Donald Trump arrived in Arizona on Wednesday aboard a luxury jet from Qatar and informed the American people that he can remember five words. It was an unusually expensive way to deliver the sort of update most families receive from a preschool teacher.
The words, as he recounted them, were “hat, hair, logo, white, black.” He explained that he could repeat them after half an hour, in order, which established that he was a “freaking genius.”
I appreciate that he included the words so the rest of us could attempt the climb. Please have someone nearby before trying it yourself. You may reach “logo” and need supplementary oxygen.
What makes this especially wonderful is that hat, hair, and logo are practically his entire field of study. He has spent decades arranging those three things on top of his head. This is like asking a golden retriever to remember ball, dinner, walk, squirrel, and the name of the person currently holding the ham. Even then, most golden retrievers have the humility to accept a biscuit and get on with their afternoon.
Trump described the test as a series of increasingly difficult challenges, beginning with identifying a lion among pictures of animals. By his account, the doctors were astonished at his eventual performance. He also suggested that very few people in the audience could manage the harder questions.
Imagine standing in the Arizona sun waiting for help with your bills and discovering that the president has flown in to explain that you probably couldn’t find the lion. You’ve taken time out of your day, arranged transportation, and your shirt is adhering to your spine. Somewhere behind the stage sits an aircraft supplied by a foreign royal family, and the man who arrived on it is walking you through his greatest afternoon with a clipboard.
I would love to know what the medical staff originally said, before the story went through the presidential enhancement process. There is a substantial distance between “good, we can move on” and “call Stockholm, he has retained the hat.”
I’m imagining a doctor making a perfectly ordinary note while Trump waits for someone to lower a laurel wreath onto him. The doctor reaches for the blood pressure cuff, and an aide gently intervenes to explain that the president would prefer the Nobel committee measure his arm.
The aircraft portion of the speech was equally reassuring. Trump defended accepting the Qatari jet by explaining, “When they give you a 747, you say two words: ‘Thank you.’”
There we are. An ethical question involving the president of the United States and a foreign government has been settled using the rules for receiving a birthday sweater. My mother also taught me to say thank you. I don’t recall the section where this entitled us to accept an international airport’s worth of favor from the emir of Qatar, although it’s possible I was absent that day.
There is usually some discussion between “a nice gesture” and “we need somewhere to park it.” If your aunt gives you a candle, you send a card. If she gives you a Boeing, you’re entitled to ask a few follow-up questions about your aunt.
Trump also explained that he had wanted the plane because other countries had nicer ones. According to his account, arriving in America’s older aircraft beside the newer, larger planes bothered him.
So our national dignity had apparently reached the stage where a wealthy man was embarrassed by his ride outside the diplomatic function. The United States was being dropped off at the summit in Dad’s station wagon, and Donald wanted everyone to understand that this wasn’t even our real car. Now he has a bigger one, and we can resume being respected.
Meanwhile, AP reports that he complained about journalists asking about affordability as he discussed the plane and his various renovation projects. You can understand his frustration. He has just explained how easy it is to acquire transportation at no purchase price, and these people are still whining about car payments. Have they called Qatar? Have they even tried?
Somewhere, a woman is checking her bank balance in the grocery store parking lot while the president explains that the secret to getting ahead is to have a wealthy monarch give you something with an upper deck.
Perhaps that’s the economic plan. We’ve been approaching household expenses at entirely the wrong altitude. Stop clipping coupons and develop a personal relationship with someone who owns a peninsula.
The whole performance leaves us with a president who expects applause for remembering five words and gratitude for accepting an airplane, while becoming irritated when anyone brings up the cost of living. The public is being asked to attend an extended show-and-tell for a man whose backpack requires a hangar.
For his next demonstration, I would like to suggest five different words:
Please. Discuss. The. Grocery. Bill.
We can give him half an hour.
My dog just passed that test!
My goldfish did pretty well