Baby Trump Theatre
After the 2017 white supremacist marches in Charlottesville, VA, I began writing a series of short, absurd pieces as a catharsis. Charlottesville was a first test for a new president who lost the popular vote by some 3 million.
At that time, I couldn’t believe my eyes: what kind of a leader/human could respond to the events of Charlottesville in the way this president did?
Also, how a person of his character, on full display in 2016 and decades prior, could even rise to represent and be supported by members of a USA political party!
My creative response to these events took on the form of the piece below. I stashed it away and I hoped for better times.
*** DISCLAIMER: I stashed it away also because it seemed “edgy”, maybe too much so. Please don’t read if easily offended. ***
Almost 3 years later, with mounting crises, it’s all hands on deck. What can be done...this guy and his family have got to go?
Today, on release of Trump family tell-all, my own little Two Act below reads less absurd and almost documentary, a possible transcription of actual events.
So I post it here now as a raw, personal, verbal (and visual) response to the 2017-2020 US of Absurdia. In 2020, this admin and enablers seem increasingly the outgrowth of a first family of dysfunction. We need a landslide to oust them from power.
NB I wrote “Baby Trump Theatre” a year before this famous balloon, but the intent seems similar enough: caricature and satire.
Baby Trump Theatre.
Act I
1947. Queens, NY.
Father: I want this boy to eat. Why won’t my son eat? Loser.
Mother: I don’t know. You try you’re so great.
F: (takes silver spoon of oats). I like hearing that. OK. Chew chew chew, Donnie. Downtown train to Pennsylvania station. Open up. All aboard.
Darling Boy: (from high chair). Waaaaaaahhhaaaawaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
F: That’s all this boy does is cry cry cry. What did you do to him, Mother?
M: I will tell you what I did. I lied there for you with your stubby fingers. I carried him 9 months. I pushed…for what seemed like a lifetime…pushed him out of my…
F: Yes, Mother….I love your…(growing more aggressive and orange). Out of your….Say it….
M: (crying softly now). A boo hoo hoo.
D: (wailing) Waaaaaaaahhhaaaaaa!!!!
M: Youre upsetting the…
F: Pussy. Mother. Pussy. The word is…
D: (suddenly stops crying). Pooo-see.
(Parents grab eachother in pride and surprise)
F and M: What did you say, Donnie? Your first w…his first word, your first word!
D: (now laughing). Pooo-see. Pooo-see.
(Parents shower him in kisses).
F: (scooping heaping spoonful of oats): Donnie. Yes. Pussy. (Father feeds Donnie’s open mouth). Yum yum Donnie. Yum yum.
F and M: That’s a good boy.
(Lights fade to black for 5 seconds. Lights fade up to later that night at same dinner table. )
F: (reading evening sports pages): Damn Branch Rickey. Tsk tsk. Sad. Comes by the office today….and who is with him?....Thats right. Dodgers manager Clyde Sukey Sukeforth. And not just him. Tom Greenwade too. They says to me, (grandly) “The future is Robinsons”.
Donnie: (from high chair) Waaaaaaaaaaahhhhhaaaaaaa
F: Just what I was thinking, Donnie. They ask me to help; house their families for a discount.
Donnie: Waaaaaaaaaaaahaaaa!
F: That’s right Donnie. Don’t let them in or they will never go. Remember that.
D: (Remembers that. And continues crying, even louder than before). Waaaaaaahhhhhhaaa.
M: Then what?
(Stage left dining room dims. Donnie’s cries dim. Fade up stage right onto Trump Corp Office, c. 1947. Father walks over to join Dodgers staff in conversation….)
F: Gentlemen. I was a Dodgers man. Now Im a Yankees fan. There’s one reason.
Branch Rickey: Better hot dogs? (all laugh)
Tom Greenwade: Look at the paper. 17 September. Yesterday. Jackie’s 2 for 3. A home run. A double. They walked him intentionally too. He’s the real deal. We are developing talent. Who can whack the ball and catch the ball. That’s our business. L We need safe houses…you know that’s hard to find. You wont reconsider?
F: (long pause). You gave them the chance. That’s the problem. Gentlemen, the secretary I’m having an affair with will show you the door.
(Exeunt. Lights dim on Trump Corp office.)
F: See you in the Series, Dodger blacks.
(Fred returns to dining table. Lights fade up and Donnie wails audibly).
M: Pussy, Donnie (Donnie quiets). Why did you have to teach him that word, Father. It smacks of a cheap attempt to make the audience laugh uncomfortably.
F: (angry). Mother, that there’s a million dollar word. I work hard to use that word. It’s a golden word. I have money and respect and one might say celebrity so I can use that word. So will your son!!
(Father picks up Donnie, exits room).
Mother: (Picking up dishes, voice breaking, tearing up, sings to the audience): Did you see….Jackie Robinson hit that ball…he stole home.
(Donnie cries from another room. Music cue: Count Basie’s tune on house speakers. Lights fade down to black).
Curtain. End Act I
Act II
(Interior. Donnie’s Nursery. 20 minutes later. Decorations on wall: White stork. White clouds. White ice cream cone. White man dressed in white ice cream vendor uniform. All against baby blue background. White crib on round white rug.)
(Chest of drawers with objects on top: Cigar box of photos; Large glass and bottle of whisky; An amorphous white object.)
(Father holds and rocks baby Donnie, swaddled in white. )
Mother enters, pauses at door and wipes away a tear so not to be seen crying.
(Father feels her presence.)
F: Mother. Remember.
M: Showing Donnie your memory box again?
F: Nothing soothes like 1927. The Babe. The wins. (Slide of Babe Ruth projected large on wall behind. Fred holds up cigarette card to Donnie’s face). The Wizard and the goddam press (Slide of New York newspaper headline: “7 Arrested in Rally”).
M: That scotch?
F: Yes it is. A great year. Great place. One of the Greatest. Remember Donnie. Stick with the best. That I can tell you. That is your heritage.
M: Dear. Your meeting? You’ll be late. Give me Donnie.
(The 2 unswaddle baby Donnie. Father holds up the swaddling material to his shoulders. The material is the length of his body. )
F: Still fits!
(Father takes last sip from glass. Mother playfully takes amorphous white object off the chest. Mother places the large white object on Father’s head. It is a Klansman hat).
Mother: Yes, it still fits. Yes it does.
(Father kisses Mother and exits).
M: (Singing). Bah bah black sheep have you any wool yessir yessir three bags full.
Curtain
