Paul Corio
Like most arranged marriages, the not-so-blessed union between Donald Trump and the Republican Party turned stormy even before adult film star Stormy Daniels slunk onto the scene. The bride and groom were barely acquainted, had little in common, and, truth be told, didn’t much care for each other. The engagement featured fights, insults, accusations of infidelity, and salacious hand-measuring. Outside of that, a match made in heaven.
So it seems a bit disingenuous for Republicans to be shocked—shocked—to find themselves in a world of special-election hurt a year after stumbling down the aisle with their fair-haired spouse. Once the knot has been tied, even shotgun marriage participants are compelled to abide by that whole “for better or worse” proposition. Unfortunately for the GOP, the emphasis has been on the latter.
Every marriage has its ups and downs, but this one has oscillated between Mount Everest and the Grand Canyon. The upside included the honeymoon of controlling the House, Senate, and White House for the first time since George W. Bush had to requisition hall passes from Dick Cheney to use the West Wing lavatory. But that period of conjugal bliss had a shorter lifespan than the Harvey Weinstein Defense Fund Kickstarter campaign.
The downside is being unmasked as the race-baiting, xenophobic, misogynistic, hypocritical party of the rich they’ve spent decades trying to disguise. Our current President hasn’t ruined the Republican Party; he’s just lifted the rock it was hiding under. The evangelical community even gave him a mulligan for a porn star payoff. #MeToo.
And not many of the maids of honor or groomsmen seem overly happy with the in-law situation either. Nobody can figure out what it is that Jared and Ivanka do; except loot the gift table, make trips to countries with liberal offshore banking regulations, and float withering suggestions on which colleagues could benefit from a six-stage regimen of eyebrow sculpting.
Many suspect the First Daughter and her husband serve purely to provide emotional support. They’re preternaturally smooth Oval Office therapy dogs. Administration staffers go out of their way to be nice, but the smiles are so tight you can hear enamel cracking. And hopes are high that the next round of Oval Office musical chairs finds the two wandering upright, sporting matching deer-in-the-headlight looks.
A few of those who proudly stood next to Donnie John at the election altar in November of 2016 currently exhibit symptoms of marital remorse, expressing regret for jumping into bed with a serial abuser, especially considering that their prenuptial agreement consists solely of Mike Pence. The strangest of strange bedfellows.
But most supporters are making such incredible ethical contortions they’ve probably sparked interest from recruiters at Cirque du Soleil. Their tortured excuses run the gamut from claiming that Obama was worse to alleging that Hillary would have been worser.
Their tortured excuses run the gamut from claiming that Obama was worse to alleging that Hillary would have been worser.
Yet there’s no talk of annulment. The Republicans excuse the President’s unacceptable behavior and blatant ineptitude as though it were part of some unique management style. They are aware of how vindictive he is and they shudder at the kind of alimony that would be required to shut him up. Also, there will be no joint custody of his base.
The list of rationalizations are recognizable to staffs of battered women shelters. “He’s new at this.” “He didn’t say that and even if he did, he didn’t mean it.” “But he loves me.” “It’s just high spirits.” “It’s all my fault.” “He’s not crazy all the time.” “The step kids like him.” “Don’t judge him by his hair.” “That’s just Trump being Trump.”
Problem is, the midterm elections loom half a year away and every member of the wedding party must decide whether to trot out photos from the rehearsal dinner to demonstrate their intent to “love, honor, and obey.” Otherwise, a more enamored prospective beau might arrive from the right with a malicious hankering to introduce them to that whole “til death do us part” part.
Will Durst is an award-winning, nationally acclaimed columnist, comic, and former usher at the Oriental eater on the east side of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. For past columns, commentaries, and a calendar of personal appearances, including the updated “Durst Case Scenario: Midterm Madness,” please visit willdurst.com.