Playing The Trump Card

Does anyone really think that The Donald has a chance in the presidential race? I gotta give the guy kudos though. He's got balls...He's for sure blunt, rough and no nonsense. The crap that comes out of his mouth is unbelievable but he says it like he thinks he sees it. And that's really the problem here-it's Donald's world and we just live in it according to him. Don't get me wrong-I like Trump. I think he's a likable character-and that's exactly what he is-a character.

But this time the stakes are high. Probably the highest he's ever had to endure and I'm not sure the world is ready for Donald to be in charge of us all. His recent comments about Mexico have illustrated that running the country is all together different than running a company. Like he can't just fire Greece-as much as he'd like to-and you certainly can't run a campaign that's based on bashing Mexico and a building a wall. You just can't fire Russia and the Middle East, that's not the way it works but I'm not sure Mr. Trump understands that.

What he will understand is the fallout of his thoughtless outbursts. NBC, Univision and now Macy's are all cutting ties with Trump. Do you think he's kicking himself for putting his foot in his mouth? I think not. I imagine Donald Trump loves being in the press regardless of whether it's for good or bad. A consummate showman, he probably believes he coined the phrase, "There is no such thing as bad publicity". But this isn't his boardroom anymore. This is a global boardroom and Trump doesn't get to make the rules. I doubt he would survive in an environment that he can't control completely.

I get why he's running though.

Trump thinks the world is based on "The Art of The Deal", and since he wrote the book, quite literally, his ego must lead him to conclude that he could be the Commander in Chief of the US simply because he never met a deal he couldn't manipulate to his advantage. At 69, Trump probably believes it's now or never and why not him? He's got the money, resources and time to make a run at it but that's about all it's going to be. A run-and at the rate he's going at today it's going to be over before it even started.

Yes Mr. Trump, this is the country of opportunity and if you want to run for President you have the freedom to do so! What you can't do is shoot your mouth off and make derogatory public statements about others without pissing off a nation. This time you aren't dealing with the likes of a Rosie O'Donnell that you can publicly shame and bully. It's not like you can tweet at Putin that he's a fat loser without becoming the biggest loser yourself.

This ain't no reality show, it's reality.

Squeezing The Juice

My friend Chris over at Knucklehead invited bloggers to join his, "Knuckleheads Blog-Off" 2011 a while back, and I decided to join in. Chris is an amazing writer with an amazing writing style and a whiz with detail, so I am stoked to have the opportunity to represent in his contest...even if he is a Jets fan. (BRING IT)

So, having said that, this is my entry for the Knuckleheads Blog-Off 2011 where the Round one topic is, "A Childhood Story".

This contest runs through Sunday, Jan 9th, 2011 to Wednesday night, and voting takes place on Knuckleheads blog. Results will be posted on Thursday morning, along with a new category.

Lets just say I hope I get the chance to go with a new topic. So vote for me bloggers, if you like my story....

HERE

I grew up in the seventies. The youngest of five, my two sisters arriving first in the birth order, then my two brothers, my mom says a girl was a welcome addition to the brood. Since my sisters were already grown and gone when I reached my younger, formative years, my brothers became my closest playmates and as such, their world became mine. Safe to say that sports was at their epi-center. Cute, and pony tailed, if I wanted to hang with the boys, I had no choice but to become malleable and go with THEIR flow. I knew no other way and I lived to hang with them and do what they were doing. My brother, closest to me in age, was five years older and since I came into the picture, he made it his job to terrorize and torture me. To him this was almost better than anything, making his baby sister perform at his whim, and like a trained seal, I complied with his every command.

If we were playing hide and go seek, he would grab me for his team, hide me in the toughest of places, vowing I would never be found by our opponent, and then leave me there.... For what seemed like an eternity.... Eventually I would find my way out of the middle shelf of the closet, covered by the bath towels and perspiration and seek him out. Crying and angry, I played the only card I had in my deck of one. "I'm telling mom." It was like a magic "be mean to your sister" antidote and my brother would then turn on the charm and vow to never do it again.....until the next time I trusted him. Which usually wasn't very long after.

One of the games we used to play together he called, "The Juice", which is ironic because he killed me every time we played it. "You are The Juice, and I am the defensive line," he would say coyly. "You have the ball and you have to get through ME to score a touchdown and win the game." And I bought it, hook, line and sinker. I couldn't believe my good fortune! I get to be the star running back and win the game. I figured it wouldn't be too hard as I had seen it happen lots of times on TV, and my brother was playing with JUST me. What luck!

I'm sure I don't need to tell you that The Juice got knocked down more than a Mike Tyson opponent during his championship years, but I always got up and went back for more, ever unsure of whether or not I liked this particular game. I never let on and I continued to play this game for years, bruised and battered, never utilizing my Ace in the hole when mom asked where the bruises came from. Looking back, I really have to thank my brother. Not only does my love of sports supersede every other girl I came in contact with, but this little game we played every so often made me tough as nails. Although I never knew it until years later.

Flash forward, we are now in our twenties, and although much more mature, the big brother power he held still reigned. I'm not quite sure what we were arguing about or why, it seemed to be something having to do with Ramen Noodle soup and the microwave, but that detail is not important. What I remember clear as day, is the sheer terror of my brothers anger, directed at me and my running away from his clenched fist in the heat of the argument. By that time we had moved from the sprawling home of my formative years, one that housed five children, to a smaller more modern home with much less running room.

My brother chased me and had me cornered in our tiny bathroom downstairs and he looked to me like Ferdinand the bull, steam escaping from his flared nostrils. I had painted myself into a corner and I knew one thing for certain....I was gonna die if I didn't think fast. With no where to go, trapped like a rat, as they say, I turned around and clocked my brother square in the chin with MY clenched fist. The sound of imaginary bells began ringing in my head. I think my brother's eyes turned into two black x's and I might have even seen a tweedy bird or two fly around his head, but the chase stopped right there and so did my brother's reign as dictator.

The Juice was no longer ripe for the squeezing, and my brother and I ate the Ramen Noodle soup in silence. I think we both learned a valuable lesson that night. With every teacher/student relationship, eventually the student becomes the teacher. I don't think my brother has ever looked at a glass of orange juice with the same confidence again.