In yesterday’s ‘The View’ interview Trump's former campaign manager said “I want a killer for a President,” nearly leaping out of his seat. And “I have failed him,” his face gripped in disgust.
I feel your pain, Corey Lewandowski.
Yes. For years I believed I had failed Doug. I could not keep pace with his brilliance. But I kept trying and trying and mostly, I failed him.
It is the failing that keeps the striving going. And it is the striving that engines the entire cult ship. What we are striving for is always just beyond reach, keeping us in our place, provoking humility and self-flagellation. In failing, a pecking order is established and reinforced again and again. It is the failing that births the need for the killer. Be tough on me. I can take it. I want it. I want to feel the blood in my mouth from your hit because then I know that I am alive. Bring it on. Be tough on me!
Yeah. Be tough Donald. Oh yeah. I want a killer for a president. Be tough on the world. Be tough on the bullshit of the world. You know the truth about Jerusalem and you’ve got the guts to say what you know and let the cards fall where they may. I trust your brilliance. Yup. Donald and Doug are two peas in a brilliance pod.
Never quite able to put your finger on what exactly was happening.
But never let on that you didn’t know.
It was a feeling thing.
An energetic swoosh that would ripple through the room when he walked in, carrying a coffee cup. The chatting quieted. When he stopped to talk with someone, anyone - didn’t matter who, all eyes were casually not on him. But we all wondered and wished that we could be so lucky.
Do you let yourself think this Corey? That this man is the greatest ride the world has ever seen and I will go down in glory and fame for being one of the ones who knew it first?
Yes. Mr. Lewandowski. I sincerely feel your pain. You have a secret that you want the world to know and there are so many deaf ears that cannot, will not hear that your man Donald has the goods. At this point, I know that you know exactly what you are doing. Someone has to do it and you have the fire in your belly so you must.
But can we sit for a moment Corey? Just to chat? I’d love to hear more about your work and I have a few questions for you.
What do you think? Where do you fit into the picture? What is your role in this wild ride? And did I ask, what do you think?
In what way have you failed Donald Trump? Tell me more. I sincerely want to know.
Hmm...why do you call that failure when most would consider it an honest mistake?
I make mistakes all the time and let me tell you a secret: when I was with Doug, I believed that I was failing him all the time - I believed that I was a disgrace to the amazing, unchartered waters that he was rising through, like a new star. I was tarnishing his shine and I worked my ass off to correct that and occasionally I tasted the glory of his extraordinary manna.
But, I have to tell you Corey, that actually, his manna didn’t nourish me. I would eat it but the darn bread took my vision. I couldn’t see it was actually sustaining HIM - not me! AND I was paying for this manna. I was paying to feed HIM!
Forgive me, perhaps I stepped over a line. It’s my story man. Not yours. Let’s get back to yours.
Indeed, let’s let Trump be Trump. And Corey be Corey. And Gerette be Gerette.
I feel your pain, Corey Lewandowski.
Yes. For years I believed I had failed Doug. I could not keep pace with his brilliance. But I kept trying and trying and mostly, I failed him.
It is the failing that keeps the striving going. And it is the striving that engines the entire cult ship. What we are striving for is always just beyond reach, keeping us in our place, provoking humility and self-flagellation. In failing, a pecking order is established and reinforced again and again. It is the failing that births the need for the killer. Be tough on me. I can take it. I want it. I want to feel the blood in my mouth from your hit because then I know that I am alive. Bring it on. Be tough on me!
Yeah. Be tough Donald. Oh yeah. I want a killer for a president. Be tough on the world. Be tough on the bullshit of the world. You know the truth about Jerusalem and you’ve got the guts to say what you know and let the cards fall where they may. I trust your brilliance. Yup. Donald and Doug are two peas in a brilliance pod.
Never quite able to put your finger on what exactly was happening.
But never let on that you didn’t know.
It was a feeling thing.
An energetic swoosh that would ripple through the room when he walked in, carrying a coffee cup. The chatting quieted. When he stopped to talk with someone, anyone - didn’t matter who, all eyes were casually not on him. But we all wondered and wished that we could be so lucky.
Do you let yourself think this Corey? That this man is the greatest ride the world has ever seen and I will go down in glory and fame for being one of the ones who knew it first?
Yes. Mr. Lewandowski. I sincerely feel your pain. You have a secret that you want the world to know and there are so many deaf ears that cannot, will not hear that your man Donald has the goods. At this point, I know that you know exactly what you are doing. Someone has to do it and you have the fire in your belly so you must.
But can we sit for a moment Corey? Just to chat? I’d love to hear more about your work and I have a few questions for you.
What do you think? Where do you fit into the picture? What is your role in this wild ride? And did I ask, what do you think?
In what way have you failed Donald Trump? Tell me more. I sincerely want to know.
Hmm...why do you call that failure when most would consider it an honest mistake?
I make mistakes all the time and let me tell you a secret: when I was with Doug, I believed that I was failing him all the time - I believed that I was a disgrace to the amazing, unchartered waters that he was rising through, like a new star. I was tarnishing his shine and I worked my ass off to correct that and occasionally I tasted the glory of his extraordinary manna.
But, I have to tell you Corey, that actually, his manna didn’t nourish me. I would eat it but the darn bread took my vision. I couldn’t see it was actually sustaining HIM - not me! AND I was paying for this manna. I was paying to feed HIM!
Forgive me, perhaps I stepped over a line. It’s my story man. Not yours. Let’s get back to yours.
Indeed, let’s let Trump be Trump. And Corey be Corey. And Gerette be Gerette.
RSS Feed
