Presidential Kinks: Presidential Kinks

By Ashai Abby

They call it Trump being Trump.

It explains the inexplicable things about President Donald Trump. It can mean anything and everything good, bad, and bonkers. But what exactly does it mean? 

His family and close aides say it is Trump being dominant. That he's passionate and the fire in his gut causes him to punch back ten times harder when attacked. When explained like that, it makes sense, and we accept it as truth.

The Left says he is a submissive bottom who gets off the attention and the humiliation that follows. They call him a bully and a fucking moron who cannot tell his mouth from his ass. That he is an insecure manchild doomed to lament his small hands. When explained like that, it makes sense, and we say it is just Trump being Trump.

What is Trump? 

Is he the Dominant top on the Right, or is he a sadist submissive bottom lying his way on the Left? Maybe he is versatile. No? Whatever he is, it does not matter because he is the first conservative leader to get Republicans all eager and gagging for it. His proclivities make him irresistible as a leader and tool that can be used to satisfy their innate drive to deny, defile, and dominate the liberals.

Trump being Trump is a complicated thing. To know him, you need to consider more things, more players, more people and more scenes by presidents to create a sharp contrast that illuminates where, when and how Trump is Trump.

This book looks at President Trump's kink, how he came into power, and the positions taken by his aides and senior administration officials during some of Trump's more controversial power scenes during his campaign and his presidency. 

It is an escape into a fantasy world of political kink, inspired by American presidents and top political leaders. We explore the way they exchanged power, their most significant scenes - commonly known as policies - and how those scenes have matured over time. 

This book is explicit. It is raw, and the climax comes with a surprising twist because that is how things work when Trump is being Trump. 

Trigger warning.

This book is NSFW. It contains mature language. 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashai Abbi
• Release date: Sep 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201114923

Book preview

Dedication

This book is dedicated to me because I finished it. Knowing myself, it is a great achievement after such a long struggle. Yay me.

I want to thank the people who helped me in the struggle. First, thanks to David, Steve, and Victor who listened, saw the potential, and went all out. Thank you, Fidelis and Victor, for reading.

Special thanks to the ladies Ruth, Anne, the two Jackies and the two Diana’s for helping. Many thanks to gents Abu, Booker, Vincent, Simon, Winston for being my forever boys.

One: foreplay.

Even if Bill Clinton was my first full presidential experience, I have to begin my explorations into the presidential kink playhouse with George H. W. Bush.

Like many things that happened during the fumbling, hormone-charged-haze of my teenage years, I did not fully grasp what the deal was with Bush at the time it was happening. This was partly because I was a teenager, and also because more important things than politics were taking place. By the time I was politically mature to grasp the importance and value of politics, life and other more appealing presidents happened. There was no reason to look back at the Bush years.

It was not until Bush, whom for the sake of sake we shall call the first Bush, died in 2018 that something stirred in me. Besides his death - there was so much drama and intrigue in the political circles at the time that, for the first time in a long time - I developed an interest in politics outside the political conversation of the day. It became necessary to look back and reflect upon my experiences, and that is how I ended up revisiting the days and kinks of the first Bush. After that, it was natural to look at the rest of the presidents.

My recollections of the first Bush are limited to feelings rather than experiences. Feelings, as I have come to learn, are not always feelings. Sometimes they are reactions, sometimes they are projections, and what I thought I felt at the time ends up feeling different when viewed through the lens of the present time. As a result, what had lurked as a poisonous animal in the corners of my mind - something I was too afraid to face or stir for fear of striking back - ended up being not as threatening or as devastatingly painful as it had seemed those days when I shoved down my feelings of the first Bush down my emotional garbage chute.

I hate knowing that I spent years carrying this painful lump of humiliation and all those toxic feelings inside of me, for nothing. The feelings that, after three decades of politics, mixed with the sidewalk feelings about life, eventually matured to become the supporting beam of my political persona. A political persona, a political foundation based on false feelings.

