"I maintain the strong conviction that if I were to run, I would be able to win the primary and ultimately, the general election," he declared in a May 16 statement - words of a man who could only be described (by that same man) as better than great; nay, ascendant, exalted, legendary. A paladin of truth, the real gazookus.
At least these are the superlatives I offer Donald as his quest for godhood goes on. For -- oh happy coincidence! - just as he gropes for ever more self-acclaim, out comes Better Than Great, a compendium of 5,700 acclamatory superlatives that I compiled out of boredom with awesome and amazing.
I had thought the book might have varied uses, with its sections ranging from "Sublime" to "Cool." But never did I imagine a walking repository of self-worth so capacious that it could house superlatives from all fifteen categories - with the exception of words for "Delicious," targeted to describers of gustatory greatness.
On the other hand, what's to prevent a man who was "so proud" to have egg on his face (for doubting the President's birth certificate) from seeing himself as piquant, tangy, and buttery, or as manna for America, even as eupeptic - good for the nation's digestion? Piquing our appetite, he promised in his statement that "I will continue to voice my opinions loudly." Is your stomach rumbling?
The media may have flailed Donald for his hubris and some allegedly hazy dealings; yet for him to have polled high among Republican frontrunners and still be considered a serious contender by a third of the nation, millions of Americans must view him in superlative terms.
But which terms? I can only turn to my compiled lists to smoke out the suspects. I find them in two categories; the first is "Forceful": His Trumpness (or any public figure with the moxie to call the whole Chinese nation a rapist) must be seen as a smashmouth, there-will-be-blood, take-charge-and-chew-butt juggernaut, a flinty and unquailing competitor of gutty, pugnacious persuasion - nothing the bouffanted panjandrum would likely deny.
The other category, "Trendy," suggests the mind-set of those who would put a pop-star du jour in the Oval Office with one manicured paw on the red phone. In the eyes of these admiring beholders, Donald is glammy and zazzy, a bespoke-to-the-yolk crowd-pleaser who, one must admit, got flava. And if you don't think Donald would agree, you are of course sacked, redundant, or whatever that weary Donaldism is.
And so, Mr. Trump, as you pursue your many interests in yourself, I offer my list of superlatives - yours for the cover price. All I ask is that you regale us with fresh terms as you do go on.