Take Him Out Of the Ballgame

On Saturday, I posted a rather cynical post entitled “Ain’t Nothing Gonna Happen”.

 

At the heart of that post was that no matter how much damning information is accumulated during the impeachment inquiry, Donald Trump would likely skate by unscathed.

 

Republicans in the House and the Senate are not scared of Li’l Donnie. They are scared of the folks back home, devoted followers of Donald Trump who remain committed to this man with an almost cult-like intensity.

 

One sees Li’l Donnie at his rallies with his circle-jerk gathering of supporters, smiling and applauding every inane thing Trump says and you can’t help but think that in spite of the overwhelming evidence of our eyes and ears that undeniably demonstrates his lack of intelligence, skill or even human empathy, Trump still retains a large and enthusiastic base of support.

 

In the face of all that, it’s hard not to believe that ain’t nothing gonna happen.

 

Then Donald Trump decided to attend a baseball game. Specifically, Game 5 of the World Series between the Houston Astros and the Washington Nationals. 

 

What happens when Li’l Donnie gets in front of a real crowd and not a vetted crowd of cheering cultists and sniveling sycophants?

 

He gets booed, that’s what.

 

When Donald Trump’s big fleshy face was flashed up on the jumbotron, a mighty roar rose up as thousands of voices joined together in a chorus of boos.

 

Interspersed with the boos were some chants of “Lock him up!”

 

Man, irony is a cruel bitch, huh?

 

Maybe, just maybe, the Republicans in the House and the Senate will take this incident to heart and realize that the cheering crowds at Trump rallies do not represent all the folks back home.

 

This is what happens when Donald Trump is forced to face up to the real world and not a stage managed rally calculated to appeal to his ego. 

 

My cynicism not completely erased. With jerrymandered districts back home, the Republicans in the House and the Senate are facing their own stage managed crowds, insulated from a larger reality. Ultimately, I can’t completely let go of the idea that ain’t nothing gonna happen.

 

But in the roar of the crowd at the World Series game Sunday night, there was a brief spark of hope, that maybe, just maybe, something is gonna happen.