Such a wasted life!

Being no longer a teenager, I have come to understand why those feelings had to be buried. Because of that firmly lodged pain and the emotional bruise caused by his presidency, most of my political experiences did, in fact, sprout from an internal wound. Feeling so intense that by the time Obama’s presidency was coming to a close had swelled into blisters for the constant friction that Obama aroused in me. A blister that grew, and later burst into a gaping wound of more feelings oozing in an unstoppable flow of hate, disappointment and fear that has become my identity after the events of December 2017.

In other words, my experience with the first Bush changed me, even without my approval. I am different and I mourn the other me who could have been had they not shaped me into this. I am not me and I was not myself and I will never be myself or who I could have been because of it, and I hate this sad helplessness of not being the stable, original me that I could have been had I read the first Bush better.

Feelings are the worst.

In broad daylight, close to three centuries later, I can finally admit that it was not hate that I felt for the man. Not that I love him or anything snowflakey like that. And no, I have not mellowed my stance on the man because the magical powers of time and tide have eroded the sharpness of the most intense experiences of life into a dull point. I admit that truth because it is the truth and this story, more than anything else, I must be truthful to myself, or say the truth as I know it.

Whatever it was that soured the first Bush for me was clearly something more complex than hate, but less emotional than simple jealousy. To understand them, I have to sift through these  fuzzy memories and take that plunge into my emotional landfill.

My impressions of the first Bush are confusing. I remember the early days of his presidency, and how I was captivated by his smile. I remember looking at him and seeing that presence that screamed power and strength, and I remember feeling loved and protected. And feeling so awesome. There was a bit of pride thrown in. Pride in the man and his office and in being an American.

But I remember the whispers that started not long after he became president. It was nothing huge; just clucks and hisses as arguments turned into mini-dinner fights before the conversation crumbled into angry whispers that saw insults traded and the adults storming out behind slammed doors.

The reason for the whispers was because they - the adults - were talking about the adult things being committed by another adult who also happened to be the president. Therefore, I was not quite privy to the vile thing that the adult Bush had done to upset the adults in my life. All I remember is their reaction to Bush’s adult proclivities and of course, I cannot forget those bitter, pained looks of disgust that accompanied the angry-whispered talks about the president that left me feeling guilty about my warm feelings of confidence and awesomeness and love for the man who was my president.

I grew up quickly, as all boys and girls approaching fourteen do. Like everyone, I was very curious about this amazing thing called sex that was so intense that sometimes a simple thing like a well placed word could trigger me.  Anyway, I was triggered by the naughty words they were using to describe the first Bush’s actions. My curiosity was also turned on and because I had to know what the words meant, I took matters into my own hands. I went out and did my own research into the meaning of the adult things the adult people were using to describe the first Bush.

Even without pictures back then, I was able to read in between the lines to get the gist of the matter. I then freed my mind to its ultimate imagination trip and the results were most interesting. Suffice to say, by the end of my mental journey, I had become fully aware of this thing called kink, and about power and exchange and games and scenes, and the long and short of it is that that is how adults of sophisticated needs played with each other!

A new interesting world had opened up and I had to know.

^

The more I learned about kink, the less I knew what it was.

Kink, as I understood it, was just kink. It was neutral and ready for use. Of course, like anything else, kink could be good kink depending on the person using it, or it could turn into bad kink depending on the person and the situation. The latter happens when a person asks another person or others to do something that is not mutually agreeable or that has not been consented to. Bad kink, as I understood at the time, was not about being moral or depraved or whatever; it was about playing outside the rules or doing what is legally not permissible.

With this understanding, I was able to connect the dots between those many stilted conversations and the conclusion was irrefutable: the first Bush had crossed a line somewhere. Even if I was not clear on the details, I understood that he had committed a political taboo kink and for that, the man deserved nothing but our contempt and hate.

