April's Fool

April's fool, and for that matter, every other month, stood at the podium. He looked almost ashen, his John Boehner perpetual orange glow now replaced by a kind of banana like yellow hue. Donald Trump began the most extraordinary speech in his most extraordinary journey with a most extraordinary announcement. "As of this evening, I have suspended my campaign. I am no longer a candidate to be the Republican nominee for President."

In the months since he began his scorched earth attack on everything from Carly Fiorina's face to Jeb Bush's energy, from Ted Cruz's veracity, to Marco Rubio's capacity, when every Muslim in the world was now under suspicion, every Mexican a possible drug dealer, from his assault on the past two presidential choices for his party to his condoning the assaults by his campaign manager and some of his more aggressive fans, nothing and no one has made Donald Trump back down, or take back any of the thousands of odious comments that have left his lips after spending virtually no time being distilled by his brain. 

Almost everything he has said has come without the benefit of knowledge, advise or understanding. His lack of insight on domestic and foreign affairs was unmatched. If anyone could make us long for the return of Sarah Palin, this was the man.

He was in a constant battle not only with Fox News and the Republican establishment  but with himself. He could take contrary positions in the same sentence without missing a beat and left for dead his prior stances on as many topics as he could discuss. Contemplation and consistency of thought lay mortally wounded, victims of a maniacal determination to accumulate the most outrageous, attention gathering, ludicrous sounding, puerile and putrid consortium of syllables, nouns, verbs and lots of adjectives and adverbs ever assembled in one almost continuous stream of invectives.

And yet he soldiered on, remarkable in his unapologetic approach, never conceding an inch or a mistake, never wavering in his commitment to himself. If a person could be this strong in the face of every insult and counter attack, if he could cross every line that couldn't be crossed with such conviction, if even the Pope could be chastised and told to mind his own business, then how could there not be something perversely compelling in all this grotesqueness?

But here he was, late on the evening of April 1, 2016, trying to unwind the last month's of his life as if they had never occurred. 

"Frankly, I am tired of all this. Tired of the bull, tired of the fight, tired of many of you and most of all, tired of listening to myself. I am a businessman, an entertainer, a negotiator, but I am not, never was and never will be a politician."

"I am sorry for much of what I have said, you have heard, over the course of my campaign. I have insulted so many different people for whom I truly have the greatest respect. When I said that I have friends among all these communities, the Mexican, the Chinese, the Hispanics, I was telling you the truth. I am tough, as tough as they get, but I do have an understanding side, and I am very well liked, very well respected by everyone, I mean everyone, with whom I do business." 

"But I don't know and I don't like this person I have become over these past months. I have said terrible things about so many people, indiscriminate attacks on women, whom I love, on people who I have long considered friends. I have been over my head from the first day I entered this ring and have only survived by the force of my will. But it has all been a charade and I have grown weary."

"I am now stepping aside and bowing out. I am not a quitter and never will be. But I believe in the greatness of America and this country deserves something, someone far better than me. So, this is my last, my final speech of the campaign. I hope you can forgive my trespasses and that you understand that this decision is made so that this country has the best chance to become great again." 

And with that, there was a slight wave, a smile that seemed remarkably like that of one of the villains in the Batman movies, and an exit from the stage, leaving nothing behind but empty space.

The crowd, after what seemed like minutes of stunned silence, rose as one. The sound that emanated could only be matched by that of an oncoming tsunami. It was not of human decibel. The shrieking, the screaming, the people literally fainting from the overwhelming sensation that coursed through their body. Was it a collective sound of cheer or anguish?

Within but moments, the world was on fire. Billions of words were typed or spoken simultaneously. From the nearest street corner to the farthest reaches of the globe, the word Trump reverberated as if in a million part harmony.

Not more than two hours after the speech concluded, the first polling data was in. Donald Trump's popularity had soared to record levels. It was reported that Trump, who had been trailing in the Wisconsin primary by double digits earlier in the day, was now almost 20 points ahead of Ted Cruz. 

It was something that was almost too strange, too mythical, to comprehend, to believe. When you awaken from your slumber on the morning of April 2, it will undoubtedly seem but a dream, a nightmare, events that resided merely in your head and not in the universe as we know it.

And yet, as the last moments of April 1 pass into history, this much we know. Donald Trump will likely not be permitted his graceful exit. By overwhelming popular demand he will be called upon to reconsider and to take up the cause on behalf of the many millions who now believe, more than ever, that Donald Trump can make America great again.

Late in the evening of April 1,  Trump lay in his bed, rapidly changed the channels, listening to the uproar. He smiled broadly.