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OPINION: So Christmas is here, and as Melania Trump will go down in history for saying, “Who cares a …?” about that. Easy for those with servants and sycophants to be indifferent, less so for those who have to cook.
A universal Christmas gift that I am grateful for this year is the gift of not feeling more sorry for Melania, the captive Beauty of a Beast. Now we can assume that he agrees with Trump’s bad words and is as cold as it sounds.
I wanted to think better of her. Even after the “I don’t care” jacket he wore to visit one of the epicenters of Trump’s family separation. Even after videotaping her furious that the children ripped from their parents on the Mexican border were delighted to have the luxurious accommodations in their cages.
Evidently, he did not imagine that even poor people and their children could genuinely love each other.
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The last act of the Donald Trump drama is a gift that keeps giving. So many twists and turns in the final plot, so many ups and downs, so many schematics, so many Shakespearean soliloquies, and such a blizzard on Twitter.
How does Melania put up with the nuts who have her husband’s ear, the nuts and criminals, the enemies of democracy, the humiliating, the horrible Kushners, but especially her husband?
What about the defectors, formerly heinous lackeys of Trump, now jumping overboard? Will they be able to regain the credibility that they so gleefully put aside for a shred of power?
What’s the message behind this year’s official annual portrait of the Trumps together, both in tuxedos, hers in stilettos, his in PhotoShop? Will she ever run away to claim the prenup before her creditors go on strike, or will she sit still when he becomes more and more convinced she was robbed and refuses to repay his famous $ 330 million loan in the next years? Risk too great. I’d cut and run.
The Deutsche Bank senior banker who loaned Trump the big money just resigned, prompting more exits as the bank investigates how he came to have so much risk exposure. The loans are due in 2023 and 2024 when, if Trump had actually won the election, he would be president again and could procrastinate.
Have we been watching an American tragedy played out to laugh, or an American comedy turned into tragedy? At least it drew attention that otherwise would have focused on the sinister pandemic. It has been a year in which I feel like an easy duck waiting for a bullet.
But more specifically, what about Christmas and cooking, the slow anxiety of producing something that everyone will eat with pleasure? That has been my personal sub-Trump drama.
This year I had a brilliant idea, always dangerous. I was going to cook something interesting and Italian that I had never cooked before. I bought the special ingredients and was satisfied with myself, and then the inevitable doubt arose. What if they hated it? What was I thinking? After all this time, don’t I know better?
And they wonder why cooks are famous for their temperament. Naturally, I abandoned the creative and interesting plan and settled for the old familiar. It’s not like I make brilliant roast chicken. I do not. But at least I’m not giving them turkey.
I guess Trump will be happy with half a dozen hamburgers and fries, and Melania will only need half a pickle. I took the virtual tour of the White House Christmas decorations, which make it look like a funeral home. An appropriate touch, in light of the number of Americans who have died of Covid.