Andrew Wicks

Is Donald Trump a Stable Genius? Absolutely.

After Donald Trump called himself a stable genius, the world lost the plot. But you know what? He’s absolutely correct.


Donald Trump entered a new term into the lexicon, the stable genius. Typically, he was referencing himself. He made the point to distance himself from Michael Wolff, the author that penned the book that promises to kiss, tell, and draw back the curtain on 45’s barely obfuscated incompetence. While Fire and Fury may just solidify everyone’s assumption of the moronic nature of the man, there’s a case to make that the Don is actually correct.

Let’s be honest, Donald Trump is a genius according to the lazy whims of this time and place. A man, despite his complete inadequacy for the position, has bagged the plum job in the country. We should marvel at the way that he got there: seat of his pants, sheer bluster, dank memes. Prior to that, he rose to the top of the television tree on the basis of two small words. He’s doing more with much less. The old recipe of genius—the complete self-destruction through drugs, destitution or debauchery to discover who you are and transport that into one piece of work only for it to make some billionaire rich two hundred years after your death—is passé. None of us possess the stamina to attend multiple semesters of that school of thought. We don’t. We desire to fail upward, be noticed while we are still alive, and get paid, son.

Donald Trump’s genius is the fact that you don’t have to think about it. You get it. As Icarus flew into the sun and perished, Donald looked directly at it and continues to soar. Understanding something is a wonderful thing, and your own brainpower makes it memorable. “I know too much and not enough,” was a sentence spoken by another genius, one that actually speaks for the lustful doomed exuberance of our existence, but who really remembers, nay, gives a shit about that guy? I don’t. I just brought him up as a lazy metaphor.

The genius of his genius is that it is accessible. It’s fun castigation (or funstigation) for the whole family. Donald Trump is exactly like Top Gun. He’s all quotable lines, wailing guitars, and a removal of the breath by the mere borders of the excitement present, a movie for when you just need to give your mind the night off. But it has a lasting power. As every teen/kid/kid-adult would attest, the seconds beyond the credits are spent seriously considering picking up the telephone and volunteering for the Air Force. Trump works in the same way. He convinces you that you could be President, despite the obvious danger zone you would be flying headlong into.

It doesn’t matter, because you’ll win, because ner ner ner nudda nudda ner ner.

To be honest, we’re overthinking genius. Henri Matisse is just some dust in a box, Albert Einstein only exists in poster form, and Michelangelo is a turtle. The age of the complicated genius is long gone. When The New York Times gleefully retrieved the thesaurus from the bottom draw in order to snark a response to Trump’s latest hyperbole, all they exposed was their ignorance:

Mr. Trump’s self-absorption, impulsiveness, lack of empathy, obsessive focus on slights, tenuous grasp of facts and penchant for sometimes far-fetched conspiracy theories have generated endless op-ed columns, magazine articles, books, professional panel discussions and cable television speculation.

They’re trying to add definition to something that is already beyond definition. He exists in a higher plane. Trump’s arrival has signified a sort of moronic renaissance, freeing us from the burden of original thought, the warm embrace of criticism, our previous assumptions of what a President should be, and indeed how a country should be run.

Example: The man passed his first piece of legislation eleven months into the job. Not doing your job and keeping it (all under the gaze of the entire world) shows true nous. He’s the true Teflon Don. The man can shake off political crises that would have felled so-called greater men. It’s all Watergate under the bridge.

Can’t be dislodged, can’t be stopped. Maybe he is exactly what he claims.


Andrew Wicks

Andrew Wicks is a country boy with a penchant for movies and sport. After a few years working in health, he decided he'd rather work with today's youth and studied arts and education in rural NSW. His main interests are religion, health, and lairy shirts.

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