Mr. Trump's Report Card - Failing Marks

Has there ever been such an incompetent, stumbling birth of a presidency?  Like Mark Twain, the death of Obamacare was greatly exaggerated. The "America First" executive order banning everyone who had a foreign thought was dead on arrival. Tax reform, replacement of our crumbling infrastructure, a booming jobs report? Not yet, wait a while, not so much.

 

Meanwhile, Mr. Trump has managed to offend foreign leaders, both ally and foe, with his total lack of knowledge of basic facts or understanding of political protocol. While his "I don't have time to be politically correct", secret code for I don't know what I am talking about so I will just be rude and crude, played well enough within his party to assure his ascendancy, it has not translated well with those who are, let us say, not impressed with this act on a global stage.

 

With both houses of Congress lined up and the stolen seat of Merrick Garland now delivered into the waiting arms of Neil Gorsuch, this should be the days of wine and roses for Mr. Trump. Cherry blossom in bloom, the anticipation of a summer of winning so much that, to paraphrase the President, we could get bored of too much success.

 

Instead, he has surrounded himself with an army of sycophants and neophytes, relatives and relative nincompoops. It is an array of the blind leading the blind. There is infighting and, to be certain, finger pointing, as Mr. Trump lurches from pillar to post searching aimlessly through his sleepless nights for answers, or maybe even the questions to ask, of those who are not, even in the kindest of reflections, a murderer's row.

 

He is a vessel in search of a port. Without a home, seeming allergic to everything about Washington, choosing the comfort of the familiar surrounds of Mar-a-Lago as his weekend getaway, the American taxpayer footing the bill for protecting his family in New York and his sojourns to Florida, while at the same time being asked  to kill off Big Bird.

 

He has, for a moment, deflected attention from the imbroglio surrounding the wink-wink "independent" actions of his best friend, I mean worst enemy, Vladimir Putin, in hacking his way into the Oval Office. Mr. Trump, who earlier in the week washed his hands of the Syrian mess (it is for them to decide if Assad is to remain their leader) suddenly discovered that nearly 500,000 dead and 5,000,000 displaced did not happen of its own accord. But while the 59 missiles was a statement, it appears all it said to Assad was, kill them in a different way next week than you did this week. And there is no hint that our doors will open any time soon to the distressed and the damaged.

 

So, the signature reforms that Mr. Trump promised on day one are still apparently not ready for prime time. The economy is not demonstrating the surge the President envisioned. He is at war with his own people, with leaders near and far. His party can't get out of its own way. No one it seems is frightened by his bluster or impressed with his intellect. If he were a race horse, I believe his owners might be considering putting him out to pasture.

 

Yes, his presidency is in its infancy, not even three months old. Mr. Trump has, and will, blame everything that has gone wrong on everyone but himself. But the sad reality is that the man born with the silver spoon in his mouth, given opportunities on a silver platter to make his mark, has instead failed to make even the smallest of positive imprints. 

 

And while the rumors of the death of Obamacare were premature, it seems that the birth of Donald's Trump's "successful" presidency is less likely to occur with each painful trimester it gestates.