Trump’s Dump

In my very first column for the Resurgent, I theorized that one of the biggest problems liberals had in attacking Donald Trump was that the man is essentially Rodney Dangerfield in Caddyshack–a rich.

Mostly loveable slob whose greatest pleasure in life is tweaking the old-money snobs who think they’re better than him. People root for Rodney because they see him sticking it to the man and having fun while he’s doing it, kind of like Trump when he sticks it to the DC establishment, and when they see him being rude and ill-mannered–well, that’s just part of his underdog charm.

So it really isn’t much of a surprise when the rumor of an uncouth remark pops up like a gopher poking his head out of a hole on the 18th green–but instead of the fictional golf club Bushwood, this story comes from one of Trump’s real courses at Bedminster, New Jersey:

During election season, Bedminster morphed into a kind of permanent campaign rally site. Trump posters and bumper stickers were plastered across the property, and an anti-Hillary shrine was built in a bar in the men’s locker room. The club held a Ryder Cup–style competition in which the teams wore either red or black Make America Great Again hats…

As President, Trump has already made four visits to the club. He has his own cottage adjacent to the pool; it was recently given a secure perimeter by the Secret Service, leading to the inevitable joke that it’s the only wall Trump has successfully built. Chatting with some members before a recent round of golf, he explained his frequent appearances: “That White House is a real dump.” (A White House spokesperson denies this occurred.)

Hoo, boy. It’s worse than that time Rodney farted at the country club and then asked, “Whoa, did somebody step on a duck?”

Chelsea Clinton wasted no time in putting her own special Twitter spin on the Donald’s faux pas,expressing solidarity with all the little people who keep the White House chumming along:

Because when it comes to servants tending your every single need, you better believe that Chelsea knows what she’s talking about.

Ben Shapiro was more practical:

It’s hard to argue with that–particularly with such a precise number.

But is any of this even true? In spite of the denials, I have to admit it kind of sounds like something the Trumpster might say. I can picture him holding court with the hoi polloi as he’s hitting the links, yukking it up with them about how the White House is nowhere near as nice as his digs down at Mar A Lago. And given that the president’s decorative tastes are said to lay somewhere between early 70s Graceland and Saddam Hussein’s various bachelor pads, it could just be that the more staid atmosphere of the executive residence just isn’t his particular cup of tea. I think the most likely explanation, however, is that he was just Rodney being Rodney–or Trump being Trump, in this case. He does have a certain touch with Joe Sixpack, and I’m quite sure that telling them the White House has all the charms of your average Motel 6 would have gotten him a lot of laughs.

Besides, can you imagine how steamed Hillary must’ve been when she read that?

Seems like a small price to pay for bringing such joy.

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