The sun has set. Your room has grown dark and is dimly lit by the bedside lamp as you crawl in under the covers and pull them up to your chin. You are five years old and your mum or dad sits beside you on the bed and opens your favourite book. The part of the day you waited for the most. It’s time for a story.
It is the traits of cheating, bullying, insincerity and greed (the recent Australian Banking Royal Commission is just one stark and sobering example) that show up our society and its leaders who follow these traits as somewhat lacking in empathy for others. Somewhat psychopathic.
I woke up and told myself. I’m going to do this. I’m going to sit down. I’m going to learn what it takes to have a great website. I’m going to learn how to create great social media. Learn what it takes to hone my skills as an MC. Publish great content that can sell my skills as an artist, an entertainer. Every single day, I wrote out a list of what I needed to do. I’d probably get shot down. I would struggle. I would no doubt come up against another wall that would knock me down, but I kept getting up. I kept taking one small step forward every chance I could get and I could see myself turning my friend’s idea into a reality.
No doubt Trump’s own zealotry and self-idolatry would shelter his ego from harm, for even a seven-year-old primary school student would cringe at the redundancy and inaneness of his attempt at a logical thought process in pursuit of his own brand of Twitteroracy.