Ah, the comforts of life: President Trump is the worst president we have ever had. The tax-reform bill is the worst bill that has ever wormed its way through Congress. Nancy Pelosi calls it Armageddon. These laments are music to my ears. Trump recognizes Jerusalem as Israel’s capital. Prepare for the end of the world. […]
Ah, the comforts of life: President Trump is the worst president we have ever had. The tax-reform bill is the worst bill that has ever wormed its way through Congress. Nancy Pelosi calls it Armageddon. These laments are music to my ears.
Trump recognizes Jerusalem as Israel’s capital. Prepare for the end of the world. This is soothing news. The country and the world are streaking toward hell. So quickly that the handbaskets cannot keep up. I love it.
You see, I love traditions. Like Thanksgiving and Christmas carols. Like Fourth of July parades. And Memorial Day speeches. And Exaggeration. I capitalize that word out of reverence.
We honor the ancient Greeks for their philosophers and their architecture. We remember the ancient Romans for their empire. I bet centuries from now people will remember the American Dynasty for its exaggeration. We will be known as the all-time Masters of Exaggeration.
Think about it. Folks 70-years old have suffered through several of the worst presidents ever. Name a president. Then go back and read the criticisms of him when he was in office. That phrase “worst president ever” will pop up for each one.
If I live long enough to have a president who is not the “worst ever,” I’ll know it’s time to fall off the twig.
Generations have been whacked with the “worst bills ever written.” And they have witnessed the country going to hell. Let’s face it. We’re always going to hell. It’s tradition
I was in London a few weeks ago when the new budget appeared before Parliament. How did the Brits respond? The critics? They tut-tutted. Had another cup of tea and murmured that it was unfair to the working man and women. Said it had its priorities wrong.
Here we introduce a tax reform bill to Congress. And we get “Welcome to Armageddon. Old folks will die. Corpses of babes will be stacked like cordwood.”
Do you get my drift? I don’t exaggerate when I say we exaggerate.
In other countries when university kids have a complaint they complain. Here they swoon. Universities now have special ambulances. To cart snowflakes to emergency safe spots furnished with fainting couches.
Exaggeration, it’s in our blood. Wait, I can do better. “It courses through our veins.” Wait. How about: “It explodes within our DNA.” That’s more like it.
Do you want more evidence? Other countries stage a championship game. We boast a World Series. British soccer has a division final. Our NFL has the Super Bowl.
We are a nation of drama queens. Speaking of queens, the Queen of England hands out medals every year — with prestigious names like The Order of the Queen’s Corgis. The honorees get to wear medallions and ribbons and add initials after their names. We could have our president hand out the OTT Awards. For the most “Over The Top” performances. The medal would be six inches across with flashing lights.
Meanwhile, you and I could make a few bucks. We could create a website for exaggeration. The equivalent of a Thesaurus for Hyperbole. People would turn to it for assistance with exaggeration. You want to say in your remarks to Rotarians that the city needs to upgrade the water system? Our site — called Hyperbole-ocity — would suggest you say, “Children will die from pollution!”
I like it. Hyperbole-ocity. Our slogan could be “Armageddon.” That is if Nancy Pelosi hasn’t had that trademarked yet.
Tom Morgan writes about political, financial, and other subjects from his home near Oneonta. You can write to Tom at tomasinmorgan@yahoo.com. You can read more of his writing at tomasinmorgan.com