Just let Donald Trump keep the jacket with the spangled epaulets for now. He would surely look as good as the late Muammar Gaddafi, once did, or Saddam Hussein. Both were dictators installed, at one point in history, by the leaders of the Banana Republican Party.
They could also dress up The Donald in military fatigues like Manuel Noriega and all those other Banana Republican dictators marching around in army gear like overgrown children.
Donald Trump will surely try to make the spangled shoulder jacket look good. He can hang his newly-earned Purple Heart medal for valor on the front. “I’ve always wanted one of these,” he can say, glancing down at the Emperor’s New Clothes. It’s just like a scene from the end of the Wizard of Oz. It’s so easy.
This is what the Republican Party has become. A Banana Republic built around appearances, not substance. Gone are the days of Dwight D. Eisenhower, who warned us to dissolve the military-industrial complex before it consumed our nation. Too bad. Too late. The military-obsessed leaders of the Banana Republican Party are so deep in guns they can’t even get out the side door of the compound. While locked in that backroom with all their weapons, a stooge named Donald Trump walked in the side door, found a spangled jacket that fit him in the front room and went walking out on the balcony where the masses waiting to hear the results of the coup gathered in furious rage to meet their new leader. And when The Donald emerged on that balcony, and the crowd below started to cheer, the Banana Republican leaders in the back room of the compound stood there with wide eyes asking, “What the fuck is happening out there?”
That’s how it works in a banana republic. You can’t always predict who’s going to come into power. Now the leaders of the Banana Republicans are left screaming at each in the backrooms, shaking weapons over their heads and screaming about yet another coup because that’s the only way they can Take Back America. But first, they have to figure out what to do about The Donald. Do they simply shoot him in the head, the way they shot John F. Kennedy?
That’s how it’s been ever since the communist-hating zealots of a conservative bent formed the CIA to create a shadow government funded by money from the Nazi-loving Bush family. The whole thing is run by graduates of those overheated Skull & Bones Society jungle lords, whose dark ranks came out to put a hit on the Kennedy brothers and cover it all up. That fake story never really added up. It would require the hapless shooter in the Book Depository to curl bullets from the back around front to strike the President’s skull. Well, perhaps that’s just the Jungle Voodoo of the Banana Republicans at work. But it’s a lie, and America still needs to call it what it is. The work of Banana Republicans.
Power has a peel
The Banana Republicans don’t believe in any power but their own, and they’re unafraid to think big. They tried under Reagan to pull off the big Iran-Contra coup (and a few others) to prop up a banana republic of choice. But they got caught, and people went to jail. Yet men like Oliver North got out of jail to go give speeches at Christian organizations about how he was moved by a power higher than the law to act as he did.
And members of the Banana Republican Party cheered him on. Because the men on the balcony always look so dashing in their uniforms when they give their speeches with clenched fists and jaws. What’s not to like?
That’s how Banana Republicans operate. There is always some “higher cause” they claim to represent while they murder and launder money from dollars to Euros to pesos to drugs. It’s all the same capital to them. They build up forces in the sweaty jungles of Congressional backrooms and change the Rules of Order in government to suit their needs.
It’s like a Jungle Parade. Newt Gingrich. Tom Delay. Paul Ryan. All smiling dictators whose belief systems formed from twisted versions of thoughts from leaders in history and literature, good or bad. That’s the method of Banana Republicans, who have drawn inspiration in works ranging from The Holy Bible to Mein Kampf. With no distinction, as a rule.
Their conscience evaporates in the process of trying to reconcile these disparate ideologies. Their only real concern, in the end, is gaining power and wealth.
And those instincts are so closely tied to their typically repressed sexual fervor they cannot seem to contain themslves when faced with fleshly temptations, because those are so immediate and gratifying.