With my curiosity aroused, I scoured the written news and listened in on more conversations until a clear picture emerged from the mystery and the whispers to give the irrefutable conclusion that our president, the first Bush, had turned.

Not only that, but the man had done it in a very public way when he outed himself after he began exhibiting some odd behavior that was not acceptable to us. And by us, I mean the Republicans. More so, I came to understand that this behavior was out of character and that despite being warned about the lines he was crossing, the president did not seem to care about the optics and all that other shit.

In summary, our president was behaving like a wanton queer, and more than that, he was flaunting his depravities for all to see. He had no shame and not once had he expressed remorse for the distress his actions caused.

It got worse.

Not only was the first Bush being queer, but he was also the one taking it. That hurt Republicans more than anything else. It was one thing to be queer; the old college try and bathhouse scene was not a cliche for nothing. However, if one had to be queerish, they had to be the man in the act. Giving was still okay because it preserved manhood and it was widely accepted that a hole was a hole at the end of the dick. However, receiving was a no-no because that was just too queer and we could not have ourselves a queer president.

No.

In essence, the first Bush had betrayed us and as a result, this man would forever be known as a deviant of the first order. He was a disgusting fuck boi, which was an intolerable situation because it embarrassed the entire party. His actions had visited great shame upon our party, and his immoral behavior had no place in our lives!

None at all.

While the exact meaning of the word kink, especially as it applies to politics, was never explained to me, I did not need anyone to explain to me what the words deviant and queer, and disgusting meant. And being a person who was living and all that, I was stuck with the mental image of the president having gone all homo with the Democrats. That was not just an insane turn. It was radical and abnormal and considered a criminal act in lots of places.

Disgusted, I turned away from the president. It was an automatic response to steer and stay clear of those who were like that. My actions were not unusual. I  reacted the way a normal person would do when confronted with an unapologetic queer. A deviant. So, I kept away from the man and whenever there was a conversation about the first Bush, I switched off. He was dead to me and I was proud to be shutting away the immoral vibes that trickled down my back just from hearing his name.

It was not just me who had this reaction, and in fact, I now sympathize with those all adults who, at the time, were forced to speak about the thing because it was not something to be spoken about. But thanos to those good Republicans, we got the full story and the moral upstanding citizens knew they had to stop the first Bush.

Being the parents and adults in the room, they understood their duty and stepped up to prevent that type of filth from seeping into our safe space. By his acts alone, the first Bush had pushed them to the edge of that one clear line on the sand of politics that all good Republicans must never cross. It was the line between good and bad, between corruption and morality, between liberal and conservative. With his actions, the first Bush had put a limit on how much he could be loved and remembered and talked about.

This was on him. It was him who had turned and it was him who was giving it up to the Democrats. He could not blame us for keeping away because he was what he was and that was a queer deviant of a president who was not fit for dinner conversations. It was therefore natural that we worked very hard to keep him as far away from our spaces as possible.

As a normal teen myself, I understood this concept fast enough and well enough that within a short time, I had completely outfitted myself with my moral armor. I kept him away and took efforts not to like him or think about him or talk about him least he led me astray with his queer, seductive wiles.

My stance held long enough that it took root. After a while, I realized the compulsion to talk about the first Bush went away. And others were on the same path and so on and so forth until we, somehow, managed to cancel the first Bush.

The payoff was worth it, though. When the name settled and his fleeting presidency dissolved in the membrane of life, I was able to enjoy a life of blessed bliss and the painful reminders of the first Bush were forever banished.

There was another benefit, an unforeseen consequence of my resolve and self-discipline. I noticed that the more time that passed without bringing up the president, the easier it became to resent him. It was like a physical thing I could hold up and show others to say: hey, I did not fall for the disgusting deviant who was giving it to the Dems and look at me. I have moved on. And also, here is my growing hate as a reward for not falling for him.

I remember waking up one day and finding myself no longer looking at the presidential smile with confidence. I remember doubting. Being afraid. I remember not caring. It was no longer awesome, and there was nothing special about a man who could do that with Democrats, no less!

