Half-watching the Bengals vs. the Steelers while my mind wanders into wishful thinking territory . . .
Donald Trump is a walking Hefty bag stuffed full of psychoses. He's spent a lifetime faking it, showing off and overcompensating for his myriad shortcomings and his daddy issues. One manifestation of his megalomania is his longtime desire to own an NFL team. The militaristic aspects of football -- ground attack, aerial attack, marching down the field, the bomb, the blitz! -- have obvious appeal to Cadet Bonespurs.
But from the outset, the snobbish clique of wealthy NFL owners recognized gold-plated trailer trash when they saw it and snubbed his neurotic attempts to join their club. Pretty much black-balled his tacky, nouveau-riche ass.
|As owner of the USFL New Jersey Generals|
But what if? What if the NFL had welcomed the Brooklyn Hillbilly into their fraternity instead of ostracizing him? What if they let him buy that new toy he wanted so damn much?
We'd be in midst of Hillary Clinton's first term as president, Donnie Demento would be harmlessly bloviating in Buffalo, and we'd all have been spared from our ongoing nightmare reality.
It could have happened that way. In an alternate reality, maybe it did.