Donald Trump

Megamorphosis

I now know what it feels like to be hated by every guy in a bar because the four hottest girls there are dancing intently around you. And yet, I am not all that distracted.

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Megamorphosis

Dear Button,

“A man who takes nothing but his wallet to Las Vegas is no one to be trifled with.”

There comes a time after you have lived in a new place long enough that you finally feel at home. Mine began in January of this year when I boarded a plane bound for Las Vegas to see the Mike Tyson/Frangois Botha fight:

Scampering down the jetway, I’m carrying nothing but my wallet and a particular type of excitement, a confident bubbliness over things coming. I am not giddy because of the possibilities of what might happen, I am giddy because I know exactly how the trip will go. That confidence, I know now, is what marked the switch.

Squeezing through first class, I glance around a few arms and shoulders and a beautiful blond woman catches my eye. She has an empty window seat next to her.

“Of course that’s my seat,” I say to myself. I check my stub. It is.

About halfway through the flight, this woman and the man sitting next to her (recently married, I assume, because of how vigorously they hold hands) decide to look at a photo album. I’m thinking wedding pictures. But of course they’re not wedding pictures, they’re pictures from the nude photo shoot on the beach the blond woman had done recently. And, surprise, she’s not shy about opening the book wide enough so that it gently bumps my thigh. She wants me to look.

No tattoos. Anywhere.

The taxi line at McCarran is very long. I stand in it for a few minutes. No one moves. There is a white limo parked across the street. The driver leans nonchalantly against it. He doesn’t want to stir up business. He only wants to carry people who come to him. I raise my finger at him from across the street. He nods and chucks his toothpick to the asphalt.

“You going to the Grand?” a guy behind me says. He’s with three other dudes. “Throw your stuff in the trunk,” I say, and we’re off.

Introductions all around. They’re from New York. They want to know which strip club is the best. I give them a rundown. They seem pleased with the information. When we get out, I pay the driver.

When the New York boys try to give me money, I shake it off and tell them to buy me a drink at the strip club later. We all know we’ll never see each other again. Handshakes, and I disappear into the roiling crowd.

Matt greets me in the lobby of the MGM Grand with a VIP pass and a smile. The place is utter chaos. Pushing through the crowd, we swap airplane stories. He sat with Montel Williams on one of Paramount’s private jets. Montel (whom I met later at ringside) is a hell of a nice guy. After relating my story to Matt, it dawns on me how things are different. The old me would have run off the plane and called friends to tell them I sat next to a beautiful woman and saw pictures of her naked. I would have yammered to the limo driver and those guys from New York the entire ride. But I didn’t. I didn’t tell anybody but Matt, ’cause he already went through the change.

The first person I run into in the VIP area is Jack Nicholson. I mean I literally run into him. Or just about. He hangs up a pay phone and spins around, nearly clipping Matt and me. Jack’s in black, including beret, with gigantic sunglasses. His lips are working on the business end of a cigar reminiscent of a horse’s penis.

We steal into the party and come up empty on our initial search for Trey. To the bar then. The excitement and beer mix well, and we’re waxing philosophical about greed and excess in no time. And, of course, you can’t talk about greed and excess in a gambling town without mentioning Donald Trump, which we do, only to discover The Donald standing in earshot behind us.

At ringside, Trey and Matt are on either side of me. Montel is to Matt’s left, the Wayans brothers to Trey’s right. Muhammad Ali is escorted to a seat three rows ahead. Jack is right behind him. Stephen Baldwin is in front of us, screaming his lungs out for Tyson, calling him Mike like they’re good friends. Maybe they are, but it’s pissing Matt off. So every time Stephen shouts for Tyson, Matt screams “You suck, Mike!” Stephen’s pissed. The three of us are pulling for Botha, for no other reason than everyone else is for Tyson. It’s not a boxing match, it’s a celebrity roast. The stars aren’t there for pugilism, they’re there to be seen. It’s ridiculous.

At least we get to sit directly behind William Shatner.

After the show, we head to the Hard Rock Hotel to meet up with Rick Rubin, head of American Records. He produced the “Chef Aid” album a few months before and everyone became friends. We sit down for a little chow, and I talk boxing with Peter Berg and Anthony Kiedis. They are both very polite. I assure them I am no aficionado, only that I have read the recently published Ali biography, “King of the World.” I tell them it is an excellent book. Anthony drinks tea and nods.

Later, I run into Peter at Club Paradise. Trey and I are being escorted into the VIP room when a hand reaches out and grabs my arm. “David!” he shouts. I am pleased he remembers me. He offers me a drink, but I decline. He is too far ahead for me to catch up.

