My Little Trump Tower

I was listening at TTB.org today, and catching up on yesterday's content.

Politics is making the rounds of casual conversation, since we are in debate season.  Two colleagues had actually listened to all that blather recently, or wanted to, but I can't watch it.  It makes me ill to hear people talk so much and say so little.  I can't stand being told that someone cares for our country when it's so obvious that they only care about themselves.  And last night I actually dreamed of Trump.  He wasn't in my dream, but I was so excited to go to his house.

In my dream, we received invitations to see the house that I've wanted to see since childhood, and there was an image of it on the envelopes and the invitation inside.  And in indisputable dream logic, I knew that if we returned our responses and accepted the invites we'd get back some golden ones, to keep as keepsakes forever and ever, and then be able to see the mansion itself.

We walked through the front door, and were shown in and ushered off to the left to see what we were told was Trump's room.  I was vaguely interested to see how he lived; much more interested in the mansion itself, and walked around what was actually his three-room suite which was so ordinary it could have been part of a duplex or motel room.  Everything was freshly painted grey or beige and looked as spartan and antiseptic as a mid-grade apartment a Realtor is showing you while smiling wanly.

Growing up across from Palm Beach, we would drive along the beach and look at the water on one side and the Mar-a-Lago tower and gates on the other.  Sometimes the gates were open, but I never got a good look at the house and I've also wanted to always see inside, and go up inside the tower and look out over the grounds and the ocean.

I've seen images of inside but only the gates and the tower show very well from the road.  I always liked the idea that up off the ground there are two statues of men pulling the gates open, and I wanted to see if they moved when the gates closed.  They were an interesting version of those ridiculous lawn jockeys that other poorer people used to mark their entrances.

When Trump bought it, I was a little surprised, because the home represented to me old money, and I didn't think of him in that way, but as nouveau riche; even though he, Saddam Hussein and Marjorie Merriweather Post could have shared a decorator.  But in the land of sound bytes, 30 years ago is old so he might be seen even as olde money now; having been rich for decades.

People see Trump as an outsider.  But I don't.  Politics and media and tv and everybody following make up a system in which he is a character.  But so are all the politicians.  Having been gone for years, J. Vernon said that the media brainwashes, whether it was behind the Iron Curtain or not.  "If you look at Washington today, you'll feel like giving up, or throwing up."  Boy do I ever.  I wonder what McGee would say today.

"I don't know about you, but I'm tired of the panel discussions of politicians, educators, military and athletes and the movie colony.  I don't think they have any message for us right now.  Perhaps you can hear the still small voice of God."

The problem with Christians is that they are confused when the laws of the land don't follow what they believe.  That's because we're all in the world and we don't want to have to work to not be of it.  I'm sure the world will turn out differently depending upon whom we elect to lead the United States.  But I don't think any of them will make it better.  We know Who to turn to if we want peace or justice or prosperity or true freedom.