The British, as we know, have a well-deserved reputation for phlegmatic stoicism. So I was more than merely surprised when Smedley, a veteran economic and financial attaché at the Embassy of the United Kingdom here in Washington, suddenly blew up at me during our regular bimonthly consultation at my office on Friday afternoon, right in the middle of a very interesting and productive discussion of bilateral trade balances following a projected implementation of the Brexit.
“What’s the matter with you Americans?” he suddenly demanded, standing bolt upright, slamming his left hand down on my desk while gesturing with his right at the picture window behind the couch. “How could you put someone like… that… in the most powerful position in the entire world?”
“The most powerful position in the world, as we both know,” I corrected, “is the Chairman of the Federal Reserve Bank. You’re pointing at the White House.”
“Don’t split hairs with me!” Smedley angrily shot back. “You know what I’m talking about!”
“The president’s recent claims that GCHQ spied on him for Obama?” I surmised.
“Yes! Of course!” he huffed, resuming his seat in the chair at the front of my desk, crossing his arms defensively over his chest and raising his eyebrows in rage. “What else would it be? And how dare he?”
“He dares however he wants,” I replied with a shrug. “He always has, and that’s a major part of what made him such an amusing public buffoon for so many years.”
“Until he was elected president!” Smedley indignantly pointed out. “Then things became decidedly less amusing, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Decidedly more… interesting, perhaps,” I opined. “In the sense of the ancient honorable Chinese curse.”
“Hmph!” he responded, uncrossing his arms and leaning toward me. “This week, Trump triggered an international incident! Next month, next year, who knows? When his asinine antics start a nuclear war, will that be sufficiently interesting for you?”
“Well,” I agreed, “no doubt about it, if Trump manages to distinguish himself to that degree, I would have to concede it would be about as interesting as things could get, ancient honorable Chinese curse-wise.”
“Well,” he mocked, “I’m certainly glad to know that! But you haven’t answered my question, have you? What’s the matter with you Americans, anyway? How could you possibly put somebody like Donald Trump in the presidency in the first place?”
“Have you read de Tocqueville, by any chance?” I inquired.
“Him?” Smedley scoffed. “Bloody Frenchman, writing about America. Not the sort of thing they emphasize in the Oxford curricula, you know.”
“Of course not,” I dryly remarked. “But if you had, you would know that de Tocqueville noted that Americans will elect a great statesman to high office, then blithely follow him with the election of an incompetent, a fool or a scoundrel to that very same post, and make no great distinction between them.”
“I see,” Smedley muttered in disgust. “And I suppose that explains it?”
“As it was in 1832,” I affirmed, “so it is today.”
“Interesting. This begs the question, however,” Smedley observed, settling smugly back in his chair, “as to what, if anything, did Monsieur de Tocqueville bother to attribute this peculiarly American trait?”
“Two things,” I told him. “First, the United States Constitution, being constructed by geniuses, instituted a system that could readily survive its operation by a gang of idiots.”
“Rather fortunate, that,” Smedley commented with an ironic nod.
“Indeed.” I confirmed, continuing, “And secondly, Americans generally hold politicians in such contempt, they reckon the qualities of intelligence, erudition and moral rectitude to exert at best a minor, if not entirely insignificant influence on how those worthless whores are going to behave once they get into office.”
“Oh,” Smedley sniffed. “In other words, your entire government operates like the House of Commons. Makes me grateful to live in a monarchy, then.”
“I have no illusions,” I informed him, “that tongues are not wagging in Mayfair at this very moment, proclaiming that the election of Donald John Trump to the presidency of the United States of America constitutes irrefutable and final proof that the colonies could not, in the final analysis, govern themselves.”
“As well you shouldn’t,” Smedley smirked.
“But you must admit,” I proposed, “that it took two hundred and fifty-six years for the United States to produce a president as crazy as King George III.”
“Okay, okay,” he sighed with an air of resignation, “jolly good riposte, Collins. You’re a clever bloke, no doubt about it. But the way Trump’s behaving since he took office is absolutely unprecedented. How can America expect to share intelligence with Britain when he goes around asserting that GCHQ wiretapped him at Obama’s behest?”
“No doubt about it,” I noted, “he really got your goat, didn’t he? GCHQ hasn’t confirmed or denied anything in decades, but Trump’s blitherings had them roundly denouncing the accusations with a gusto you Brits usually reserve for disputed football and cricket calls. In my humble opinion, you folks are lucky Trump doesn’t know enough Shakespeare to have said ‘methinks they doth protest too much’ by now.
“He basically did,” Smedley groaned, “when he made that snide remark about having something in common with Angela Merkel! Tell me, Collins, how the hell can all this crap be justified?”
“Quotation marks,” I said.
A pregnant pause ensued. As last, he spoke. “What do you mean, ‘quotation marks?’” Smedley implored, completely perplexed.
“In two of his tweets pertaining to the issue,” I explained, “Donald Trump referenced the subject of wire taps and wire tapping inside quotation marks.”