The story ends with me and Trey and two dancers at the Luxor.

So there you are, fragments of the metamorphosis. Which gets me back to the whole reason I wanted to write: Swedish strippers.

You never tell guys there are strippers at a party because then they think they’ll be getting lucky later, and they act like even bigger assholes than usual. But let me let you in on a little secret: of the 25 or so dancers I know as friends outside of work, none of them has gone home with a guy from the club. Mostly, it just won’t happen. And why? Because when they’re at work, you are a big dollar sign. They say and do what it takes to push your buttons and get your twenties. Then, after 4 o’clock rolls around, they’re normal girls.

Which doesn’t mean strippers are not fun to hang out with outside of work. On the contrary.

Trey put the girls up at the Miramar Sheraton while we had Thanksgiving. The next day we had a writers’ meeting, then rendezvoused with our guests about 8. We closed down this new little place, Dado, at about 11:30 and headed home. Trey had to get back to a script. The girls, however, were just getting warmed up. That left me to chaperone.

I now know what it feels like to be hated by every guy in a bar because the four hottest girls there are dancing intently around you, like the devoted around an idol. Walking down Melrose the next evening, it was the same vibe. The stares from these guys said it all. None of them was pleased to see me playing consultant as the girls tried on outfits consisting of little more than a strap and a swatch of cloth no bigger than a half unfolded wet-nap.

What gets me about the whole show is the sheer volume of sexuality nuzzling its way through the nooks and crannies of the house. Beautiful, ripe young bodies scamper about in the very tightest of clothes, pants that begin at the crack of the ass and slither downward in a tight rush. Midriffs reveal ringed navels and hang a delicious breast length away from warm skin. And yet (I know you won’t believe this) I am not all that distracted. Yes, a little. But I don’t feel excited. My own routines concern me more. Like on the plane going to Vegas, I am confident about the outcome of their visit. It goes exactly as I imagine.

Still, after they’ve gone, back to Sweden, London, back to those other worlds, I feel a little sad in the empty house. In a few days I will be glad there is no bustle. But not just now.

In the hot tub I marvel at the clear night as the lights from Century City shine crisply up the valley at me. I turn the jets off and sit in a still quiet as the full moon hangs cool as an Altoid above a distant Hollywood.

Love,

David

David Goodman, like Steven Spielberg before him, grew up in Haddonfield, N.J. He writes for "South Park" and is the editor of bluelawn.com.

How to cure the crazy

The return of Donald Trump forces the question: Is there anything the GOP can do to recover from insanity?

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How to cure the crazyDonald Trump (Credit: Reuters/David Moir)

One thing when writing about the Republican Party and the crazy – you can always be certain that it’ll generate new examples. So just when the news that a member of the House accused dozens of Democrats in Congress of being Communists seemed to be going stale, along comes Donald Trump – who is scheduled to appear at a fundraiser with Mitt Romney next week – to spout birther nonsense.

For those of us who believe that there’s something seriously wrong with the Republican Party (and see Tom Mann and Norm Ornstein’s new book; see also my argument that the problem is not about how “conservative” they are, but about their radical style), the big question is whether anything can be done about it. American democracy needs two strong, solid political parties, but currently one of the parties is just a mess – incapable of making coherent policy when it’s in office, and dangerously obstructionist when it’s out of office.

So how can a party recover? I think there are three ways, but two are unfortunately quite unlikely, and the third is at best uncertain.

Some talk about the possibility that the electorate will punish Republicans for their radicalism. Unfortunately, I think that’s unlikely. Note that consecutive blowouts in 2006 and 2008 certainly didn’t make things better. Part of the problem here, too, is that elections generally don’t work that way. It’s true that the impression of ideological extremism can be costly, as Barry Goldwater and George McGovern learned the hard way, but we’re talking here about 2 or 3 percentage points in a presidential election. Direct action by the voters just isn’t enough to do it. After all, as voters, they can only choose between the nominees that they’ve been offered, and if anything voters are more partisan than ever; they’re not likely to defect just because a candidate embraces the crazy, even if they don’t like it, because they would still have a strong preference for that candidate otherwise.

A second possibility is that they’ll wind up with a successful president who sets a strong example of sane conservativism and who is strong enough within the party that he or she can push a lot of the crazies to the fringes and beyond. That could work. Presidents have limited influence in general, but one thing that a popular president can do is to define normality for his or her own party. They can reward some and punish — or at least avoid rewarding — others, creating real and meaningful incentives that can be very different from what came before. The obvious analogy is Dwight Eisenhower’s maneuverings against Joe McCarthy. The problem is that for this strategy to work it takes a skilled and popular president who decides to try it, but Republicans might have to wait a long time before they get another Ike.

