I’m More Concerned About Trump’s Policies Than The Size Of His Dick

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There’s been a lot of talk about fruit and veg in the press this week. First, about the loonies here in Australia that think it’s funny to put needles in strawberries, and then there’s Trump’s mushroom-shaped penis, the image in my head of which, I can’t unsee.

It’s not that I actively sought out the flagrant details of the US president’s knob, but they are hard to avoid on Twitter.

Albeit a feminist, I’m not a fan of the “kiss and tell” or tit for tat memoir, and I’ll admit to something close to the stirrings of a loose bowel movement when snippets of Stormy’s passionate (?) affair with the President first came to light. Personally, I believe that if you are going to “tell,” a “less is more” approach can be far more salacious. And frankly, the detail of Trump’s tiny manhood – while deservedly humiliating for him – doesn’t alter my opinion of him. I’m more interested in the man’s policies than the size of his dick – although, it’s true that it would be hard for my opinion to sink much lower.

In a very sad way, perhaps the size of his todger is a tiny excuse for his behavior – “small man complex,” and all that.

But you have to admire Stormy, who must surely be cognisant of the avalanche that she has triggered in the media, and which is certain to descend upon her once they get over the titillation of her lover’s small cock. Give her a few days grace before they cut her back down to size and force her to pick up the mantle of the fallen woman again, in spite of Trump’s infidelity and his proclamations about the virtues of family life.

Monica Lewinsky has never walked away from the smear campaign against her, while Bill continues to be canonized for his roving eye. So I hope that Stormy is as strong as her name suggests, or that the revenue from her book is worth the wrath that she has ignited in the White House – particularly if Trump gets re-elected.

Telling the truth at the expense of a man’s reputation is a risky business for women, and stronger women than Stormy have sunk under the weight of their aggression in a duel. The #notallmen retaliation suggests that men are fighting back against what they believe are unfair accusations by women – even though it is only abusers that are being accused, so I’m not sure what the majority of them have to worry about.

In a world in which leadership positions are dominated by men, (and for the main part, by white men), women do not fare well when they stand up for their rights; particularly against powerful men, as proven by those female Liberal MPs brave enough to speak out after the government spill and the cartoon of Serena Williams in the Australian press.

Trump is not known for his forgiveness. He is now known for his mushroom-shaped dick, which, however vulgar that might sound, is still (sadly) unlikely to contribute to the worst parts of his legacy.


I Blame Trump For My Anxiety

It’s not cold here in Sydney today, thankfully, because up until the last week or so it felt like it had been thirty-fucking seven degrees since 2016. But metaphorically it feels cold, that is since Trump entered the building, threw his toys out of the pram and began to shake up the foundations of diplomacy and world politics like a small earthquake. His presence in power has created a similar feeling to that frisson you get when something doesn’t feel quite right. blizzard-1245929_1920


I know his type, and I truly believe he thinks his policies are for the good of the people who voted for him. But he is a Narcissist whose self-importance has blinded him to all consequences of damaging or hurting his followers during his trophy hunt.


It’s hard not to feel anxious when our leading politicians – the people who make those big, crazy decisions about our survival and who have their sticky fingers so temptingly close to the buttons – can’t conceal even their own personal, little boy frustrations. We’re all hugging our babies closer – Gwyneth would approve.


The world media has gone into free fall since Trump was elected; jubilant initially at the gift of so much fodder, and now panic stricken that he might actually shut them down. I can’t decide whether they’re loving the shit storm they’ve created or if they’re secretly thinking that this could be their last work.


But for us pawns of the general public, it is an anxious time when we don’t know what to believe, or where to turn to. We don’t know who we are anymore. Are we racists? Should we be scared? Should we allow that Mosque to be built? What if we can’t get Baklava anymore? Some days it feels as though there’s no positive news at all and everywhere you look Trump’s name dominates the headlines. “Breaking news” these days is always about what’s going wrong in the world, and is usually linked to analysis of his latest verbal comeback on Twitter. The Oscars fuck-up made a welcome change, but when sacred shit like that hits the fan, it’s time to take a step back and reflect. Thankfully, Ryan Gosling’s sister’s breasts distracted the media for at least 48hours afterwards.


