SHIT IN MY POCKET – Trump's Defilement of My Passport

People’s likenesses are more than keepsakes or identifiers; they're symbols. Seeing them re-
minds us of everything we’ve experienced in those people’s presence. Their kindness, intel-
ligence, spirit… That’s why we frame their faces for our mantles and stuff them in our wallets. 
We do this as an act of love and respect.

This is why I’m appalled at the prospect, reported in yesterday’s Minnesota Star Tribune, of Donald Trump’s “stern visage” being smeared on the next edition of U.S. passports.  

IMAGE: The White House

                It's right out of the playbooks of Mussolini, 
                Stalin, Hitler, Mao and Kim.

The thought of having to carry an image of this monster on my person disgusts me. What it represents is neither love nor respect. It’s not kindness, intelligence or spirit. It’s conceit, purposeful ignorance, vengeance, dishonesty, corruption, ruthlessness, cowardice… and let’s not forget perversion. 

PHOTO: The Wall Street Journal

And I have to tote that in my back pocket as 
I travel? Present his image alongside mine 
to folks in other countries as proof of my citizenship in the country he’s made the laughing stock of the world?

SLEIGHT OF BRAND
The man’s already got his gaudy signature on our currency—so I can remember him when I fork over $80 for a tank of gas or $100 for a bag of groceries. His precious brand already defiles many other proud American institutions: The Kennedy Center, the U.S. Institute of Peace, a class of U.S. Navy battleships, highways and bridges, National Parks passes…

And this is just the beginning, folks. Mark my words. He’s already got his people working on the next step in this classic-fascist self-aggrandizement: ordering his portrait be displayed in every American home. Your home. And to enforce the demand: encouraging your friends and neighbors to inform on you if you dare refuse.

PHOTO: Getty Images

It's right out of the playbooks of Mussolini, Stalin, Hitler, Mao and Kim. 

So what’s one to do? With no chance of acting out my ultimate fantasy— meeting the guy all alone in a dark alley—at least I can stick it to his image. With nothing more than a little piece of that mirror-like foil tape often used in HVAC instead of duct tape. 

That way, when I glance at my passport I’ll see a likeness of who should be reflected in the cherished institutions of this great American Democracy: myself.