So the first method probably can’t work, and the second one is unlikely to happen. That leaves one other possibility: that the Republican coalition itself might demand change. Specifically, that Republican-aligned interest groups – perhaps business, national security or others – might become upset enough with the crazy, or worried enough that the crazy will impede their ability to get things done, that they’ll push to end it. After all, part of the problem with the crazy is that it truly is random; you really never know what nonsense Limbaugh or the Breitbart sites are going to be up to next, and there’s every possibility that it could interfere with groups within the party pursuing their interests. Even worse: Politicians who believe they were elected because their most valuable allies convinced the electorate that the president was a radicalized foreigner are going to be responsive to those supporters, and not to organized party groups. Those groups have enough troubles as it is, since in the current free-for-all campaign finance environment they have to compete with random billionaires who might have all sorts of unorthodox policy preferences.

We’ve seen a little bit of this already. During the healthcare debate, many normally Republican-leaning groups chose to work with the Obama administration and cut their best deal, rather than sticking with the rejectionist GOP. Several companies quit the conservative state lobbying organization ALEC when it became controversial by lobbying for ideological and partisan goals. On the national security side, a break has emerged between the Department of Defense and movement conservatives; both conservatives who care about national security and (on some issues) businesses might choose to stick with the Pentagon. And it’s not quite the same thing, but there’s been a small but steady stream of defectors from the movement.

Nevertheless, something like this would likely play out in nomination politics, with party-aligned groups insisting on candidates who are willing to fight for their interests while rejecting the crazy, and there certainly isn’t any sign of that yet. Will it in 2014 and 2016 if Romney falls short this fall and the crazy gets even worse? I have no idea – but that’s the only path out of this that I can imagine.

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Jonathan Bernstein writes at a Plain Blog About Politics. Follow him at @jbplainblog

Romney advisor stands by Trump

Kevin Madden says the GOP candidate will still appear with the birther mogul, even though they disagree

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Romney advisor stands by TrumpDonald Trump (Credit: Reuters/David Moir)

Despite the fact that Donald Trump reaffirmed today that he’s pretty sure President Obama “was born in Kenya,” Mitt Romney advisor Kevin Madden defended an upcoming joint fundraiser in Las Vegas today, arguing that Romney shouldn’t be held responsible for Trump’s birtherism.

In an interview with MSNBC’s Andrea Mitchell, Madden noted that Romney has publicly repudiated the birther myth in the past, and would do it again, but stopped short of saying that the candidate will do it in Trump’s presence.

When Mitchell asked if Romney will “stand up next to Donald Trump and disavow that [myth],” Madden replied, “He’ll stand up next to Donald Trump and he’ll talk about why he wants to be president.” “Any time the subject goes off of that, or if something where … Governor Romney would disagree, he’s going to make that very clear,” Madden added, without saying whether that clarification would be to Trump’s face or after the event.

The twice-bankrupt casino mogul has managed to insinuate himself into the Romney campaign, even as he continues to push the entirely false and racially tinged birther myth. If Trump has his way, he’ll play an even bigger role in the Romney campaign going forward, potentially speaking at the GOP convention or even snagging the vice-presidential nod, for which he nominated himself this week.

The standard the Romney campaign seems to be advancing here is that it’s OK for the candidate to appear on the same stage as a loon, as long as that loon doesn’t say the thing that makes him loony in the candidate’s presence. And if he does, the candidate can merely disavow it later. But it’s hard to imagine that the right would be comfortable with Obama appearing on the same stage as, say, Bill Ayers or Jeremiah Wright, even if neither said anything controversial in that moment.

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Alex Seitz-Wald is Salon's political reporter. Email him at aseitz-wald@salon.com, and follow him on Twitter @aseitzwald.

Hey, Mitt: Dump Trump!

After a new rant about Obama's birthplace, Romney needs to cut all ties with the birther loon

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Hey, Mitt: Dump Trump!

Yesterday it was funny: Mitt Romney announced he was having a fundraising contest to let supporters win a dinner with the farce that is Donald Trump. President Obama has raffled off dinners with George Clooney and former President Bill Clinton; Mitt’s got Trump. Any questions? Do you see a stature gap between the two campaigns? Do you want to have dinner with two guys who like to be able to fire people? Whatever floats Mitt’s boat.

