'The Enemas From Within'?
An imagined letter from a fervent MAGA supporter worried about Trump's latest bugbear, 'the enemy from within'
Dear President Trump,
I believe you always know best. I mean, I think I’m stable, but I’m no genius, so I’m certainly not trying to second-guess you. Still, as a red-hat-wearing, certified MAGA maniac (I even have a pair of the $399 Never Surrender High-Tops you’ve been selling, though they gave me a blister), I’m starting to get a little worried.
The town hall last Monday when you stopped answering questions and made the crowd listen to your playlist for more than a half-hour didn’t faze me a bit. Hey, I know how hard you’re working for white Americans like me, and everybody deserves a little downtime, even if it is in the middle of a campaign appearance.
And so what if you sent your bud Vladie some Covid tests during the phony pandemic. I’m sure that at first he got as freaked as the rest of us with all the scaremongering by Chicken Little Fauci.
But I am concerned that the “enemy from within” stuff you rolled out last Sunday on Fox might be sending the wrong message this late in the campaign.
Like a lot of your supporters here in Wisconsin, I’m a geezer of about your vintage (though not nearly as fit and vigorous as you are) and can remember that when I was a kid, our Republican senator – the late Joe McCarthy – used the line “the enemy within” to describe all the commies he was trying his damnedest to root out of the government.
I know you have gotten a lot of mileage by repurposing taglines from the past. Ronald Reagan wasn’t nearly as successful with his “Let’s Make America Great Again” slogan as you’ve been by dropping the “Let’s.” That was genius. But you might want to be careful with this one.
When McCarthy first came up with that phrase back in 1950, it catapulted him to prominence and set off a tail-gunner barrage of accusations as he began trying to uncover Soviet Union sympathizers in the State Department, the U.S. Army, and elsewhere in the Washington sewer. Now I’m no historian, but if memory serves, Joe’s hearings and litany of unfounded attacks ultimately ended badly after he was revealed to have played fast and loose with the truth.
You’re no Joe, of course. He had a booze problem, was rumored to be a closeted gay even though he also went after “homosexuals” who had infiltrated the federal bureaucracy, and died a broken man after being shunned by Senate colleagues.
Oh, sure, I know that disgusting hatchet job of a movie, The Apprentice, tried to make out like Roy Cohn, McCarthy’s close confederate and another self-denying gay blade, taught you everything you know.
Hah! That’s rich and shows what idiots these liberal filmmakers are if they think we’re going to swallow such swill.
(It is kind of a weird twist that the original Bobby Kennedy worked for McCarthy, too, and now his son is on your team. Small world at the top, I guess.)
Anyway, when you say “the enemy from within,” I know you’re not talking about Russian spies because you seem to have a soft spot for Putin, and as you said, could have stopped him from raining hellfire down on those Biden crooks in Ukraine if you had been in charge.
Still, while I don’t want to disparage the intelligence of my countrymen, especially my fellow Wisconsin Cheese-Heads, some people who are not paying enough attention might think that you, too, are planning to chase imaginary commies in Washington when you’re running our Republic again. And since poor McCarthy in the end turned out to be a drunken liar without a shred of decency, they could get the wrong idea about you.
Believe me, I am well aware that you’re not into hooch, at least not since your brother Fred drank himself to death. And I had to chuckle when The Apprentice scurrilously portrayed you as popping speeders, dexi, or what truckers used to call “LA turnarounds.” I guess these days, they’d be Adderall or Vyvanse or other medications that give you endless energy on just a few hours’ sleep and make you think you know everything.
Anyway, like you said on Fox, it’s the “lunatics we have inside” who you want to trap and release to some other country (maybe with the help of the military) – people who hate America and have crossed you. But you might want to make it clearer that your targets will be those who disagree with you or who have turned on you, not the phantom Reds that McCarthy imagined were hiding in State Department desk wells.
Instead of “the enemy from within,” it could be “America’s frenemies” – you know, fake patriots. Or “the enemas from within,” like that’s what’s needed to clean them out. Or “the enemies from anywhere blue,” which would make people think of the millions of radical-lefties you will turn into a reverse immigration wave.
