Donald Trump’s prison
Well, well, well. The criminal has spoken! And what he’s saying is causing lots of raised eyebrows. Donald John Trump has demanded cameras in the courtroom. Trump’s attorney wants cameras in the courtroom, should Trump be indicted for charges stemming from January 6.
His lawyer John Lauro even said so, saying he’d ask the Judge that cameras be allowed. We predicted this. Here’s the thing. And I want to emphasize it. Trump is not on his way to prison; he’s ALREADY in prison.
This is a metaphorical prison, with Mar–a Lago being his cage. And his deprivation? Attention. The camera. It is his lifeblood. Right now, Trump is in exile — banished to his gigantic but soullessly empty cage — his home, where the appearances of visitors are few.
And he aches for it. The people. The attention. Trump lives in this lavish cage, pretty much alone, these days. There are few knocks on the door. His cage maybe luxurious, but it’s still a prison nonetheless.
It has style but no substance. It has no love. The halls of his prison are usually empty. Few footsteps echo in various rooms. The few left who do flatter him only want something in return.
It is a golden cage — a silent cage — a cage bereft of worship — worship for Donald Trump. So no, this does not surprise us in the least. Trump’s true love, his soulmate, has always been himself.
Like the youth Narcissus himself, who gazed fixedly at his own reflection in the water, so too does Trump. His love, his life, the only thing that motivates him, is his own tarnished reflection of times gone by.
The image calls to him, teases him, and so yes, he would want cameras, no matter how badly the trial was going. He’d want to see and to be seen. Because for this lonely, unmoored, insane, pathetic child of Narcissus, this is all that can ever matter to him.