Today it’s appalling: puffed up by Romney’s flattery, the preening, orange-haired narcissist doubled down on his idiotic birther claims against the president, telling the Daily Beast’s Lloyd Grove: “Look, it’s very simple. A book publisher came out three days ago and said that in his written synopsis of his book, he said he was born in Kenya and raised in Indonesia. His mother never spent a day in the hospital.”

If you haven’t been following the story, and I tried not to, the addled spawn of Andrew Breitbart found a dusty 20-year-old catalog from Obama’s former literary agency that said he was born in Kenya. An assistant quickly said that she wrote down incorrect information. Trump doesn’t believe her.

“That’s what he told the literary agent,” Trump told Grove. “That’s the way life works … He didn’t know he was running for president, so he told the truth. The literary agent wrote down what he said … He said he was born in Kenya and raised in Indonesia … Now they’re saying it was a mistake. Just like his Kenyan grandmother said he was born in Kenya, and she pointed down the road to the hospital, and after people started screaming at her she said, ‘Oh, I mean Hawaii.’ Give me a break.”

Give us a break, Mitt. It was already embarrassing that you were using Trump as a fundraising lure – why not raffle off a dinner with Dick Cheney, who’s hosting a fundraiser for you in July? At least Darth Vader has gravitas; Trump is a joke. Pretending to run for president, Trump made birtherism his big issue, and ultimately Obama responded by prevailing on the state of Hawaii to release his long-form birth certificate – a truly sad moment for this country, when the overwhelmingly elected president, a black man, has to show a nasty rich white guy his papers.

If you ever want an example of the vicious political double standard that helps Republicans in this country, here it is: Democrat Hilary Rosen said something inartful about Ann Romney being a stay-at-home mom, and the entire Democratic Party had to denounce her; Obama campaign leaders tripped over themselves to be the first to push her under the bus; Rosen immediately apologized. But Romney has been able to keep his ties to Trump as well as misogynist Rush Limbaugh without political penalty — so far.

This is a moment for the presumptive Republican nominee to stand up for sanity and distance himself from the crackpot birther fringe, and tell Trump he’s going to have to cancel their dinner date. Maybe he’s got to wash his hair that night. Or one of Ann Romney’s cars.

Does Romney have the integrity and courage to do that? I don’t think so, but I’d love to be surprised.

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Joan Walsh

Joan Walsh is Salon's editor at large.

Trump insinuates self into Romney campaign

How a toxic attention-seeker (not Newt) will likely end up speaking at the RNC

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Trump insinuates self into Romney campaignBusinessman and real estate developer Donald Trump (L) greets Mitt Romney after endorsing his candidacy for president at the Trump Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada February 2, 2012. (Credit: Reuters/Steve Marcus)

So. Donald Trump again? Are we really doing this again? I guess we are!

There were stories, recently, in the usual places, about how Trump was being seriously considered for a major speech at the Republican Convention. I did not dwell on the story much, because I assumed that these rumors were a product of Donald Trump’s prodigious vanity and powerful imagination. Ha ha ha, sure, the Republicans will definitely want the stupid make-believe TV mogul who pretends to fire people for a living, at their big party.

Now that “Celebrity Apprentice” is done, Trump is back to pretending to be a major political player. He just announced his intention to start his own super PAC, because he is a weird attention-hungry idiot with a bit of money to burn (though not as much money to burn as he would like you to think he has to burn).

He is just, essentially, begging the party to let him be on TV at their convention. But Maggie Haberman wrote today that while Trump is just definitely not going to be anyone’s running mate, the Republicans might actually have him speak at their convention. Because Romney is actually getting a lot of use out of Trump:

He’s been a surrogate for Romney, recorded robocalls for him and pushed him on the Fox News airwaves and over Twitter. He’s also raised money for him, and both Ann and Mitt Romney have thanked him in public for his help. There is no question that he has an appeal to some voters and that Romney has been better off having Trump with him than against him.

“Some voters.” Awful voters. The worst voters. But yes, it is basically true: Romney embraces Trump because there’s very little downside. He gets support from horrible people, and he is not really taken to task by non-horrible people (or, for the most part, journalists) for associating with him. This is how Trump will end up at the convention, despite being the most prominent birther in the nation.

In fact, the Romney campaign is auctioning off dinner with Donald Trump, in case you have a couple thousand dollars and some sort of horrible grudge against someone. That does not suggest that anyone at the Romney campaign is particularly wary of the guy.

