08:46am Three days after PG got elected
I don’t think we are the only ones in shock . If you look at the pictures of the Pussy Grabber meeting Obama for the first time you can see that he is too. He does not smile and his eyes are dead – just sunk right back into puffy folds of skin.
At 70 years old, against Obama’s 55, the PG does not come off very well. To use his benchmark, I would put him as a 4 (the wealth is worth a 2) whereas Obama, after eight years in office, is still very much a 10. Probably the most handsome President ever, he also glows with energy and enthusiasm. A man who could right now play a game of basketball or go for a 5 mile run without thinking anything of it. Whereas the PG looks like he’d have trouble climbing into a golf cart, let alone drive it round eighteen holes.
And it’s not about the age. It’s the journey. If you know that you have clawed your way to the top by stamping on others, there is no joy in victory. No matter how much people pat you on the back and shake your hand, you know yourself that they despise you and would leave you to the wolves if they could.
The PG must know that when he looks in the mirror, he is the only one who likes what he sees. An ugly character produces an ugly face with dead eyes and a tight mouth.
And compare the Pussy Grabber to another man who became President at an old age – all be it four years younger than the PG is right now. Nelson Mandela was 66 years old when he became President of South Africa after spending 27 years in prison on Robben Island.
If I close my eyes, I can see Mandela’s face, with eyes sparkling in triumph that at last a new day had dawned. That after so many years thinking the impossible, he had got what he had hoped for. He had strength and vigour that would take him forward to meet the challenges of the office in a way that brought him love and respect around the world. His eyes never lost their sparkle, he knew how far he had come and he was grateful.
Now I close my eyes and think of the PG and I just see dead eyes in a face dropped with exhaustion and a brain barely ticking over.
Could it be that he realises, especially after meeting such a class act as Obama, that he really isn’t up to this?
Could it be because he knows that, unlike Mandela or Obama, his success comes unworked for, undeserved, out of a dark place?
Could it be that a man who has only served himself having got his start in life from the riches of his father, realises that public office is not so much about what he wants but more about the good of the many?
Could it be that he’s seen the accommodation, the windows that don’t open, the list of day to day things he’ll be expected to do and he’s realised just what a ‘public servant’ is?
Or could it be that he’s just getting old and tired and should really have been planning a move to Florida rather than Washington DC?
It’s all in the eyes and his are dead.
Julia Notaro 