May the Chair grant me a moment of personal privilege?
You know, I’d like to like exotic fish dishes and French cuisine; I really would. (Doesn’t it make you feel classy to say words like, “Vichyssoise”?) I just don’t. I like hot dogs with ketchup, steak, pizza, Wisconsin fish fries, and scrambled eggs with bacon (crispy) and hash browns (well done). I just do.
In fact, I seemingly mostly like the food that President Donald Trump is reported to like.
That said, I don’t see a need to rename New York City’s Le Bernardin, “IHOP Bernardin,” or Chicago’s Le Bouchon, “McDonald’s Bouchon.”
You know, I’d like to have a broader taste in music. I’d like to like opera. I just don’t – they’re literally not speaking my language. I’d like to like classical music – I even put it on for a while, while I exercised, thinking it would grow on me – but it didn’t and I don’t. I know millions of Americans like country music; I don’t like twang, and don’t get excited about the fact that you hankered to be a cowboy, your woman left you, your truck broke down, and your dog died. I don’t like rap music, and am pretty sure that I wouldn’t be that moved by your message even if I could make out a single word of you’re saying. I’m a Beatles Baby Boomer. I like soft rock, Muzak, and now in my later years – wait for it – Frank and Tony Bennett. I just do.
That doesn’t mean that I see a need to rename the Metropolitan Opera House, “The Metropolitan Easy Listenin’ Opera House,” or The Grand Ole Opry, “The Deuter Grand Ole Opry,” or Rapper Jay-Z’s 40/40 Club – I bet you’re impressed I have even heard of Jay-Z – “Sinatra’s 40/40.”
You know where I’m going with this. Although there are occasions for formal dress and for cargo pants, they don’t belong together. “The Donald Trump and The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts”? Putting aside the fact that there are too many “The’s” there, you’ve got to know your place, man. Even I know that you don’t dump ketchup on fine French cuisine.
Mr. Trump continues to revert. He has spent his entire adult life putting his name on buildings, seemingly thinking it will bring him immortality — that it’ll mean that we’ll have to remember him when he’s gone — that he won’t simply … disappear. This fear, this preservation instinct, is arguably becoming more acute as he manifestly physically degrades and his popularity plummets.
I’ve obviously just taken your time not with a matter of personal privilege, but rather of personal pique, clearly not even remotely related to the areas in which the President poses a true threat to our democracy and those around the world. Even so, Mr. Trump either doesn’t realize – or more likely, refuses to admit to himself – that if our American way of life survives his presidency, before the end of the next President’s first month in office, his name will be stricken from all federal buildings, as were those of the discredited Pharaohs of ancient Egypt.
McCoy's Noise 