Donald Trump's Hair
Depending on how well and how long I've slept the previous night, the first hour of the morning can be filled with strange hallucinatory bits where I try to re-engage my brain. There's about a half hour of concentrated ritualistic behavior that occurs shortly after I get up and most of it has become a rote process which I can -- for the most part -- accomplish half-asleep. So, while the espresso machine is warming up and I'm making breakfast, the remainder of the night drains away from my head and I can finally think more clearly.
But that half hour of drainage can result in random excursions down strange mental corridors. This morning, for instance, I discovered the secret to Donald Trump's hair. I'll tell you the secret: he knows.
Mr. Trump's been on TV a lot recently, stumping for his new job as the Jeff Probst of the City. His involvement in Mark Burnett's urban Survivor series is a cunning marketing/branding move. Every week, Trump gets to showcase another facet of how deeply entrenched he is in New York City. Naturally, my view of NYC is skewed by what I am shown on the TV which is entirely the point. I'm supposed to not be able to distingush a difference between Donald Trump and New York City -- these two things are meant to be inextricably linked in my head.
And the clever catch phrase which sums up the Apprentice process: "You're fired." Probst has "the tribe has spoken" which, after nine years, has netted him nothing on the cultural landscape. Trump, after four weeks, has inserted the viper strike hand motion and those two words into the memosphere. Melissa and I have been firing each other over all manner of petty transgressions these last few weeks.
Okay, but Trump's hair. Since The Apprentice has been running, every comedian and media gadfly has had their chance to take a shot at Trump about his hair. It's an easy target, good for a quick laugh. What occurs to me this morning is that Trump isn't so vain that he's oblivious to the commentary, he actually welcomes it. Why? Because it makes him fallible, it makes him human, and therefore less threatening.
In our commerce driven society, a perfectly realized billionaire is the equivalent of the divine king of old religion driven cultures. He is not one of us; he is separate, magical, distinct, a creature to be revered and feared. A billionaire with dodgy hair is a human being who just got lucky. In some ways, he optimizes the capitalist ideal: anyone can re-make themselves into anything they desire by the application of their focused Will. You too can be Donald Trump if you want it badly enough or try hard enough.
The hair is part of the PLAN. It allows him to choose the manner in which he will be ridiculed by the jesters of our society. It allows him to pre-influence our dialogue about him when he is not in our presence. It puts us at ease. We open the door to him more readily, not realizing that we're inviting the wolf into the sheep pen.
Yeah, I'm onto him. I've seen through his cunning disguise. It only looks like I'm a shambling idiot at 5.00am in the kitchen. That's my cunning disguise.