I love to create stories, but the level of imagination in President Trump's rhetoric asks too much of listeners. Phrases such as "clean coal." Then, there was the one about how he is solely responsible for the lowest African American and Latino American unemployment rates in history. Those work as fantasy, but the
joint address to congress was supposed to be a place for nonfiction.
That combined with his penchant for untruth takes on the aura of the surreal combined with supporters' applause. The sight of those who raucously clapped and cheered set against the stony-faced, Kente-cloth-garbed, members of the Congressional Black Caucus, and the Democratic Party representatives and senators largely dressed in black as a sign of sympathy for the #METOO Movement yielded a stark portrait of tension and division despite the head of state's repeated claims of unity.
After thought, I wish I could make up stories as oddly queer as what I saw in that room. Something terrible happens to the soul when real life is sucked dry of balance. The scene was an image of irreconcilable contrasts. Well, I could write such things, but I would not. My stories tend to offer more hope.