That’s why the likes of Dennis Hastert wound up playing pocket pool with young boys in the backwoods of tiny Yorkville, Illinois. And why Newt Gingrich and Donald Trump have traded in wives faster than they have traded ambitions. They see their conquests no differently than a Sandanista roaring through the pitted jungle roads, mashing frogs and perhaps a few young children as they go. This is the price of progress, they say. They hide dark secrets about young girls raped over pool tables in sweaty, smoke-filled rooms, and slap each other on the backs about getting away with it. “Gave her the old Banana that time, didn’t we?”
And we must throw Bill Clinton into this bunch as well. He was a Banana Republican in some senses, shifting jobs to Mexico through NAFTA in collaboration with the Banana Republicans controlling Congress in his day. And he certainly slipped a few gals the Old Banana.
And when authorities track them rumors get back to the Banana Republican compound, we too often young girls wait chained to the walls for entertainment and sweaty fervor. But the Banana Republican world loves to hide dark secrets about young girls raped over pool tables in smoke-filled rooms. And when finished, they slap each other on the backs about the mercies of getting away with it. “Gave her the Old Banana that time, didn’t we?” How appealing it all seems at the time.
Until you get caught
At this moment there are swirling tales lurking about the likes of Donald Trump having his way with young women. Sexual scandals and politics go hand in hand, so to speak. But The Donald doesn’t even need backroom rape in his dossiere to prove himself a Banana Republican brute. He’s publicly lusted after his own daughter, fawning over her on the balcony while his cheering, leering supporters shout support from below.
But let’s admit something up front. The Donald is actually only the peel of the banana when it comes to Banana Republicans. He’ll likely to be soon be tossed aside by the real organizers of the hopeless coup that once prided itself on the name Grand Old Party. Well, it’s old, and perhaps can’t get it up any longer, but that hasn’t stopped the GOP from trying repeatedly to rape the country. From Reaganomics through the last Bush administration, middle-class America has been raped and pillaged for its net worth. All that money migrated to the top 1%, to the Dictators, in other words, who happily flick cigar ashes down on the crowd and call it Trickle Down Economics. Welcome to the Banana Republic of the GOP. Don’t slip on those banana peels.
Cigars, cigarettes, Tiparillos?
Behind the scenes, the real power behind the Banana Republican Party is in an angry panic right now. They’ve taken up smoking principally to calm their nerves. But every time they mistakenly allow a piece of freshly lit Banana Republican tobacco to flutter off the balcony, new ground fires come roaring back. The whole compound might soon go up in smoke.
The cheering they once heard outside the walls of the Republican Compound are at becoming desperate, angry and afraid. Their hero Donald Trump seems to be struggling to bear the weight of his own dandy epaulets.
Now whispers of another Big Coup are floating about. But let us recall that the last Big Coup occurred with the support of those Banana Republicans on the Kangaroo Supreme Court, who installed Bush and Cheney, which turned into a massive failure from which the Jungle Party has been trying to recover for eight long years. This failed coup drives them coconuts, and they keep blaming it on the natives, who they despise. It make them really nuts that one of hated tribe has had control of the Republica they once claimed is their own. Remember, the “white house” is supposed to be the center of the Banana Republican Compound. As Michelle Obama so recently noted, it was erected on the backs of the very natives that now occupy the place. This makes Banana Republicans sweat blood at the thought.
But this is how things work when a nasty little thing like democracy, equality and civil rights get a foothold. The “colored people” that the Banana Republicans so squeamishly avoid and spit on when from the balconies are supposedly beneath this station. Banana Republicans would rather just herd them all up and put them in pens and throw them bananas. It is the belief among so many that the natives are not much better than the monkeys living in the trees. Banana Republicans preach this in their schools hosted in concrete wall buildings on the outskirts of the Banana Republican compound.
How telling it is, perhaps, that these same Banana Republicans cannot believe that human beings descended from other apes. They love to rule the jungle and stand on their balconies with spangly jackets. But they cannot conceive that the steamy jungle in their minds is far more dark and dangerous place than the real thing.
And The Donald is the perfect symbol of all that. The Banana Republican Party is just how it appears: mean, nasty and afraid of the very people it claims to represent.