Apples and Oranges
The King and I | Non-Fiction | Fresh Soup
If I had to describe the interpersonal relationship between Donald Trump and me in a few words, I’d say we’re opposites that attract—or maybe similars that repel. Either way, it’s a very complicated relationship. Because however much we disagree ideologically and politically, when it comes to all the little choices and quirks that make up every person’s special sauce of life, far removed from partisan politics and religious affinities, POTUS and I turn out to be terrifyingly similar. Just like my orange doppelganger, I always launch into things with huge enthusiasm and verve, but very soon lose interest. And just like him, yours truly favors spontaneity and last-minute decisions, even with things other people prefer to plan ahead, like, say, war with Iran or where to have Passover dinner. And we both love this freedom so much that we’re willing to pay a heavy price for it, whether that means offending our brother-in-law or tolerating sky-high gas prices. But the greatest similarity between Trump and me might be that when our feelings are hurt and we reach the boiling point, we’re both capable of using harsh words that we later regret (or not).
Another curious parallel: just like The Donald, I married a very beautiful woman who thinks I talk too much, and I, too, have a young son who is a head taller than me and barely glances in my direction.
Bottom line: Trump and I are similar. Maybe not identical, but similar. Some might say too similar. And what’s amazing about all this similarity is that even in areas where we might seem different, we complete each other. For example, Donald is worried about immigrants eating pets in Ohio, and I’m vegetarian. And both of us, each in our own unique way, are trying to make something great again. Granted, in my case the effort is directed more at my faltering literary career and less at a whole nation, but it’s essentially the same movement.
When you look at our life stories, there’s another troubling resemblance that’s hard to ignore. Because who are Donald J. Trump and I if not a pair of men who stubbornly pursued shady or flaky businesses like real estate development or short-story writing, and managed to soar to unprecedented heights, becoming, respectively, leader of the free world and the author of a Substack with over 30,000 subscribers? But we’re not done yet, The Donald and I! So don’t try to predict what kind of nonsense I might choose to publish here this week or even take a vague guess at which country he’ll decide to bomb next.
You can say a lot of things about me and Trump, but we’re not completely detached from reality, and we do know that all this spontaneity and uncertainty doesn’t sit well with some of you. And so, since neither of us is about to change, if any of you have a problem with the way we’re running things, we suggest you unsubscribe from Alphabet Soup and we’ll throw in a ride on one of Elon’s shiny rockets so you can get the fuck off our planet.
I think where you and Donald Trump are both going wrong is in this effort to be like each other. Why not both be more Barbara Cartland? She was an English romance writer who sold more than 750 million books although some put this figure nearer to 2 billion. And also she did not ever invade Iran! So if you stop your silly short stories and Donald stops his silly wars and both put some effort into the romance writing field I think the world will be your oyster. And we can fill our cars with fuel without having to sell our mothers and other associated family members, not excluding second cousins. Once removed.
Bravo! Such a sly way of getting your perspective across.