POPULAR WISDOM says Americans vote for presidential candidates whom they’d like to have a beer with. That explains how easygoing George W. Bush beat stiff John Kerry in 2004.
Maybe there’s some truth to the adage, but, then again, Bush was a teetotaler who invaded the wrong country, so: Bad way to choose a president.
Which brings me to Donald Trump, also a teetotaler. Last fall, the current leader for the GOP nomination came in first in an NBC News poll that asked: Which Republican presidential candidate would you most want to have a drink with?
First, 47 percent of those surveyed said, “None of them.”
But the point is, more people would rather belly up to a bar and share drinks with Trump than with Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz, John Kasich or even any of the Republicans who dropped out of the race.
What is America thinking? Hoisting pints with Trump would be a nightmare, for a number of reasons:
He’s a lousy wing man
Out for a night of drinks with your pal, you want support and friendship, not name-calling and threats from a bully.
Hang around with a guy with his kind of mouth, and you’ll quickly find yourself getting dragged into a back-alley fistfight.
And how will you meet attractive new mates when he’s by your side, calling them losers? For Trump, the “The Art of the Deal” is the same as the despicable art of negging, the insulting pickup technique that works only on those with low self-esteem.
Including, apparently, Chris Christie.
Doesn’t pay his bar bill
Forget about Trump springing for an occasional round of drinks – that’s socialism. Worse, the cheap bastard won’t even bother paying his share of the tab.
Remember: Trump is a deadbeat whose companies have filed for bankruptcy four times, leaving mountains in debt as he went on his merry way.
In a bar, he’s the one ordering bottles of Dom while you’re nursing a beer. Then, when it comes time to settle up, he’s out the door, stiffing the waitress and leaving you, you poor chump, to cover the check.
And he’ll be back the next night, pulling the same stunt.
Too much drunk talk
If you heard it in a bar, you’d assume Trump’s bile was coming from the cankerous mouth of that rum-soaked derelict who just fell off his stool. Seriously – read, or slur, a few of his gems out loud:
- “I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue [belch] and shoot somebody and I wouldn’t lose any voters, [hic] OK?”
- “The beauty of me [places arm around your shoulder[ is that I’m very [breathes in your face] rich.”
- “If Ivanka weren’t my daughter, [pauses too long] perhaps I’d be dating her.”
- “They’re bringing drugs. They bring crime. They’re rapists … And some, [just after a Mexican gives him a dirty look] I assume [quickly making his exit] are good people.
He’s a blowhard
The beauty of bars is they bring together a diverse population. We can root for different teams, wear different clothes, speak different languages, hold different opinions. We can look, act and love differently.
Yet we’re equals, seated side-by-side with a glass of social lubricant in front of us. We don’t insult each other, we find a common ground and, importantly, we listen.
Not Trump. The man is a xenophobe who cannot comport himself in a civil manner on a national stage; you think he can hold his mouth in a barroom? You may agree with many of the things he says, but you’ll spend the whole night shushing him.
Eats pizza with a knife & fork
Remember that scene in It’s a Wonderful Life when George Bailey winces as Clarence asks Nick the gruff bartender for a mulled wine (heavy on the cinnamon and light on the cloves)? The two of them are quickly dispatched, face-first, into the snow.
Same thing happens when you’re unlucky enough to be sitting next to Trump, a short-fingered vulgarian who demands utensils for his pepperoni and double cheese.
Trump is out of place in a bar, slumming with losers, and you are guilty by association.
Or as Nick said, “Out you go . . . through the door or out the window.”