Why I didn’t go to see the President

When the circus comes to town – go.

I always did. Never wanted to miss seeing the clowns, the contortionists and a possible glimpse of a traveling troupe of performing baboons. No matter how long the lines, how patient the wait, you can’t beat the hype, the noise, the excitement of the big show under the big top.

But last Thursday, I stayed home.

Ok, it wasn’t exactly the circus, though it did feature a whole menagerie of elephants. and it certainly can be argued the event promised no shortage of clowns, freaks and a jackass or two. And as for the star? Well, the featured performer’s reputation as literally unbelievable had well preceded him. It promised to be quite the event, enough to all but shut down the whole town of Rochester.

But I took a pass.

I’d been there. Done that.

When I was a kid, summer was great, save for one thing. Back in the days when ABC, NBC and CBS pretty much spelled TV, the great minds of broadcasting took a look at a pasty, winter pale audience and assumed that when the clocks sprung ahead for daylight time, they’d be springing from their sofas and armchairs, not to return to idiot-boxed entertainment with any degree of loyalty until well past Labor Day … so the summer re-run was born.

I never much cared for re-runs. Network TV was predictable enough as it was, but when from the opening credits you knew who the killer was, recalled the punch line of every joke, the timing of every gag, there was dang little to make for must-see TV.

And frankly, The Donald’s been in re-runs for more than two years.

He did a first run of his current material way back in June of ’15. Coming down the gilded elevator made for a real Vegas-y entrance and, frankly, what followed was like nothing ever seen before. Walls, rapists and all-manner of social dysfunction all wrapped up with glitter and a bow. It would be a hard act to follow.

But he took the act on the road, and, taking a tip from Triumph, the Insult Comic Dog, kept the patter fresh with the personal put-down of the week. Folks tuned in just to see who would be christened Cheatin’. Lyin’ or Crooked. Yeah, it was fun while it lasted.

And when The Donald brought his traveling salvation show to the La Crosse Civic Center I replied to the email, got the tickets, stood in line and stayed for the whole show. Even picked up some merch from a couple of sleazy vendors on the way out – my bright red MAGA cap’s hangin’ on the rack right now – tag still dangling from the sweat band.

As political theater goes, it wasn’t a bad show. Didn’t touch George Wallace in ’72 for laugh lines and venom, but Trump sure left Dubya’s arena show looking pretty Branson-esque and predicable.

Trouble is, he never updated the act.

I guess he figured if he could nurse better than a decade’s worth of network ratings out of  barking “You’re fired!”, “Build the wall!” would have the same staying power. Trouble is, despite giving Omorosa a new contract and playing on the world’s biggest stage, after two summers in re-runs, the old episodes are getting a bit shopworn. By now we know the folks back in the media pen are enemies of the people; we know that everything, everywhere is bigger, better, and way more impressive than ever before; we know that pretty soon now we’re going to be really tired of winning.

And yeah, he’s still drawing crowds. There are lots of folks who haven’t been there to see the show; get frisked by security; pick up an insulting t-shirt and realize, yeah, he really does wear his hair like that…

But like a visit to the old freak show tent or a tour of the house of horrors, once is enough. It’s fake and it’s ugly and the dog-and-pony show just isn’t that impressive.

It surely isn’t the greatest show on earth.