience were no laughing matters. Mr. Trump promised to return to Colorado so often we would “get sick of seeing him.”

With a creepy glee, each prattled on chastising non-supporters, denigrating Democrats, and blithering unachievable goals. Neither speaker commanded basic speaking skills, nor said anything of substance. Artifice replaced gravitas. Inexplicably, Mr. Trump’s yapping, orally flung like dung from a peeved chimp, and Mrs. Palin’s screeching, shrill and senseless like a Jabberwocky off its Ritalin, elicited standing ovations. Wait, why was I standing! The power of the mob was difficult to buck.

Politicians bedazzle like jewels; the phoniest are the shiniest. KWAC & DAFFI blinded the 2000 attendees who bestowed them rock-star status at this mad rave.

I returned home, felt flu-ish, and napped, waking to a nightmare of strangulation, gasping for breath.

The second day, having had enough of cranky and caustic speakers, I visited vendors’ booths. My old buddy Bill manned the NRA booth. (We had bonded the day before figuring out a new parking kiosk.) What did he think of Mr. Trump’s speech? “Same old bullshit.”

Young, perky, pretty Amy manned (womaned?) Turning Point USA, a conservative cause targeting high school and college students. “Like MoveOn.org,” she explained, “only far right.” “Far out,” I said regrettably. Amy had loved Mr. Trump’s speech, and later, had confronted angry demonstrators. “I got a lot of support!” she said.

Silicone squeeze-heads of Obama with an attached tag “1-20-17” (his last day in office) covered the table of The Weekly Standard, a conservative magazine indirectly owned by Colorado’s Anschutz Corporation. Shirley encouraged me to take as many as I wanted. (I’m thinking eBay.) What did she think of Mr. Trump’s speech? “He met my expectations.” When pressed to elaborate? “He met my expectations.” Okay.

Seeking signs of the Log Cabin Republicans, the conservative gay organization that made headlines last year when they were denied their own booth, I found none.

As a pundit seeking truth, I’m like a pig rooting for truffles; at least, the pig finds its shrooms. But truth is tricky. Whose truth? Repeat a lie often enough and convince enough people to believe it, the lie becomes “truth.” For two days, the “truth” I heard came from:

Republicans 

The Centennial Institute, an affiliated think tank with CCU and major player at the WCS, claims on its website: “We are not a lobby … we do not endorse candidates or ballot issues … we are not for or against any political party.” Yet, at the summit all, topics supported far-right positions, Mr. Trump appeared as the presumptive presidential candidate (a pseudo-endorsement), all political speakers were Republican, and all Democrats were demonized with Obama their anti-Christ. Note to tank: Think about the Commandment, “Thou shalt not lie.” Discuss.

Grumps

Grandstanding defenders, mostly pissed-off, old white guys, spoon-fed their mostly pissed-off, old white audience who swallowed a smorgasbord of fear. Attendees might as well have been carrying “The End Is Near” placards.

Rumps

 Advocates barked asinine claims, and vendors displayed theirs: America is the greatest country in the world; NOT ONE of Obama’s policies works to their satisfaction and will be perpetuated by that harridan Hillary; ONLY THEY can make this country great again. These cornerstone themes defied logic and denied recognition of inherent contradiction.

Mugwumps  

Wikipedia states during the presidential election of 1884, enough Republicans rejected their financially corrupt, untrustworthy, and fraudulent candidate (sound familiar?), swinging the close race to victory by Democrat Grover Cleveland. “Mugwump” morphed from an Algonquian Indian name for “important person” to fence-sitter, his “mug” or face on one side and his “wump” or rump on the other. Angry Republicans “sometimes hinted [Mugwumps] were homosexual, calling them ‘man milliners.’” The Dump Trump movement obviously failed, but protesters, voters like my buddy Bill, and 2000 missing attendees proved all was not hunky-dory in Donald-Land. Let us pray this history repeats itself and today’s man-milliners multiply exponentially.

The summit was sponsored by organizations purporting to represent Christianity and its standard bearer who preached love, tolerance, forgiveness. I found none of that. “Beware of false prophets,” the Christ warned in Matthew 7:15, “who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.” I found plenty of them.

In mass delusion, WCS presenters howled they spoke for all of America. This pack of wolves propagandized passions and religion as fact. Critical thinking meant criminal treason. Disagreeing patriots were branded conspiratorial traitors. Special interests and dictatorial dogma superseded compromise for the common good. There was no “love thine enemies as thyself,” only anger and judgment to destroy imaginary enemies. There was no room at this inn for their savior. Jesus would have wept.

I will weep too if Mr. Trump wins the presidency. Millions of my fellow citizens will cheer, which saddens, angers, and scares me because The KWAC & DAFFI Show — terrifying, NOT entertaining — predicated on lies and exaggerated fears, represented a dangerous force gripping our country and grinding away any vestige of unification. Rallies in Nazi Germany and fascist Italy kept coming to mind. A Hillary Clinton victory will be as divisive, unification as elusive, but at least a sane person will be in office.

By my guess, Mr. Trump has broken nine of the Ten Commandments (and maybe the killing one indirectly). So why did none of these Christians possess the spine to denounce The Donald publicly? Because he is NOT Hillary. Insanely, that is all he needs to get their votes. The Founding Fathers, invoked often at the summit, must be flipping their collective wig.

Mr. Trump was partially right about one thing: I was sick of seeing him, but it took only one visit.