For another long moment, Smedley’s brow knit in a tapestry of mystified contemplation, after which he could manage only a lonely monosyllable. “So?”
“So,” I elaborated, “today he explained that if reference to something is placed in quotation marks, then it doesn’t actually mean what it appears to say. In fact, if reference to something has been placed in quotation marks, as far as Donald Trump is concerned, it doesn’t actually have to mean anything at all. Consequently, for example, if the Department of Justice, the US intelligence community and / or Congress come up with nothing to substantiate Trump’s allegations that Obama wiretapped him and / or had the GCHQ help Obama do it, Trump can still say those things, since references to wire taps and wire tapping were previously placed within quotes.”
“And when,” Smedley sought to confirm, “did placing references to things within quote marks acquire this miraculous power, pray tell?”
“When the president of the United States did it,” I said.
“You’re telling me,” he challenged, “that’s all it takes – that the president of the United States does it?”
“There’s certainly ample precedent,” I told him. “When John Fitzgerald Kennedy delivered his inaugural speech outdoors with no hat, American men suddenly quit wearing hats outdoors the very next day, and to this very day, hats have yet to make a significant comeback. So, if the president of the United States determines that placing references to things inside of quotation marks transports them, in some real and palpable sense, completely outside of the known universe, then that’s the way it’s going to be in America from that point in time forward.”
“And you are saying” Smedley cautiously inquired, “that you or I, for instance, could do the same thing?”
“Yes,” I assured him, “of course – that’s exactly what I mean.”
“All right then,” he ventured, “in that case, I say that president Donald Trump is quote, ‘a pathological liar,’ unquote. How’s that?”
“Excellent,” I assessed.
“Then how about me saying that Donald Trump is quote, ‘a malignant narcissist,’ unquote; would that fall under the same standard?” he wondered.
“Naturally,” I confirmed.
“Then could I also say,” he pressed, “that Donald Trump quote, ‘sniffs little girl’s bicycle seats,’ unquote, and be within the constructs of this concept?”
“Smedley my friend,” I assured him, “you could say, ‘Donald Trump quote, “sniffs little boy’s bicycle seats,” unquote,’ and be within the confines of the concept’s constructs.”
“In that case then, I suppose I could say,” he pursued, “Donald Trump quote, ‘lusts after his own daughter,’ unquote, and do so with the same impunity Donald Trump himself assumes when applying this principle to accusations of wire taps by Obama and collusion in those wiretaps by my nation’s government?”
“You could,” I attested. “You – or I, or anyone else, for that matter – could say, ‘Donald Trump quote, “Dresses up in drag and fantasizes he is J. Edgar Hoover engaging in a homosexual orgy with Clyde Anderson Tolson in the firearms vault in the basement of the FBI building,” unquote,’ and be perfectly consistent with president Trump’s publicly promulgated concept of reality as expressed in his interpretation of written syntax with respect to the implications of quotation mark usage.”
“Then one, I suppose,” Smedley syllogized, “could say, ‘Donald Trump quote, “Regularly uses those absurdly long ties of his to engage in late-night bouts of autoerotic asphyxiation,” unquote,’ couldn’t one?”
“One could,” I concurred, “quite readily. In fact, one could also say, ‘Donald Trump quote, “Has licked the lint out of Vladimir Putin’s belly button,” unquote,’ and be perfectly within the limits of the interpretation of reality the president currently posits.”
“Or,” Smedley suggested, “a person could state, ‘Donald Trump quote, “Gets naked and crushes kittens with his feet in order to achieve physical arousal for conjugal purposes,” unquote,’ couldn’t they?”
“Indubitably,” I acknowledged. “They could also say, ‘Donald Trump quote, “Requires bondage and flagellation in order to achieve erotic consummation,” unquote.’”
“Accordingly,” Smedley speculated, “I suppose they could just as well say ‘Donald Trump quote, “Collects soiled women’s undergarments, which he sniffs during coitus in order to maintain his tumescence,” unquote.’”
“That they could,” I acceded. “For that matter, a person could state, ‘Donald Trump quote, “Manifests a wide spectrum of bizarre sexual fetishes, including uncontrollable fixations on malodorous suppurating wounds, rotting flesh, worms, sputum, foaming pus, maggots, discarded menstrual products, and shoes encrusted with dried canine excrement,” unquote.’”
“And of course,” Smedley concluded, “such a person could always just say, ‘Donald Trump quote, “Is a secret necrophiliac,” unquote,’ couldn’t they?”
“Yep,” I must admit, “given the president’s interpretation of quotation marks, there would be absolutely nothing to prevent them from doing so.”
“Well, in that case,” Smedley exclaimed with a grin, “I feel one hell of a lot better!”
“You should,” I told him. “After all, if anyone and everyone can use quotation marks the way president Trump does, what do Britain in general or GCHQ in particular have to be concerned about?”
“Why, nothing!” Smedley gleefully declared. “Thanks, old boy! Shall we get back to work?”
“Yes, let’s,” I replied.