Figuring out how to best tag the evil-doers you will ferret out once you are comfortably back in the Oval Office is, of course, above my pay grade. I am merely one of your loyal troopers and mean no disrespect by this missive.
I just don’t want anyone to not vote for you because they think you come across as some latter-day Joe McCarthy, a guy who wasn’t just unhinged but half-bald.
With best wishes and trust in your success on November 5,
Otis Olson
Oshkosh, Wis.
The Awful & Odious
Bret Bared
The Fox News interview of Vice-President Kamala Harris on Wednesday evening was revealing on multiple levels. It demonstrated, for example, that this late in the campaign, the Harris camp still has not figured out how its candidate can gracefully distance herself from some of the decisions of the Biden Administration. She becomes uncomfortable when asked what she might have done differently and reverts to nonlinear attack mode.
Granted, such queries put her on a no-win hot seat. If she talks about how she might have handled the disastrous withdrawal from Afghanistan, for example, she comes off as disloyal to the man who put her in the Situation Room. If she reaffirms her blanket support of Joe Biden’s tenure at the top, she is seen as same-o, same-o.
But from the physical structure of the interview to the hostile tone and demeanor of the host, Bret Baier, Fox exceeded all cankerous expectations. Baier seemed to loom over Harris in a too-close setup designed to make the Veep look vulnerable, and he rarely took a break from going after her.
Baier was once considered one of Fox’s fairer news anchors, along with Shep Smith and Chris Wallace, both long gone from News Corp headquarters in New York. But that too-kind perception was buried for good as Baier attempted quite unsuccessfully to manhandle Harris.
On Thursday he did have the decency to admit that he meant to show Harris two clips when he asked about Trump’s “enemy from within” comments.
Baier said a segment from Sunday Morning Futures with Maria Bartiromo was left out. In it, Trump said, “The bigger problem is the enemy from within, not even the people that have come in and destroyed our country.”
Instead, Harris was shown only a clip from an all-women Fox town hall packed with GOP supporters in which Trump claimed, “I’m not threatening anybody.”
Harris immediately called out Baier for not running Trump’s original words, and that was revealing, too. In hostile territory with an in-your-face anchor jabbing at her, she was quick-witted and combat-ready.
The Wondrous & Wonderful
This is a fabulous recording from a 1954 CBS radio show in which Joe McCarthy dies in a plane crash, wakes up at the Pearly Gates, and begins investigating historical figures whom he wants sent from Heaven to “down there” for treasonous behavior. The threatening attitude of McCarthy sounds eerily familiar, and while his interrogations are highly amusing, they may portend the frightening future we could face.
Lawn sign of the week.
My Book Report
By Deidre Depke
A River Runs Through It
It takes a while to figure out what Louise Erdrich is writing about in her new novel, The Mighty Red.
Set in the Red River Valley farm community of North Dakota, Erdrich’s book at first seems to be a story of young love and familiar unraveling set against the backdrop of 2008’s financial crisis. At its center are Kismet and Gary, high schoolers who somewhat inexplicably marry right after graduation and move to Gary’s family farm.
Kismet’s mother, Crystal, unsurprisingly, is dismayed by her daughter’s choice. She had been saving her salary as a driver hauling local harvests for agricultural processing to fund Kismet’s college education and her escape from a rural life with little upward mobility.
Gary’s mother, Winnie, on the other hand, is so thrilled by the match that she pays for the wedding (a two-reception event) and builds the newlyweds a spacious house across the hedges from her own. She is convinced that Kismet is a sort of guardian angel, someone who can repair the damage done to her family by a tragedy involving her son and his high-school buddies. (Angels and ghosts make appearances throughout the novel — the residents of Red River Valley have a healthy respect for the powers of spirit people.)
Kismet herself is a little surprised by the marriage. She loves another boy and isn’t sure why she accepted Gary’s proposal in the first place, or how she found herself walking down the aisle of the town’s Catholic church.