Whatever that was - because I still did not know exactly what being a kinky person or a fully turned person truly meant - I chose to keep away. It was a personal decision that left me proud for having done something out of principle and personal conviction, unlike the president who had shown no ounce of self control. Or morals..

You can therefore imagine my shock when, after his death, Republicans elevated the first Bush into political sainthood. He stopped being the first Bush, forty-something president of the United States and became something extra. He was christened a name that went beyond time and space and legacy and forever because, from that moment on, the Republicans hailed the first Bush as the Last Great Republican.

^

Nobody I know saw that coming.

Even I, a person with the most reliable political tea leaves, did not see that one coming. The christening of the first Bush was such a surprise that it almost destroyed my credibility as a political-strategic genius, according to my circle of friends. After the flurry of this news had died down, death pun intended, I recovered quick enough to find ways to adjust my worldview and political understanding to avoid getting swallowed in a rabbit hole of confusion and misinformation.

I needed to answer to myself and others why the man we had known to be a deviant was now hailed as a saint. In the poetic and now-famous words that one uses to express their state of mind and feelings after the world has gone tits up with no panties: What the fuck had just happened?

I had another question and it was a double question at that: I wanted to know how and why a man who had been punished so well that he could not even get a second term was being sainted. Again, how the fuck did something like this just happen?

Just when I thought that the shock from these announcements had worn off, something worse happened.

As the thoughts of confusion swirled, they went down and stirred up the formerly buried feelings of the first Bush. There was now a tsunami of never-before-examined feelings inside me. I was close to drowning under a sky-high wave of feelings ripped from time and memory and everything else that had happened since Trump became president. I was overcome and the experience left me feeling displaced from myself.

One day, the waves were gone and the mind was stable. However, I had been wrecked from the inside and there was nothing politically solid left in me. I had to do something or I would fall and melt under the nothingness of it. With so much wreckage, the only way to rebuild me was to deconstruct and reconstruct myself from the lowest and earliest buried feelings until I could create a stable enough ground to build the ladder of feelings that would take up and back to my former stable feelings.

I started by grabbing on to the last single lucid thought before things unraveled: the first Bush was dead. Hopefully. Yes. He was dead and could no longer hurt or turn or whatever. So, no need to panic and no need to catch unnecessary feelings. His death was a fixed point in life.

Anchored by his death and knowing I could always come back to that point if I needed to be still for a second, I was able to calm down long enough to take the scenic walk down memory lane. I wanted to see my feelings and feel my emotions as they had happened way back then. I wanted to understand what I had missed - if I had missed anything at all - and maybe even understand why that happened. Whatever I had to get it right, I was willing to give it a try because I did not want to wake up another twenty years flooded by impossible feelings accumulated for half a century. I was going to do this for myself and millions of others who had been unmoored by the changes in our party.

And the country.

But first, I had to get my basics right and to do that, I needed the full survival kit for politics, power, and kink. Which meant I needed to find out what they had meant when they said that one was a queer-oriented kinky president?

Before I report my findings, I need to clear one or two things. First, the word queer is loaded. If the woke dictionary is to be believed, queer is for gays and only the gays in real-life and their fag hags can say queer without it being bigoted or some other thing they have assigned to words. I will not get angry with an unknown group of people on Twitter by telling them that they cannot own words as it is a form of discrimination. So, I will speak of these words in my space, which is a safe space to say any word I choose to say.

In short, the word was queer back then and the word is queer today and no amount of political correctness will change it, so, let us not quibble about words.

Since the issue of a queer president came up, I have done enough research and binged plenty more by reading and watching a collection of stories, shows, and movies from real-life queers. I have also visited some memorably satisfying queer videos on several great porn sites, and read great literature from some of the great MM novelists like Leta Blake, and Ashton something, and the great Alessandra Hazard who writes proper novels you can use to get off. So, I know what and how the queers do it in bed.

