Three days ago Donald Trump was sworn in as the 45th President of the United States. Or did he just swear his two-term egotism in whether anyone was ceremoniously watching or not? Either in the same world as Trump, or perhaps some chosen parallel world, I broke my usual routine of listening to the BBC Radio 4 news at 1pm. I wanted to witness this historic event on TV. After carrying in some salad and bread for lunch from the kitchen to the living room, I realised that I’d got the time wrong. It was 8 am in Washington and noon in London. The ceremony wouldn’t kick off here until 4.30pm. As I stood up to switch of the TV I knocked a bowl of beetroot onto the carpet. This immediate stain of beetroot water looked similar to a spurt of blood after someone’s throat had been cut. Only my carpet mark was purple not red. I swore at the stain then looked back at the TV to see a photograph of Donald Trump with his thumb up for victory. I rushed into the kitchen for a sponge and washing-up liquid.
First I attacked the beetroot ‘gash’ with a mug of cold water. Whilst diligently sponging it the stain began to take on the appearance of an omen or portent of bad things to come. Neither I nor the American nation would be able to remove our respective stains.
Hours later after lunch I settled down for Trump’s first Presidential address. It’s January and too cold for Trump’s cheeks to exhibit much colour. Yet not freezing. His old pre-election heat still fired up his words. I’ve never heard a more nationalistic inauguration speech than this. No call for unity but a more forceful promise to his followers to throw out the political elite and their corrupt practices. Trump promised to halt the “carnage” of crime occurring on “our” American streets, bring back jobs to factory workers and help “beautiful” young students to achieve an education. He was not going to forget the forgotten. From day 1 of his Presidency he’d fight for them.
“In conclusion, Trump’s hair growing out of his head, long combed back and dyed the nascent yellow of a baby chick” Caroline Mitgang (hairdresser) Quartz Media LLC website.
I glanced down at the carpet. The watery brown spot was hopefully absolved of the purple terror of beetroot stain. Apart from beetroots’ healthy benefits – folic acid, fibre, vitamin C and antioxidants, its juice is regarded as a remedy to fight the itchiness of a flaky scalp. I stared at Trump’s hair and concluded it wasn’t a toupee. Trump’s genuine billionaire hair, albeit coloured Midas gold (Sometimes it looks carrot stained, smoothed back and displaying a highly confident quiff that will undoubtedly survive the approaching political storms, proving to be more resilient at sticking around than my transient spillage.) Trump looks after his hair by himself most of the time. It’s rumoured that it’s cut by a member of the family. So is Melania Trump allowed to snip a little at the locks of Samson the great businessman. And does she apply the hair colorants?
Trump’s speech didn’t mention any unification of the people. A carefully worded plea on how you handle the nation was delivered by the only Democrat to speak at the inauguration, Senator Charles E. Schumer – leader of the Senate Democrats.
“Whatever our race, religion, sexual orientation, gender identity: whether we are immigrant or native-born; whether we live with disabilities or do not: in wealth or in poverty, we are all exceptional in our commonly held yet fierce devotion to our country…every day we stand up for core democratic principles enshrined in the constitution, the rule of law, equal protection for all under the law, the freedom of speech, press and religion – the things that make America, America.”
You can easily see this as a coded attack on Donald Trump and his supporter’s (Hillary Clinton’s ill-chosen word “deplorables” revealed how out of touch she was with the “Rustbelt” electorate). Schumer was unable to use the word “great” for America (or more likely wisely omitted a word so rapidly debased by Trump – does he not want to add this afterthought, “America great for me, me, me!”)
Next morning I was relieved to see the carpet dry and vanished of any purple smear. Trump’s head, with it’s smoothed down, tamed hair, was probably applying itself to the signing of the first of his executive orders to repeal Obama Healthcare. And soon the orange carrot top Donald would be trumping on to meet the hair styles and hair colours (natural and dyed) of lined-up apprehensive leaders. The first being the naturally and legally blonde Theresa May, next week.
Today I heard from the Trump team the term, “alternative facts.” This was defensively employed to dismiss the press accurately reporting the real facts about the number of people who actually attended the inauguration ceremony. Such an Orwellian term for lies has astounded everyone who believes in truth supported by hard evidence. Yet perhaps not even Trump’s most ardent followers on social media. They’re probably not checking bureaucratic facts or “alternative facts” but shrugging their shoulders and saying. “Experts and facts – who cares about them, we saw ourselves at our and his (Trump’s) reality show coronation. Crowd numbers don’t mean a thing!”
In this kind of Trumpian world an “alternative fact” could be that it was blood on my carpet not beetroot water. And that the stain hasn’t gone away. That it’s just festering and will re-appear at the right time. But it doesn’t matter if it’s purple and not red. Besides the colour purple symbolises power and pomp. Anyway don’t worry. Have yourself a Caesar salad (Like Trump does with his relished junk food diet) and leave out the beetroot. It’s messy stuff. “Sure, President Trump likes beetroot, like the best of us, but he’d never spill it, or a drop of blood, on the floor. Here’s to him cleaning out the cesspool of politics. Let’s not concern ourselves with the ethnically woven (mine isn’t) carpets of those precious liberals!”