Here’s another line from Trump’s Newsmax interview, just so we understand that this Donald Trump is not any less invested in conspiratorial race-tinged dog-whistle Jerome Corsi nonsense than he was last year:

He adds: “If you’re going to look at that, on something that I don’t believe ever happened, you have to look into Barack Obama saying that he was heavy into drugs, heavy into alcohol, was a total disaster, was a horrible student. Then you have to say if he was a horrible student, how did he get into Columbia? How did he get into Harvard?

Suspicious! How did Obama get into Harvard? (Maybe his father was secretly … Charles Kushner!)

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Alex Pareene

Alex Pareene writes about politics for Salon and is the author of "The Rude Guide to Mitt." Email him at apareene@salon.com and follow him on Twitter @pareene

The Trump brothers’ grotesque hunting spree

The Trump sons go on safari -- and prey on the weak and helpless for fun. Sound familiar?

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The Trump brothers' grotesque hunting spreeDonald Trump, Jr. and Eric Trump (Credit: huntinglegends.com)

How arrogant and out of touch are Donald Trump’s sons? Let’s put it this way – this is a story in which their father comes off as the subtle, nuanced thinker.

It seems Donald Jr. and his brother Eric went to Africa on a hunting trip last year, and their tour company, Hunting Legends, decided recently to brag of the men’s prowess on their Web site, complete with graphic photos of the brothers and their kills. And here’s a shocker – there’s something about rich white men smiling with the carcasses of the African animals they’ve killed that a lot of people just don’t like.

The photographs are intense – images of the men proudly hoisting a dead leopard, smiling and holding a sawed off elephant’s tail next to the animal’s body, posing with a dead bull and waterbuck and an enormous, strung-up crocodile.

PeTA unsurprisingly jumped at the opportunity to get a little free press from the episode, sending out a statement that “Like all animals, elephants, buffalo and crocodiles deserve better than to be killed and hacked apart for two young millionaires’ grisly photo opportunity.” And even Donald Sr. told “Access Hollywood,” “I’ve never liked it (hunting). I’ve never liked that they like it… I’m going to talk to them about it. I’m not a fan of the whole situation.”

Yet the younger Trumps stand by their actions. In a joint statement, the brothers defended themselves, explaining, “We are both avid outdoorsmen and were brought up hunting and fishing with our Grandfather who taught us that nothing should ever be taken for granted or wasted. We have the utmost respect for nature and have always hunted in accordance with local laws and regulations. In addition, all meat was donated to local villagers who were incredibly grateful. We love traveling and being in the woods — at the end of the day, we are outdoorsmen at heart.”

Those of us who eat meat– and have respect for cultures where hunting is necessary for survival – understand that the cow that made your lunchtime burger didn’t peacefully stroll onto your plate. Most of us are deeply disconnected from the vivid reality of slaughter. The animals we eat had to die, and that means somebody had to kill them. So if the Trump brothers’ escapade put food on the table for the locals, is that such a bad thing?

In and of itself, it’s not. The Hunting Legends site, which says that “Africa is God’s country” and that “God doesn’t bless mediocrity, he blesses excellence,” would like to dispel the image that “To often we as hunters are critisized and referred to as killers.” [sic] Hunting Legends says its efforts instead play a role in conservation and wildlife population control. “We create jobs for local hungry people, we feed them,” the company says. It also, tellingly, explains that guests “hunt our old & mature male animals, which are beyond their prime productive time.”  But if you want to shoot an old leopard, it won’t come cheap – rates for the experience are around $750 a day and the leopard will run you seven grand. The company will decorously share the cost of an elephant or crocodile upon request.

But there is something wildly smug about the Trumps’ mention of how “grateful” the “villagers” were for their bounty – a sense that the poor natives were lucky those big strong millionaire’s sons came along to feed them. And their noblesse oblige doesn’t play so well when Trump Jr. retweets a fan’s sentiment that “Most of the people hating on you is because you are young, rich and successful. … rock on!”

There’s nothing wrong with feeding people, and wildlife conservation does, realistically, sometimes include population control. That’s a fact of life whether you’re in Zimbabwe or the Trump’s playground of Manhattan. But if you want to feed those locals, maybe you could just, I don’t know, let them do the hunting. And if you call yourself “avid outdoorsmen” when you’re really just picking off the weak in a theme park for geriatric mammals, you’re just pathetic.

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Mary Elizabeth Williams

Mary Elizabeth Williams is a staff writer for Salon and the author of "Gimme Shelter: My Three Years Searching for the American Dream." Follow her on Twitter: @embeedub.

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