Based on my research, I confirm that that is not what being a queer president is about!

Secondly,  I acknowledge that what teenage me had envisioned as being queer and deviant did not match the reality of what a queer and deviant political scene is about. Now, I understand that when they said the president had turned into a deviant queer taking it from the Liberals, it was a metaphor. It did not mean they were doing it like it happens in PornHub.

For reference, it is like when the liberals liken Donald Trump, the man who was president when the first Bush died, to Hitler. Of course, Trump was no Hitler. That was an exaggeration as the liberals were simply looking for the worst person - in their minds - that they could use to liken to Donald Trump. It was nothing like the real life Hitler, just another hysterical hyperbole designed to discredit Donald Trump, which, in my opinion, was the worst comparison ever.

According to historical facts, Trump was closer to Mussolini than Hitler if for nothing else, but their self-control issues. Or you can reference the same hysterics to the Obama birtherism movement, which claimed Obama was born in Kenya and that he was a socialist Muslim. According to his kink and policy, Obama was the consummate neo-liberal accomplice, with the cunning acceptance that knew it was better to be believed he was a Muslim than a neoliberal president.

So, we have a case of having bad people on both sides, which is fine as fine can be. And, therefore, in the case of the first Bush being called a deviant queer president was more of a metaphor than his preferences.

Anyway, my problem with the newly sainted last Great President was not because I had metaphorically known him as a queer, deviant president. I took issue with the break from Conservative ideology and traditions. We were conservatives and it was never on brand to embrace the queers, whether they were metaphorical or not. It was worse because, in 2018, the aspect of embracing any liberal tradition was beyond the page.

What the fucking hell was happening to my party?

Could this be another one of the tricks usually carried out by the Republican powers that be? Had the Republican powers that be - the party leadership and all related corporate overloads - decided to become liberal? Was the decision to sanctify the first Bush a signal that we could now start messing with the past and rewriting history? Again, what had happened to our conservative ideology? Was it not in our nature - and our duty - to keep the past as it had been? Why this move that seemed designed to rewrite history?

I mulled over these issues for a very long time, running through several scenarios at once. At one time, I even became convinced that the idea of sainting the first Bush was an attack from the Never Trumpers - Republicans who had refused to embrace Trump - who might have decided to have a go at the then-sitting president. I was sure that they wanted to block his path to greatness by taking the position of Great Republican away from the table.

Could they be this spiteful? Could they go out and make a rule that created a new tradition where they would cut the party off of its future history by killing the aspirations of all living, and as yet to be born, Republicans so that we could no longer aspire to be great?

Well?

Fuck them.

This was America. I could be great or not-

The more the idea churned, the more I was forced to resurrect the memories of the first Bush. This time, I went in with my eyes wide open. I promised myself that I would be rational and balanced, and as objective as I could be in my review of the man because I knew better than teenage me.

The new path was less of aching memories and more of head nodding as memory after memory, fact after fact, and research after research yielded one of the most interesting things I had ever been curious about. By the time I was halfway done in my research - something like his second year as president - it became clear that what I had known about the man was not what the man had been.

The first Bush was not the president we had been led to believe he was.

The poor fellow had not only been misunderstood. The man was only doing what came naturally to him and his kink, no matter how despicable it was. He was being true to himself and what he was. He had been born and bred that way and no amount of moaning from the Republicans could change what the first Bush’s kink was.

I now understood why the best they did, at the time, was to call him a deviant queer. He was that, by the way, but there are nicer words to call someone who did it like the first Bush. Kind of the same way we have incorporated the Jews and others into the caucasian brand to avoid lumping them in with the Arabs when talking about Middle Easterners. It just depends on who was naming who, and at the time someone was willing to name the first Bush as queer and deviant president, it was because they wanted to make it a problem.

