Fall of the Roman Empire on Ice!

by Susan Bergeron

January 24: Like a deposed emperor, his repulsive nakedness finally revealed for all to see, Trump descended his heavenly stairway one last time and stopped to wave to the last of his adoring minions who were waiting for him down below. His once dutiful empress quickly skated away and disappeared into her shining black chariot.

High Noon approached and all of the sand finally ran out of his hourglass beneath the gleaming sun of Trump’s island of exile. The royal “We” would no longer fall from the disgraced “First and Last Emperor’s” evil lips. There was no fanfare, no tens of thousands of loyal foot soldiers come to save him or to save his empire. 

America was never meant to be an empire. It was born in 1776 of a band of revolutionaries who rejected that notion of despotic governance. They formed a new experimental form of self-ruling republic in its stead. Trump tried to replace that, after 244 years, and install himself as the first Emperor of America. He began from the very beginning, by getting the electorate used to his obnoxious use of the royal “We” when referring to himself, a practice reserved only for royalty and the Pope. Amazingly, no one ever called him out on this! I suppose it was because it was easy to assume that every time he said “We” he was referring to his administration. But as time went by, it became more likely that Trump had been convinced he actually was becoming the Emperor. It was finally crystal clear on January 6, 2021, when during the raging riot taking place in the world’s seat of democracy, Trump sent a message to his army of insurrectionists that said “We love you.” He meant he  loved the seditionists. Who else was “We”? I don’t think anybody else in the White House wants to lay claim tothat  “We.” 

In the final days of his empire, which crumbled and burned at Trump’s feet, he amused himself with outings where he played his favorite sport, golf, and he sequestered himself in his ivory tower, where he watched television. He awarded pop entertainers with medals of Honor and planned scores of pardons. Trump, the failed attempted Emperor of America was often compared to Emperor Nero, as Nero was said to have fiddled while Rome burned. But Trump actually resembled another Emperor of Rome much more closely: Emperor Romulus Augustus. 

Somewhere around 476 A.D., as the once mighty Western reaches of the Roman Empire finally took its last gasp, history records what has come to be known, sadly, as “The Fall of the Roman Empire.” The once mighty empire that reached halfway across the world had produced some of the most technologically advanced wonders of the world, many that still endure today. Some say Rome was overcome by the sheer weight and speed of its own growth. Others site its lack of moral values; at the height of its progress the Empire began to choke on the depravity of its very riches. 

The last Emperor Romulus was deposed and believed to have probably abdicated under pressure from the Germanic Barbarian Odoacer. Although all Roman Emperors took the name Augustus, it’s fitting that the last one, said to be incompetent and a failure, was given a derogatory nickname. With the passage of time, history came to refer to him as “Momyllus Augustulus.” In Latin the words translate into “little disgrace,” and by adding the suffix “ulus” onto Augustus, the Emperor’s name becomes the undignified “Little Disgrace of a Little Emperor!” 

Trump rose up to become leader of the Free World from nothing more than a carnival barker who works the boardwalk at Coney Island selling empty promises of an “easy win” and “big prizes!” The guy that spent his whole life calling foul and “unfair” and claiming every game he played was rigged, turns out to be the biggest cheater and liar there ever was. He rose to fame pretending to be a successful and rich businessman who had conquered the real estate game in the richest real estate market in America---Manhattan. But he really hadn’t. Tax records and legal documents uncovered in a 14,000 word expose published by the New York Times while Trump was in office revealed how he stole from the taxpayers and the U.S. government to finance his projects. But because a well-financed British TV executive producer named Mark Burnett decided to take a chance on the glamorous media magnet Trump, we had fourteen seasons of “The Apprentice.” That television show falsely convinced millions of worldwide television audiences that Trump’s business acumen was real---a reality TV show ended up nearly costing the oldest surviving democracy in the world its freedom. Burnett helped Trump create the “brand” that would go on to help him build his empire.

In four years Trump built an army 74 million strong. He built up a military and “The Thin Blue Line”---his new centurions. He pillaged the nation’s treasury and Trump’s empire grew and grew and his corrupt Senate continued to prop him up. But there was one enemy he hadn’t planned for and couldn’t conquer: the plague that came to be known as Covid-19. And even as it killed almost half a million people, it was credited with saving the republic, for it was the plague that finally ripped off the mask of the blind and showed them what a poseur Trump really had been. 

Trump made a TV show of it all. He opened it out of town and then brought it into living rooms around the world. Every day Trump’s attempt at leadership became a new episode on Fox TV. He’d learned the entertainment business all those years he worked on his popular show “The Apprentice.” He learned how to find his key lighting, read the cue cards, work the crowd, and use catch phrases. He came up with clever names for the “actors” in the show---Little Marco, Lyin’ Ted, Cryin’ Chuck, and Nervous Nancy. He learned how to play the American people for suckers. He used suspense and “cliff-hangers” to manipulate the mainstream media when making policy decisions and selecting important administrative aides. He pushed “the brand” with social media---Facebook live events and Twitter videos. He threatened war and fired cabinet Secretaries by tweet. He had his Trophy Wife Queen to help him attract more fans. He had Rudy the Court Jester. It was the Court of the Orange King---appearing live---just like the ice shows at Madison Square Garden! But like all terrible shows, even ones the producers try to save by putting them on skates, in the end this one had to close, too.

Even Mickey Mouse, the skaters from Starlight Express, the gang from Sesame Street, the cast on hiatus from “Frozen” and all those former stars of the Olympic Skating Team can’t save your show now, Trumpulus Augustulus. The traveler has slid across the stage on your show for the last time, and the big red velvet curtain has slammed down from the ceiling. Skate away, skate away into the Florida sunset before the ice melts, Loser.