Donald Corleone

What have I done to deserve this?  I’m not the only one mumbling along with Marlon Brando during these moments when crime feels organized. Professional felony committers are appealing in an amateur world. Take how Donald Trump brings to mind the Mafia. No, the comparison isn’t entirely slanderous, even in reference to shady contractors on one of his measly projects. The principle of doing business by force serves as a common interest.  I’m more scared of Paulie Walnuts than the IRS but still don’t appreciate the coercion.

Sports fans are in awe of superhuman athletes with mostly undefeated records boxing toddlers.  Toughness has to be applied judiciously.  Many voters are drawn to unsavory qualities if you haven’t noticed how we got here.  Enjoy coping with another president unaware he has to back up what’s said to be taken seriously.  The bluff is already being called, as the Taco Bowl Executive is getting outfoxed by Mexico, of all nations.  North America’s bronze medalist was supposed to be easy to extort.

You know, people might stay voluntarily if you’re polite.  But it’s easier for those desperate to maintain a mouthy reputation to threaten companies who dare hire abroad than make them want to stay naturally.  Strength without moral focus leads to the Incredible Hulk smashing downtown without clocking whatever comical CGI villain we’re supposed to fear.

The odd result of mob movies is the respect viewers gain for villains. Still, we can only appreciate characteristics those pro hoodlums onscreen display without context. Citing a Tony Soprano quote about loyalty disregards how he got rich menacing businessmen into paying him to not crush limbs. Viewers viscerally understand there are things to revere about crime families.  But it’s important to remember they’re still families dedicated to crime.

Humans are naturally attracted to honor and backbone, especially following eight years of scoundrels who conceal their inability to complete a pull-up by claiming exertion for jocks.  Yet there’s nothing strong about incessant yapping in regards to who’s about to get socked.  The action is what’s important, and there’s bound to be little follow-through.

The reality of intimidating others in the name of empire isn’t as thrilling.  Capos are not preserving order so people are free to do as they wish but rather cracking limbs in order to get their cut. One may as well venerate the guts of muggers.  Hmmm, how is Trump getting businesses to stay?  It must be charm and low taxes.

Pretending a guy who lost a rumble an old lady will fight for you explains why our world seems so confusing.  Add a wholesale misunderstanding of what constitutes sturdiness for utter bafflement.  Republicans who praise a president for handing out special favors with taxpayer money think conservatives are too idealistic.  Let’s bash National Review and the Weekly Standard for having ideas and standards like a bunch of eggheads.  Principles that promote liberty are for squares.

Those who’ve remained consistent on natural rights think making offers that can’t be refused has to do with a good wholesale price per unit. There’s no need for smashing if the price is right.  Threats are lame.  Levies on those hiring non-Americans isn’t masculine: it’s just being a drooling goon, not to mention a lousy negotiator.  We’re supposed to be impressed that enterprises are staying when the alternative is a commercial kneecapping.

A bully’s posturing is designed to distract from his weakness. Survival instinct is as close to intelligence as they get.  Take the racketeers’ contemptible infatuation with Vladimir Putin, who’s working to be inducted to the Thug Hall of Fame on the first ballot. Throwing keggers in neighbors’ yards is his way of distracting Russians from how Russian their country is.  Aping strength is a popular pastime in a nation where bleakness is the default setting.

It’s hard to beat a quasi-tyrant while admiring him.  An ideal American president would combine toughness with virtue and smack down the neo-czar along with pitiful imperial dreams for his ghetto nation. Instead, buffoons wish to ape the flexing of a delinquent from a hellhole that doesn’t even offer the charm of commie kitsch anymore.  Donald looks at Vladimir the way Beavis and Butt-Head gaze lovingly at Todd. It’s journalistically acceptable to add animated hearts.

Free markets don’t need brass knuckles.  That’s unless someone wants to buy a set, in which case there are countless retailers and prices. For those into mutual trade, the goal is to not make someone who’s into browbeating on a business and personal level president of the United States.  If enough voters are suckered by phony braggadocio, then we’ll just have to reinforce our family.  It’s exhausting to hear who’s supposed to get whacked next, especially when the shallow graves remain unfilled.  Empty threats are both a relief and a bore. Trump’s no mobster: mobsters get things done.


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