As proof of this allegation, I will remind you that the kink so many of them called deviant and queer is today the most sought-after kink in Washington. Maybe we are now seeking it because of the demand/supply thing or from an instinctual imperative, like nature’s first gasp before going extinct. Whatever the case, we simply chose to hate the queers and the deviants then because of many reasons, and made the first Bush the butt of the joke.

In other words, I had been wrong about the first Bush.

My problem with the first Bush turned out to have been nothing but pure ignorance and the consequences of a hormonally charged teenage brain. When people said that the first Bush had bent over and given it to the Democrats, my teenage brain had been filled with images of the president with his trousers falling on his ankles as one Democrat after another had their way with him!

Yep. I had assumed that the first Bush was busy having a literal queer orgy in the White House with the Dems while the Republicans watched from the windows. In my teenage brain, that made sense. It explained why nobody wanted to come out and said exactly what the adult thing the first Bush had been doing with the Dems was. It explained the anger and the slammed doors and the look of glee from the two Democrats who used to come to our home. Yes, kids, in our days, Dems and Republicans shared meals and talked politics without pulling a gun or removing a mask from their faces or something.

Being a Dem-loving queer also explained why Bush did not get a second term. The anger must have been too much for the voters as they watched their once not-queer president having a go at it, right?

Whatever the case, I had been fucking wrong because being a queer deviant in politics, and in political kink was not the same thing as being queer in the bedroom. The moment it all came together and I realized that my life had been a big fucking lie... and it hurt a lot. After all, I did not have a clue on how I was going to reconcile myself to having spent my adult life under the misery of hate and long-festering political hurts because nobody told me the facts of kink.

And if you guessed it, you are right. Being a deviant, queer president simply meant that the first Bush was doing a lot of bipartisan politics and giving in to the demands of the Dems. And yes, it was spoken of in code as; as if it was something dirty going on and so, yes, I got it wrong and lived under the wrong impression of the man.

Bite me if you have never been wrong about something in your life!

^

After getting my worldview twisted on its tits, I had a human moment and self-preservation took over. I knew I had to ask the most important question and there was only one question to ask: Why the hell would the powers that be call a man, who had been a one-term president at that, the last great Republican?

Wouldn’t the Republican leadership not want anyone living after the first Bush to aspire to greatness? Wasn’t it short-sighted and rather castrating to call a now dead president the last great Republican when a million more future great Republicans were being put into their mother’s bellies at that particular minute? Who was this shortsighted cunt and could I get two minutes with him in a dark alley?

Logic dictates that if you call someone the last great of something if everyone who comes after them has no chance to ever be great at that thing. In a word, unless powers that be had the ability to predict a future of non-great Republicans, this was fucked up and wrong. Why choose to limit us when it was human nature to try to scale the wall higher than the person before us? Why would the conservatives deliberately choose to shut the door to greatness forever by calling the first Bush the last great one?

Wait a minute: was this their way of polite surrender to the political steam that was rising? Was this their last stand before their impending demise by demographics and antiquated hate-filled ideologies that had swallowed the party into itself? Had they become wise to the impact of their power and politics in the lives of real Americans? Did they know something we did not know and what was- wait a minute. Was this whole thing a ploy to censure Donald Trump by telling him that he could never be great? Was it a set-and-reset button they had switched off until Trump was gone then they could resume the course of greatness?

For months, the questions swirled in my mind as scene after scene blurred into a mist of more questions until the soup in my brain boiled and spilled; hardening into nothing. There were no answers. There was no logic to it, not even the desire to bring down Donald Trump. This was not a pre-emptive strike on Trump no matter how much I wanted it to be.

Because.

Well, because everything is not about Donald Trump - sorry Donald Trump - and also because the powers that be, unlike most people, play the long game. There were two good reasons why this was not about Trump: (a) even if they could sometimes be vindictive and had sour butts after Trump’s victory; they were old-timers who saw the bigger game and could not afford to be that petty, and (b) they could effectively use Trump to meet their conservative judge quotas and distract him long enough to get away without meeting any of his demands because if ever there was a president who was so easy to manipulate, er manage, it was Donald Trump

So, no. This was not about our dear Trump.