Kismet’s take:
“It had probably been a fabulous wedding, if only she hadn’t been the bride.”
There’s plenty more to this page-turner — financial embezzlement, lost love, the aforementioned tragedy. If you’re a junkie for strong narratives, Erdrich is more than up to the challenge of writing one.
But as you read on, the author’s actual intent slowly takes shape. This is a novel about climate change, about the havoc wrought by pesticides and processed food, about the death of the family farm, about the American class system.
“Crystal made bread from scratch, not because it was artisanal but because it was cheaper…Crystal and Kismet had come to know on some level that they were the real Americans — the rattled, scratching, always-in-debt Americans.”
The local crop is sugar beets, the raw ingredient from which white sugar is made. Because of America’s insatiable addiction to the stuff, the tyranny of the agri-industrial complex, and the contracted demands of processed-food giants, Red River farmers have converted fields that once grew wheat, corn, potatoes, soy, and flax into sugar-making crops. Erdrich doesn’t mince words about the sweetened reality of America’s heartland.
“Into every teaspoon is mixed the pragmatic nihilism of industrial sugar farming and the death of our place on earth. This is the sweetness that pricks people’s senses and sparkles in a birthday cake and glitters on the tongue. Price guaranteed, delicious, a craving as strong as love.”
Erdrich is a member of the Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa of North Dakota, a tribe of the Ojibwe people, and she’s known for her novels, poems, and children’s books centered around Native American themes. In 2021 she won the Pulitzer for “The Night Watchman,” a story about U.S. policy from the 1940s to 1960s designed to terminate the rights of Natives.
Red River is personal for her. In the forward to the book, Erdrich pays homage to the valley.
“The river is changeable, a slow and sleepy trickle in summer, rampaging like a violent toddler in spring, when it sweeps across the land reflecting the sky like its mother — a vast prehistoric lake. Over millennia, the waters have given the Red River Valley earth its blackness, its life. This river is shallow, it is deep, I grew up there, it is everything.”
Red River takes on Native American themes, though less directly than in her earlier work. This North Dakota land was stolen from the Dakota, the Ojibwe, and the Metis by forced treaties. But Erdrich’s concern in this novel is what happened a century later, when U.S. policy nearly destroyed the family farms that had been built on the land, in particular the Reagan Administration’s decision to renege on Farm Home Administration loans.
Calling in those loans created an epidemic of foreclosures and gave rise to the mega farms owned by giant corporations. (Remember Farm Aid? The 1985 concert meant to help struggling farmers? That festival has become an annual event; there are many, many American family farmers still in need of aid to survive.)
The Mighty Red dishes out its message with a side of sly wit. The owner of an independent bookstore in Minnesota, Birchbark Books, Erdrich takes a few swipes at book clubs: Red River’s members are more concerned about their competing covered dishes than the books they may or may not have read. Kismet’s husband Gary is a tragic figure, paralyzed by fear and terrorized by a ghost. But he’s also a simple-minded doofus — a caricature of the handsome former high-school football star.
“Kismet, I don’t believe in aliens anymore.’
“Really, what about waves causing diseases?’
“Actually, I said microwaves and the studies show—'
“You read studies?’
“Of course, yes, or I hear people say that studies reveal this or that.’”
I guess I was a little surprised by The Mighty Red. I picked it up because it was a new novel by an important American writer. I didn’t expect to love it. But I do.
This is a surprisingly tender story coupled with a call to arms about our food supply and the imperiled state of America’s farmers. Erdrich’s ending offers some hope, but a successful outcome for farmers and the environment is hardly assured. Personally, I’ll never eat processed food made from white sugar again without feeling really, really guilty about it.
**If you’re interested in novels on the subject, The New York Public Library has put together a very good list of compelling fiction about climate change.
Dump, The Musical
From now until November 5, The Constant Tribune will feature excerpts from a musical about the Election of 2016 and its aftermath. Some scenes include songs from an album available on Spotify.* For previous scenes, see earlier issues of TCT, starting with the newsletter of September 12.
