TWGB: Pimping the White House

 

One man's idea of luxury is another man's idea of flypaper tacky; in rather the same way one man's idea of a distinctive hairstyle is another man's notion of a molded drain clog fastened to a moldering skull, but if I squint a bit, I can see what the tastemaker at the White House is going for with his gilded style complete with dance hall:

It's an homage to the Gold Rush brothel keeper who founded the family fortune. You know, a little something of l'esprit de bordel. You or I might cringe at it, but Trump is not one to turn his nose up at wherever his money has come from and has always had a soft spot for pimps. Professional courtesy? Or perhaps what passes for respect.

Some people of course simply note that this glitz is reminiscent of Mar-a-Lago, where former friend Jeffrey Epstein poached pubescents. People do say all kinds of things. For example, when I saw that Trump had the Rose Garden paved over, I might have wondered if there was anyone under the cement, in rather the way a troublesome witness might be deposited underground at one's golf course, but with less fanfare.

I also say all kinds of things, though. 

But then I saw the umbrellas and really understood:

The entrepreneurial vision of the man.

Umbrellas today, cabanas tomorrow, and possibly cabana boys (no, girls, definitely girls) but you know. In a classy way. Blond girls with good genes and nice uniforms porting frosty drinks to high-paying  powered guests garnished with little golden umbrellas (the drinks, not the guests) that would serve as lovely mementos of a good carouse at The People's House. 

Maybe Trump, ever the thoughtful host, would play DJ out on the Roseless Garden pavers, spinning wax and shaking the wrinkles out of his pantlegs in his classic dancing form. 

I bet people would pay to see that, in that particular venue. I bet they might consider paying quite a lot, depending upon what else they thought they'd get out of it. Maybe even beyond just kicks and spectacle. 

Now, that might be the sort of thing that would have an ethicist climbing the walls. But it's only got Trump climbing to the roof, to survey his estate and consider what untold riches the right branding might convey. 

Is he dancing a little close to the edge?  I wish I still was certain that was even a thing.