In the toy shop

Listening to Trumps’ inauguration speech was like listening to a child let loose in the toy store. All those imaginings! Let’s build the biggest rocket ever out of Lego bricks! Let’s push the little police car round the floor whilst making siren noises!  Reality one hopes will kick in—he’ll need more than his relatively small number of political appointees to make any promise come true. It’s been said, ominously, that he will have learnt the lessons of his first presidency. I am not so sure. His talk of territorial expansion, which now not only officially includes Panama but other possibilities extends to Mars. Perhaps Musk wrote that part of the speech. Manifest destiny is on his brain, no doubt nurtured by his property developer’s instinct. It is one reason he holds President McKinley in such high regard, a fellow conqueror. He must be hoping that having survived an assassination attempt, he won’t follow McKinley’s demise at the hands of an assassin.
 
Unless this time he really knows how to pull the levers of power his presidency will be swamped by all sorts of fall-out from his failure to deliver his maniacal promises. Let the Big Con commence.