Act Two, Scene One
Six months have passed since the Election of 2016, and it’s early, early morning in the Lincoln Bedroom. As President Dump rises, clicks the on TV remote, and swings on a robe, he sends an empty Diet Coke can skittering across the floor. There is a knock on the door.
Dump What is it?
A Secret Service agent, young and Black, pokes his head in.
Agent Everything okay, Mr. President?
Dump Fine, fine. In fact, it could not be better. Got the night shift, huh?
Agent Yes, sir. Glad everything is okay. Sorry to interrupt.
Dump Hey, wait a minute. Where’s the regular guy, Roy?
Agent I’m filling in, Mr. President. Roy developed a spur in his foot.
Dump Yeah, I hear that can smart. And you’re.…
Agent Agent Carmichael, sir. Malcolm Carmichael.
Dump So let me ask you something, Agent Carmichael. Are your people happy with what I’ve been doing for them?
Agent My people? I’m here to protect you and all the people, sir.
Dump Sure, sure, I know that. But you know what I mean. Your people must be pleased. Kanye came to me. You know Kanye?
Agent Yes, sir.
Dump Good guy. Very rough treatment by the media. Known Kanye and Kim for a long time and they begged me to release this woman, Alice, down in Texas. Twenty five years for pot. I’ve never tried it. You ever puff the stuff?
Agent No, sir. We get drug-tested. I’m a beer guy.
Dump Kim was begging. That’s hard to turn down. Kim on her knees. So I signed the pardon. They were very happy. Alice was very happy. A lot of the Black leaders were happy. Even Al Sharpton. You know Al?
Agent Yes, sir. I know of Reverend Sharpton.
Dump Did some work for me back in New York. Looked better when he was fat. Like the other Al, the weather guy.
Agent Al Roker?
Dump Right. Roker. When you’re that fat and you lose a lot of weight, you look like a foreskin. A lot of people in New York don’t know what a foreskin looks like. They’re Jewish. Never seen one. But even Al, I mean Al the preacher, even he was happy.
Agent That’s good, sir. I’ll be right outside.
As Agent Carmichael closes one door, Fellania comes in from an adjoining bedroom.
Dump You know this place is like three stars, but I like the security.
Fellania Ronald, it’s five o’clock in the morning and you’re watching TV. What is even on at this hour?
Dump I’m the leader of the free world, Fellania. I can’t afford to let my guard down. The fake media, the nasty Democrats, they’re still trying to overturn the election. There are even traitors in the party, like Mitt the Mormon.
Fellania Ronald, please. He’s a nice man.
Dump He has a lot of relatives in Mexico, Mitt. They went down there a long time ago because nobody cares south of the border how many wives you have, how many times you reproduce. Who cares. One more taco on the table. Doesn’t matter.
Fellania You must sleep. You need your rest.
Dump There are even traitors in the Cabinet, on my staff. All the generals I’ve brought in. They were going nowhere. Waiting for that military pension even though they’ve lost a lot of wars. Many wars. I’ve been very good to the generals, but now I’m not sure they have my back.
Fellania Ronald, they are behind you.
Dump I made General Murphy chief of staff. Now he’s trying to control me like I’m one of his privates.
Fellania You have to be more presidential. So many have dedicated their lives to the country. Some even wounded in battle. You cannot expect them to hop around like the gofer people at Dump Tower.
Dump I know, I know, they have lots of little medals that they got in Vietnam and Iraq and other places where we lost. We lost, but they were still getting paid. When you lose, you’re a loser. Most of the time when you lose, you don’t get paid, you don’t get a medal.
Fellania It’s not the same. They did their duty. They sacrificed. That’s why they got the medals. Now I am going back to bed at least until the sun comes up.
Dump Losers. Total losers. They think they can control me, but they can’t. Nobody controls Dump.
Act Two, Scene Two
The White House Briefing Room. Late morning. New Press Secretary Sarah Boysenberry Panda is running her first briefing and after the Dump Administration’s rocky start, the Fourth Estate smells blood.
*Songs performed by Tari Kelly and Mike McGowan
TO BE CONTINUED