Call him forty-five.
I wish I could take credit for this suggestion, but I can’t.
A former co-worker made the suggestion, as a coping mechanism. He said you-know-who is not worthy of a name. It is brilliant and empowering at a time when many of us feel overwhelmed as we watch the daily antics of the current resident of the oval office and his creepy mates.
I have never quite been able to bring myself to say “President” Trump. I get an icky feeling of self-recrimination for denigrating the office of the presidency. A nom de plume is the perfect solution for the unspeakable one. I’ve exhausted my supply of expletives and adjectives, many that one should never utter in polite society or in print.
A number is more than he deserves.
Let’s embark on a national campaign to substitute “Forty-Five” for the “T” word. Think of the humiliation for a man who considers himself a branding expert. For one who behaves like a spoiled child, this might have the same effect as a “time-out”.
I wondered what happen if we refused to write, comment or speak about the twittering nitwit. But—-he provides too much material. And—the other thing is, if we don’t give voice to our anxiety we will burst.
Forty-five is a step in the right direction.