The Yellow Brick Road passes through the Land of Oz and the Forest of Bloomenwald. It’s not made of one piece, but of a million parts. No individual owns the Yellow Brick Road, yet one can take possession of what’s at its end. Perhaps the yellow is reminiscent of gold, making it a road of potential promise, richness, fullness. Both roads lead through hazards tending to forgetfulness induced by fields of poppies or woods of psychedelics. Consequently a traveler however strong, courageous, and true might very well not complete his or her journey due to the very calming nature of sleep or an ecstacy laced high.
As the first story known as The Wonderful Wizard of Oz goes, Donald Trump rescued the Tea Party from a very mean woman, rode the famous twister, and landed the business end of Trump Power on the Wicked Washington of the East, DC, that is. There he met up with some very small people who had no desire to join his venture on the Yellow Brick Road. Nonetheless they merrily slapped Trump on his backside and sent him on his way, the Tea Party joyfully wagging its tail behind them. Even yellow brick roads have intersections, choices of one way or another to go. As chance would have it at the moment of his very first decision of import, the repeal and replacement of Obamacare, the President found a brainless, heartless strawman quite willing to help him decide which way to go. Paul Ryan said, “This way.” And away they went.
The two of them with Tea Party on leash soon happened upon a tin woodman, also brainless and heartless with axe raised high, at the ready as luck would have it for the next large challenge Trump would meet along the path. After an oiling and freeing up of the tinman’s rusted joints he explained what had made him heartless, so empty of love. Of course Trump realized right away both the strawman and tinman lacked brain and heart, yet pondered for a long time how each seemed concerned only about one or the other, how they either believed heart essential and brain of no consequence or the other way around. So Trump accompanied by Ryan in search of a brain only, and Reince Priebus in search of a heart only continued on their ill-fated attempt to repeal and replace Obamacare.
As we all know the party was not complete until they chanced upon the cowardly lion: which we know as all those ungrateful beneficiaries of Trump’s voter’s largesse, who gave their all to elect a Republican House the first time, a Republican Senate the next time, and a Republican President last time, all so Republicans could keep their repeated promises to repeal and replace Obamacare. Curiously enough the lion had brains and heart, but put them to no good use because he had been so terribly abused as a child, ...or some other lame excuse.
As the second Yellow Brick Road story titled Child of Fortune goes a young Donald Trump, perhaps this story should have been told first, set out on his wanderjahr as was customary in preparation for adulthood on the planet Glad. At the end of his journey was the selection of a freenom and a lifetime occupation most suited to him. For he was not always known by his freenom: The Donald. Long before his given name was Moussa, possibly derived from Moses, but of an Arabic source meaning: “drawn from the swamp” or “above the swamp.” Who should he come upon first in his travels? Pater Pan on the planet Edoku, leader of the Establishment Gypsy Jokers. We know of him by many names (for Pan is all inclusive): Bill Clinton, Hillary Clinton, Harry Reid, Nancy Pelosi, John Boehner, Paul Ryan, Mitch McConnell, Chuck Schumer, the list goes on….
Pater was quite the story teller and did much to prepare Trump, Pater devotedly called him Sunshine, for the next planet of his wanderjahr called Belshazar: home to the Forest of Bloomenwald and the Yellow Brick Road. The forest, we might know of it as Manhattan, was known for its psychedelics, for taking possession of its travelers, keeping them high, never letting them go. For the forest had no natural means of “pollinating” its various ventures and projects except by those it deceptively held captive.
Eventually, after much "time a'wasting," sweeping away the ground clutter in a moment of rare awareness Trump discovered the bricks that would lead the way out. Realizing he had leadership qualities he left Manhattan behind, not all by himself, but with many by his side. Hence his first story upon acceptance of his party’s nomination to be President of the United States, his tales of disgust with the politicians he had dealt with for so many years, a story known to some as, The Pied Piper of Manhattan. Whereupon having escaped the swamp themselves, The Donald and all lighted atop the quite prone, lifeless, still corpse of Washington, DC that is.
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About The Pundit
This retired window washer now provides instruction on the benefits and perils of time travel through focusing an allegorical lens on the present.