"Trump, The Greenpoint Years."

I was recently watching the famous (but not famous enough apparently) "Small Loan of a Million Dollars" interview clip with OVERCOMBER DUMB. Aside from the obvious scene of chronic "tone deafness" that apparently didn't dissuade those dirt-poor bucktooths from Kaintuck back in Octember, there was another detail of particular interest to me.

In his oral testimony of his hard knock life, his sad plaint, Trump doesn't seem sure if he's from Brooklyn or Queens. Maybe, methought, he's from Greenpoint, that strange "liminal threshold" at the North-Western corner of Booklyn [sic] & just shy of the South-Western corner of Queens. I lived there for a hundred years one decade recently.

Still that said I am sure I never saw OVERCOMBER DUMB on the nightly trek back from the 7 at Vernon Boulevard–Jackson Avenue to Greenpoint & the McGuinness Boulevard over the Pulaski Bridge c. 2010–2014.

It was maybe 2010 I started to take that route out of sheer disgust at the other option: the L to the 62.

Forget Bedford man. Bedford's almost as bad as Trump.

I had started walking from the Bedford subway, via backroads, because I was sick of waiting for the 62 with the condo hipster rabble, people younger and richer than me, but then they built pretentious boutique bespoke hotels even in the backstreets, and I couldn't avoid oblivious uncool Manhattanites and bumbling Eurotrash and hipsters out with their parents and grandparents taking up the whole sidewalk rather than walking in a line.

Now I preferred to take the Pulaski Bridge with its working stiff demographic and that funny little man who flouted the rules by riding with great and inapt seriousness on a miniature motorcycle dressed as a cross between a traffic cop and Lee Perry.

I never saw the president there, and I think I'd have noticed if I had because in those years I used to semi-avidly watch The Celebrity Apprentice.

Who'd have guessed––

Guy's a fucking liar.
Guy's got a diamond-shaped mouth and a triangle in the centre of his face clustered around a smushed  patent fat kid nose.

* * * * * * * * * *

I laugh aloud with horrible tears in my eyes whenever Trump takes up the cause of "civilization" with himself quite absurdly as its prime defender. O for a Mencken today! Now he speaks loftily about "Western Civilization" –– like Allan Bloom –– and how it must be upheld at any cost. What civilization does he mean, I wonder, mock–innocently. The wrestling? Reality teevee? Billy Bush and Howard Stern? Sheesh.

Guy's a fucking postmodernist.