Say what you will about President Donald Trump, but he certainly has an ethos.
In my gut I knew Trump would win as soon as he announced, but I never dared admit this to anyone. I should have. As Melania said to her husband before he launched his campaign: You know that it if you run, you will win.
And now I know, not just feel, but know why.
Trump endlessly confounds our enemies with memes, and his guests with beauty.
As Camille Paglia would say about Sexual Personae, which changed Andrew Breitbart’s life and in part made him into what he was, every sentence of hers should stand alone if her work is lost to time. That’s how one should write. That’s how one’s actions should stand.
A lost book by Cicero so changed St. Augustine it made him abandon his lofty cushion to become something more. Two chance meetings with Beatrice, and Dante loved her forevermore.
Perhaps Trump, with everything he accomplished and endured, took this to heart. Perhaps one experience should stay with you once everything else washes away. Perhaps we have a president who constructed something like this almost like it was practice.
That is what walking into a Trump hotel is like.
His daughter Ivanka handpicked every slab of marble. The lobby’s floor didn’t exist until he willed it into being.
Some people sneer Trump is “gaudy,” but what do they have? Running constantly through revolving doors, getting caught up in their little schemes and finally spit out—and barking madly for attention like a stray dog? That’s what a GOP consultant’s life is like. No wonder why they hate Trump.
It’s not power. It’s certainly not competence.
And it’s not an appreciation for aesthetics.
When one walks around a Trump hotel, one learns what he means it when he says Make America Great Again. The elegance stuns one—it’s similar to walking into the National Gallery for the first time. One draws energy from Rembrandt’s Lucretia. It’s like standing before a roaring flame, and one simply is grateful and absorbs the energy.
“Energy is eternal delight.” It’s clear why Trump is president, unlike poor, low-energy Jeb Bush.
Those who draw see how clean every single line is—how even looking down a hallway is in itself a work of art. Like Washington, D.C’s streets, the hallways are long and wide precisely because they are meant to convey royalty, to make one feel small.
But just as life is “yes and no,” one feels small and yet are made to understand that they are the only person there. Dignified professionals anticipate and fulfill one’s every need. And one sees Trump’s energy, his drive while taking in one’s surroundings. There’s an elegant card in every room saying: “Efforts and courage are not enough without purpose in direction.”
That was President John F. Kennedy. Underneath that quote is a gentle reminder to “THINK AHEAD” with the day’s weather predictions.
In a Garry Wills book titled The Kennedy Imprisonment, there is a marvelous description of the relationship between JFK and his father: Joseph Kennedy, Wills writes, was like a landing strip and refueling station that, by sheer force of will, had levitated itself into the air, such that JFK could land there and refuel without ever coming near to the ground.
Perhaps calling it Trump International Hotel Washington, D.C. is not quite correct. It’s an American palace. Trump constructed something from the tired, rusted, ancient bones of a building exhausted—then raised from the dead to become something more, a refueling station from which one can draw strength as well as joy.
It takes one’s breath away, and then the appreciation begins to take hold. Once shock fades, one looks at how all of the details come together to form something more magnificent almost beyond one could conceive, how beautifully each and every detail fits together. We joke about 4-D chess, and “88-D underwater backgammon,” but like a real work of art, a Trump hotel, campaign, and presidential term—excuse me, terms—delight one endlessly.
And standing on these cool marble floors, one appreciates White House Chief Strategist Steve Bannon’s words: “With negative interest rates throughout the world, it’s the greatest opportunity to rebuild everything.”
Look up, and see a chandelier in every room.
“Shipyards, ironworks, get them all jacked up.”
A skeleton that needed muscle, and even more importantly—guts.
“We’re just going to throw it up against the wall and see if it sticks. It will be as exciting as the 1930s, greater than the Reagan revolution—conservatives, plus populists, in an economic nationalist movement.”
Step into a Trump hotel and breathe in the greatness, the thought and planning it took into creating it.
“Why is everything so good?” one asks oneself while walking through a lobby. I don’t deserve this, one thinks. We’re all part of a botched civilization.
But the truth is, we do. America may have stumbled but someone lifted her, and her people, up again once more.
One understood Donald Trump would become president simply by stopping by one of his hotels.
All I know is I’m glad I voted for him.
Stay tuned for more.