Our own Prime Minister, normally a reserved, quietly confident kind of man, has looked like he wants to throw the towel in and go walkabout with his ancestors for a while now, and equally, many want to throw the towel right back at him, hard, for not standing up to the bully in the playground.


So how are we, the minions of society – those who never usually step out of line, don’t squeak too much, pay our taxes dutifully, put our bins out on the right bin night, and adhere to most of its demands peacefully in return for safety and security – how are we meant to cope exactly with this impending doom?


This week they discovered a fossil on Mars that suggests that there is other life – FFS! – in preparation for which I increased the strength of my anti-depressants.


It feels cold outside.


Not as cold as it is for those at the real coalface of inequality, racism and persecution, of course. Not as freezing as it is for those in direct risk of losing their lives, families, livelihoods and self-respect, because someone with power, (who likes to wield it a lot), likes to also talk out of context and invoke fear.


No, this is a first world “cold” for most of us and needs some perspective.


Let’s get real here: for the majority of us, it is an unsettling breeze on a mild day where you wish you’d brought your jumper. We can still watch Netflix, we can drink wine, our families are tucked up nicely in bed at night.


For others, the real victims, a severe weather pattern is forming.

‘Power To The People’

Wisely, I try to leave politics to people who actually know what they’re talking about – mainly because I wither like a flower in sunlight in confrontation – but as my blog is a personal blog and I hold the power, I can’t NOT comment on what is happening in the world right now; I can’t ignore the persecution of race and minority groups in a westernised country on our doorstep right now. human-rights-1898841_1280


When I work with my clients, I ask them to prioritise what they want in their new home. We all prioritise in our lives in our search for happiness, and so when Trump won the US election, although I am a staunch feminist, I understood that many women voted for him because they too had to rank the changes they needed, and employment and being able to put food on the family table took precedence. I also understand that the US has a massive illegal immigration problem, support of which has a huge impact on the average American’s livelihood.


However, I’m equally certain that many of those Trump voters, when they look at the action the man has taken in his first few weeks against Muslims and Mexicans (and basically anyone who does not fit into what is increasingly looking like supremacist idealism), must be appalled.


I was naïve enough to think that like our own lacklustre Prime Minister, (for whom I voted), Trump wouldn’t have the power to put whatever crazy piece of ridiculousness that popped into his head in his golden tower into action by himself. (Because the man IS crazy). Yet, within a few short weeks, he has antagonised leaders of countries with whom we have fought long and hard to reach agreements to protect human life and basic human rights, and what before was a whiff of the mass persecution of thirties and forties Europe that led to a genocide we swore would never happen again, is turning into a very bad smell.


We were making progress towards greater humanitarianism, fairness and the development of a global conscience around inequality. Those sat in our Ivory Towers felt less arrogance about our success and birthright and more empathetic towards those that don’t have them. We were horrified by the Holocaust and Bosnia and Rwanda and learned from them.


Or did we?


Because what is occurring in the US, (and don’t think that the contamination won’t reach our own shores), is that shocking that even Kim Kardashian, (my icon as you know), got off her treadmill, put down her green salad and tweeted this:


That’s right: toddlers kill more people than terrorists.


Fundamentally, what it boils down to is that the President of the US gets to bandy about like some fictional hero in an action movie, destroying the lives of many of his citizens – those same citizens who worked and fought to make his country the frightening superpower that it is now – spreading lies and indoctrinating our impressionable young with an idealism that goes against the grain of all the moral principles that we have tried to instil in our own children, and we have to accept that.


I don’t think so.


Because you’re not too old to make a statement and political astuteness is not required; all you need is a conscience, a sense of what is right and wrong and a generous dose of empathy for those less fortunate.


If the mayors of New York City and Chicago, celebrities and prominent writers such as Elizabeth Gilbert can stand up to this power-hungry, arrogant slime ball, so can we. No matter how small a cog you think you are, or how meaningless your small act of solidarity feels, you are fortunate to live in a democracy with freedom of speech. At the moment.


So, in the words of the great “Wolfie” Smith from Citizen Smith,‘Power to the people!’