And on and on the reflections went it went, until the now hardened lump of questions and scenes and answers and more questions grew and darkened long enough that I felt it was time to close the topic... and just then, something emerged from the mess. It was a crystal-clear answer and once it was revealed, I had my answers.

Think about it.

What happens when you remove something from the table? Well, the thing is no longer there, right? Just as well, when they decided to baptize the now-dead first Bush with the new moniker as the LGR (Last Great Republican), the powers that be removed the coveted and hard to achieve the prize of Greatness from the table of aspirations for members of the Republican party!

In so doing, they opened more opportunities for future Republican leaders and their members to make their mark in other ways. They would define how they wanted to play and what the prize would be. This lateral system of measuring success, rather than the vertical and quite hard to scale system where greatness was the only prize, would make it easier for any president or leader to set for themselves who and what they wanted to be and to become that thing without being censured for not being great!

Do you see it now? Close your eyes and look at the Republican trophy cabinet. Picture the swarm of beautiful women going in, getting the trophies, and then displaying them to the current and future Republicans. A man, for it is always a man, who is the master of ceremonies announces the prizes any of us is likely to win, and once they are revealed and read out loud, can you guess what the prize is?

It can be anything! Like a surprise or something.

Wouldn’t that be exciting?

Maybe some sage Republican man - or woman considering Sarah Huckabee Sanders’ oral prowess or KellyAnn Conway’s everything - had an epiphany. Maybe they thought that scaling towards one goal was not healthy. Maybe the heights of greatness had become an improbable goal, and considering the average weight of today’s Americans, maybe it was only right to level the playing field and invite everyone to play.

With the goal of greatness removed, the Republicans were freed to become anything and everything they could ever become! After that change of game rules, our leaders did not need to aspire to be great. the Powers that be had removed the untenable aspirations of greatness, and now our current and future leaders could be anything but great.

Genius, uh?

Republicans got to spread their ambitions along the ground,  rather than scaling the walls of greatness, or try to overtake the first Bush. The ground offered more options for the person. One could go any way - left, right, North, South, and whatever. Also, one could walk, run, crawl, or even be rolled across the floor until they got to the finish line no matter their body-mass index or running prowess because not everyone was designed to run a marathon.

Interesting move for the party, and an interesting thing to happen when the first Bush’s son, second Bush, had all but been carried across the floor by Dick Cheney because the idiot had no foot to stand on. Following the new rules, the second Bush could have his grave engraved with the words: the first hereditary president. #EngineeredThrone or something to that effect. And it would be an achievement.

Donald Trump, the other Republican president alive, also had options. He could choose to be renamed the first twice-impeached but twice victorious president ever.

Mitt Romney could become the last neo-liberal centrist Republican and Paul Ryan would definitely give him the trophy of the first non-skeletal Republican vice-presidential nominee!

Genius, right? And in all these cases, not only would those aspirations be true and great in and of themselves, they would be so like their owners. By picking their winning moniker, it enhanced their credence and authenticity of their legacy.

In fact, this lateral-growth theory, introduced by the Republican sages, seemed of the greatest benefit to Trump. Who needed greatness when they were already the undisputed first populist Republican? The twice-impeached-but-still-standing Republican president?

The other gem I found in my um, mental intercourse was a great appreciation of this person or persons on the Republican sainthood and baptism committee who had let their inner GoT fangirl shine. From the moment I saw how one could become the first of something, I was reminded of Games of Thrones, (GoT) where leaders of substance named themselves as the first of something as a way to show they were cutting the cord from their parents in a cry of independence.

It was an unexpected place to come across popular culture.

It was also a big strategic move where, with a single stroke, the powers that be helped the Republican party to hit the refresh button without resulting in any