Name-Changer Gets the Boot from JFK Memorial Center - Part Two

It is quite certain that a hopelessly egomaniacal and politically narcissistic President Donald John Trump had absolutely no remarkable inkling of the larger-than-life image, personality and the incalculable global significance of the fittingly Immortalized President John Fitzgerald Kennedy in both our time, generation and age and well before; else this veritable moral and intellectual pygmy would not have so crudely and cavalierly presumed to rub shoulders with the tragically slain Civil and Human Rights Giant, much less blasphemously and sacrilegiously attempt to dishonor and desecrate his memory and stature by so inexcusably and unpardonably blotching up his name by heretically suffixing it to that of America’s most despised and resented Presidents in the entire Two-and-Half Centuries of Postcolonial United States of America.

It is almost certain that the 80-year-old and, by several accounts, cognitively diapered Mr. Trump had grossly confused his obscene and utterly vulgar and unspeakably grubby acquisition of moolah, as my two late-teen sons prefer to jovially call it, with the diligent and the culturally refined and rarefied attainment of Upper-Class status and manners. You see, the veritable and the unvarnished fact of the matter is that the Half-Bavarian (German) and Half-Scottish-Descended issue of Working-Class and nouveau-riche parents has more than enough wealth to easily place him among the wealthiest of America’s Aristocracy, except for the equally unvarnished and limpidly unarguable fact that in terms of domestic upbringing or the sort of well-cultivated temperament that is routinely associated with the Traditional Aristocracy, the twice nonconsecutively elected 45th and 47th President of the United States of America woefully lacks the pertinent hallmarks of the class and the culture in which he avidly craves to be reckoned among.

As the jaded, old Shakespearean adage goes: “Some are born rich; others achieve richness by the dint of impeccable diligence; still, others simply have indescribable riches thrust upon them.” It is quite clear, from several of the biographical sources on the man, that The Donald, as he was widely known and flatteringly called, prior to his indescribably odd and inscrutably bizarre accession to the Presidency, in the shady world of the New York City business community, for the most party, the burly and the rhetorically brusque and self-proclaimed maven of Mafia literature or political numeracy - at least vis-a-vis the recent widely believed politically motivated criminal indictment of former Director of the United States’ Federal Bureau of Investigations, Mr. James Comey, on the dubious grounds that a social media post of some seashells that Mr. Comey allegedly chanced upon at the beach, somewhere in the Washington, DC and the Virginia-Maryland vicinity, that had reportedly been arranged to read the numbers “87 47” and found to be curiously interesting enough to capture his attention and to apparently bring the same to the attention of the general American public, or at least his followers on the web, one supposes - was, somehow, meant or intended to target and/or deliberately mark down America’s 47th President for a rubout or summary assassination.

As to why Mr. Comey would find President Trump to be an especially inviting target for a shooting practice, a rubout or a clean-cut assassination was never explicitly or forensically credibly explained, except for the widely known fact that Mr. Trump is widely known to envisage the former FBI Director to be smack among his most ardent detractors, if not his surefire as hell implaccable enemies.

At any rate, as already hinted earlier on, had Mr. Trump carefully pondered the matter of so unscrupulously attempting to rub shoulders, petulantly and cavalierly, with the tragically slain President who was more than old enough to have been his own father even at the time of his death, on December 22, 1963, when the recently turned 80-year-old Mr. Trump was scarcely 17 years old, this Uppity Half-German and Half-Scottish Urchin or Barroom Rascal would not have so lamely and recklessly allowed himself to be literally led by the nose by the sycophantic handpicked Members of the Board-of-Directors of The John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts, to so rudely and reprehensibly desecrate the memory of the Heroic Veteran of World War II, which the Vietnam War Draft-Dodger’s own father, Mr. Frederick Christ (pronounced Krist) Trump (b 1905), is not known to have served in on behalf of his country as an American-born second-generation member of the Trump Family and/or Clan.

But at least unlike his insufferably snooty and boastful son, Donald John, Mr. Frederick Christ Trump is known to have made quite a “Muskian” bundle of lucre in the real-estate business, building dozens of military barracks and houses for US Navy Personnel and Contractual Defense Workers. Which means, of course, that whichever way one looks at The John F. Kennedy Memorial Center’s Trumpian Epic Faux-Pas, the picture does not look any remarkably kosher for a President who has brazenly made patriotism and military service and unimpeachable civic responsibility the benchmark for who best qualifies to be regarded as a bona fide “First-Class Citizen” of the United States of America.

By Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr., PhD
Professor Emeritus, Department of English
SUNY-Nassau Community College
Garden City, New York
E-mail: okoampaahoofekwame@gmail.com

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