A scant few of you readers will recognize the source of today’s column title, which is understandable given the age of the film where the sentiment appeared. It was from Mel Brooks’ 1981 spoof “History of the World, Part II.” Of course, the utterance came after the King, played by Brooks, had taken liberties only a monarch could do without administrative restriction and with total disregard for public outcry.
I find in our present political situation the highest elected official in the land precisely fits the type of personality of Brooks’ King; except without the intended humor. Mr. Trump in himself is a humorless man as shown with his attacks on the half dozen late-night pundits who have skewered his words and actions to the delight of millions of viewers. A very thin-skinned fellow is our fearful leader.
In his role as America’s first reigning king, this poorly educated mess of a human being has, nonetheless, millions of mindless followers whose constant fawning over his every word and action have emboldened an already brash and pompous personality to flourish. And now we have gotten to a point in our history where this egotistical manchild rebrands the country with his name and image while the country just sits and watches it happen. And those who are opposed to such acts of public hubris speak out only to find their voices are drowned out by construction equipment tearing up America’s heritage only to be replaced by gaudy gilded tributes and honorariums in the image of a felonious child predator and grifter.
We sit by and watch as this self-centered man feeds his insecurities by tearing down revered public buildings only to be replaced by homages to himself, we listen to his plaintive cries to be honored with the world’s most prestigious peace award, we hear him tout the idea that his image should join those of four other presidents on a national monument, and we sit by while plans move forward to erect an arch dedicated not to sacrifice or heroism but to, ostensibly, triumph. What triumph? We are a country still trying to overcome racial inequality, human rights applied to all, universal health care, poverty in low places and greed in high places, and the highest citizen kill rate on the planet.
Like many others, I am dismayed at why so much of the populace of this country still stand by this man and defend even his most hideous behavior; even those who will pay dearly for his cutting of so many social programs and his prohibitive tariffs and reckless foreign policies. But this type of behavior in any person, regardless of age, is often corrected after time. Once this self-anointed king is dethroned, hopefully deposed before his reign is up, all the tributes he has built for himself will be removed, redesigned and restructured for better use. His image and name will be removed from the many places where he has intruded himself in search of honors he is not due in this life or the next. And in time the history books will reveal that in America it really isn’t good to be the king.
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For some time now, I have observed the changing trends when it comes to color, especially in clothing and automobiles. If one sees, as I did the other day via a video, at the past 50 years it is easy to see that vibrant colors have all but disappeared from the American landscape; the psychedelic has been replaced by the monochromatic. In the video there appeared a split-screen photograph of two large parking lots, one circa 1967 and the other a few weeks old, and the contrast is a real eye opener. For the most part, the modern vehicle comes in white, black, a variety of shades of greys, with a few muted earth tones tossed in the mix. Today we no longer see multitudes of brightly colored cars and trucks, with prominent reds, blues, yellows, greens and two-tones rolling across the country’s byways like rainbow ribbons.
This is evident here in the Valley where we see thousands of vehicles but those of the color spectrum number far less than cars and trucks painted black, grey and white; especially white. Why white is so popular baffles me. The argument one hears is white cars are the easiest to keep clean; but that doesn’t register with my slow acting brain because every white shirt, pair of pants and socks I ever wore showed stains far more than colored clothing. And speaking of clothing, the trend there seems to be the same as autos; the colors are nearly gone. The fashions that young people wear today lack the vibrant colors and patterns that were so prevalent in the ’60s and ’70s; this is most notable in girl’s dresses mainly because girls don’t wear dresses nowadays unless for certain events or rituals. And I can’t recall the last time I saw a guy wearing a shirt or overgarment that wasn’t devoid of color. Maybe his sneakers, some are colorful enough to at least be noticed.
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In reference to my column from last week, John, one of the old Fifth Street Gang, reminded me that my father made it known to anyone who would listen that he had purchased a car from a dealership where the salesman’s name was Dick Bender. Those who remember decades back, Mr. Bender was also the TV spokesperson for this dealership so his name was known from San Jose to San Ardo. Rickola always maintained there was something wrong with a guy who with that particular last name and who was surely named Richard nonetheless chose to go by Dick. It could be just that my father, given his first name, detested the use of Ricky, Rich or Dick; worse yet Dickie. And with that little bit of information of questionable purpose another column, the fourth of five this month, comes to a close.
Take care. Peace.
