C. W. Klein

Original Artwork: Artist Unknown

Late in 1989, I was working as a very poor excuse for an exotic dancer for a small entertainment shop in South Philadelphia. As I had very little in the way of "moves" and had the physical aspects of a lumbering beast, my job was quickly terminated. But the owner decided to keep me on for deliveries, as long as I would take on a very specific contract. I was to deliver 100 Gorillas for a very special client. These were inflated gorillas to be delivered all over the tri-state area for Donald Trump of Trump Hotel and Casino as invitations to a New Year's Eve Gala. I successfully delivered 98 of the 100 Gorillas and returned the 2 remaining ones to the shop. Both of these had addresses that did not exist. The owner of the shop made the decision to keep these expensive inflatables instead of returning them to Trump. I argued the point and was dismissed. At this point in my life, I honestly do not know if it was my personal code of ethics or an attempt at revenge that caused me to call the Trump corporation. I was originally promised $50 per delivery and was given $10 and told "to be happy with it". I called the hotel, reported what happened, and the receptionist thanked me and told me that should I ever find myself in Atlantic City, I should present myself to the desk and I would get a suite, a meal and some funds for the "new" casino. At this point, the facility was only 5 years old and I had nothing to do that weekend, so it was time for a road trip. I was sure it was only an empty promise, but I had nothing better to do. I presented myself to the desk, and sure enough, my name was on a "list". I was given a wonderful suite, free room service for the weekend, some credit in the casino and, as an added bonus, I was invited to meet "the great man" that night. With long curly hair, jeans and a tee-shirt, a leather jacket and jump boots, I walked into a party, escorted by a liaison that was dressed more like a playboy bunny than a company liaison. Walking behind her, I noted that he skirt was too short and the wafting perfume was like a cloud behind her. I entered a different world. Expensive suits and dresses, diamonds and other fine gems adorning bored looking people and other things that I would never disclose to the gentle public. We approached "The Donald". Only 43 years old at the time, Mr. Trump put himself across as a man of power. He dominated conversations and transmitted an air of confidence. The liaison quickly explained my presence and turned to leave. He held out his hand, put his hand on my shoulder and his eyes wandered to the rear of his representative, lingering until she had passed from sight. "Thank you!" he said. "I am told they have taken care of you. If there is ever anything I can do for you, let me know. Enjoy the party." With that he was gone. The handshake felt dirty. Sweaty hands left a residue and a fake smile burned into my mind. I stayed for about half an hour, sitting on an overstuffed love seat and listening to those around me. An older man asked "The Donald" if he would ever run for President, considering his success in his youth. The Donald replied that he would never want that kind of responsibility and that Ronald Reagan had done a good job, and he was hopeful for George H. W. Bush. On hearing this, I thanked my personal gods, because this man as president would be terrifying.

On January 20, 2017, the United States of America took a drastic turn into the Twilight Zone as Donald J. Trump was inaugurated as the 45th President of the United States. I sat in reflection of my one and only meeting with "the Donald" and the next two years proved that my original thoughts on this type of presidency were well founded. The United States has slipped into a shock-jock reality show reflection of what it once was. Brother has turned against brother, and good people have been transformed into hate-mongering children riding a pendulum between crying over hurt feelings and rising voices and hands against everything that they used to believe in. We are a country that is bent. Not yet broken, but we are close to the snapping point. This is reflected on a global scale as we engage in unending warfare in the middle east, humanitarian crisis in multiple regions, a drug crisis on a global scare and an administration that fails to understand the global impact of our actions with regards to climate and how we are quickly killing the planet on which we live. This final point, is reaching critical mass, and without quick and decisive resolution, our home will no longer be able to support life in the very near future.

In November of 2017, Donald Trump re-tweeted three videos of an anti-muslim nature. These propaganda videos were quickly attacked from all sides and proven to be out of context. Then came the breaking point. As the White House backpedaled with their tail between their legs, Sarah Huckabee Sanders addressed the media. Paraphrased, she said, as the mouthpiece of the Leadership of this Country that it does not matter if they lied about the videos, they are still bad people. In short, the mouthpiece of the capital of this country, said that it is okay to lie as long as you get your way. And this was not the beginning of a campaign of dishonesty, but it was a push point. We see it every day on Twitter, through the media, and coming out of the swamp. Fake facts from the leadership that cries about fake news. Checks on almost any speech given shows a pattern of dishonesty. And this cascades through the administration. Leaders on high spout lies like water, and we, the American People, suckle them like mother's milk. And we praise the liars and call them "good people".