This is the first in what will (possibly) be a series examining him who has hidden his intelligence more effectively than any before; President Trump.
It was early one morning as Trump’s aides helped him wallow around in the bath before his morning doughnut. He loved this time. Splishing and splashing, he was truly at home. The childlike wonderment he displayed warmed his aides hearts, for they knew the cunning intelligence which surely must have lain beneath.
Did he get water out of the tub sometimes? Sure. Was soap getting in his eyes a pressing issue every morning? You bet. Did he always pee in the tub, no matter how many times he was told not to? Absolutely. But this was the head of a business empire. He made fucking DEALS bro. So while externally the only indication he gave of sentience was in picking his tie everyday, a decision which was often vetoed as he favored calling spaghetti “his Italian tie”, everyone knew through his success that this was a brilliant cover.
What better way to gain leverage at the bargaining table than to have your counterpart understand you to be of the simplest mold. Day after day he would plod into conference room after conference room with only his wits, a team of elite lawyers, and the fortune which his father left him. His ability to do so much with his meager means was legend. The deftness he showed in negotiations was undeniable. Before he came along, people had thought compromise and civil discourse was the backbone of deal-making; how fucking wrong they fucking were.
Stubbornly sticking to principles and statements which often contradicted each other, he shown brightly, time after time beating smaller and financially weaker opponents in breathtaking upsets. Accepting lawsuits on the knowledge that he could outlast any poorer opponent was his bread, mocking them openly his butter. Through these day-to-day struggles, the hardscrabble kid from Queens miraculously scraped together an empire from only several million dollars.
With that pedigree, body, and face he surely would have taken best in show at the Westminster dog show. Friend, family, and dog breeders all pushed hard for him to take home breeding’s most prestigious honor, but he had bigger plans.
It was some years earlier when the idea had begun to tickle the back of his impressive brain. He had done so excessively well with real-estate, television, and steaks; wouldn’t the United States be better with him at the helm? Many, many, many, people screamed, “No, God no, that would be a terrible nightmare.” His inner circle knew better. They knew that this was a man willing to say anything to win. A proven reality star, they recognized his ability to simply play upon the basest emotion to drum up interest. So it happened that with only a pocketful of dreams, a few dollars, and the most skilled Russian agents behind him Trump ran for President of the United States.
The rest is history. Mocking the disabled? Check. Could a woman be President? Nope, they don’t have the right look, according to Trump. Who’s healthier? According to the obese, orange, wrinkle-bag, Hillary’s an invalid. Yes, he deployed every brilliant trick in his bag, and eventually grabbed America by the pussy. His stagecraft throughout the election process was visionary, but would his statecraft continue the tradition?