Trump, the Performer

Trump has reinvigorated comedy, from stand-up to TV to newspapers, and it's not just the newapaper columnists and the editorial cartoonists who've been inspired. The comics pages have also gotten into the act--strips like Candorville, Mallard Filmore, Non Sequitur, Wizard of Id and, of course, Doonesbury.  It's hard to resist such good material.
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Trump is determined to put his brand--his name--on everything, espacially a big, flashy, neon-lit wall. Ah, Ozymandias, nothing lasts forever, which is a reference our so-called president lacks the educational background to understand. By the way, his latest "alternative fact" is that the Civil War was senseless, that no one knows why it was fought.
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His basest base still gives him high approval ratings, mainly, Fio thinks, because none of us like to admit we were wrong. And then there's the circus element. It's so much fun under the Big Top.

Leicester Cathedral

Fiorella is fascinated by the fact that the remains of England's King Richard III, which were found beneath a parking lot, were recently reburied in Leicester Cathedral--as if it matters where people, even important people, are interred.  Sometime in the future, the cathedral will be demolished by war or terrorists or an alien invasion, and the bones will be lost again.  As will ours, no matter where we are laid to rest.

"Ozymandias," people.  Reread "Ozymandias."

Endurance

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Fiorella used to hate "Ozymandias," Percy Bysshe Shelley's depressing poem about how nothing matters because nothing endures.

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away."

But after due thought, Fio disagrees with Percy.  Certain things do endure.  Not edifices built by mighty rulers, not the rulers, not even their histories, certainly not their people, but universal principles.  Thus: 

Love Endures

How long lasts love?  Past tomorrow's dawn? 
Past hurt and anger, betrayal, desertion, death?

This weakness of the heart--will it grow strong

Enough to last the years, and stay weak yet?

Love ripens in the lusty sun of youth

And is consumed, but blossoms always sweet

To be the springtime baby's first-fed fruit,

The sustenance of summer, winter's treat.

The music of the song survives the singer

And echos of itself divinity;

Thus Love and Beauty, Truth, and Courage linger

Long past their actors in eternity.

         How long lasts love?  My love is yours
         As long as Love endures; yes, love endures.