The “Girther Theory” and Its Jokes

The “girther theory” is by no means the most important story in the news these days, but it is by far ┬áthe most hilarious. If you aren’t up to date on the latest internet “memes,” the “girther theory” is a play on the “birther theory” that President Barack Obama was born in Kenya and therefore constitutionally ineligible for the presidency, and it alleges that President Donald Trump is lying about his girth.
It all started when Trump submitted to a physical examination, and the attending physician publicly reported that the president is six feet and three inches tall and weighs 239 pounds. We could never making a living at state fairs by guessing people’s height and weight, and the doctor is a naval officer who was also Obama’s physician and seems a lot more credible than that wild-eyed straight-from-a-Grateful-Dead-concert quack who wrote a note during the presidential campaign attesting that all of Trump’s tests were positive and he would be “the healthiest president ever,” so we were willing to take that as a fact. Some more body-conscious smarty-pants than ourselves found the weight slightly suspicious, though, partly because it’s just a few pounds short of what would be considered obese on the latest medical charts, and partly because of all those photographs of Trump in his golf pants and tennis shorts.
The crueler sorts on the internet started posting pictures of professional athletes reported to be six feet and three inches tall and approximately 239 pounds, and by comparison Trump undeniably has more girth. Trump has proved he can claim with a straight face that nobody has more respect for women and he’s the least racist person you’ve ever met, but even he won’t dare boast of the most perfect six-foot-three-inch-and-239-pound male physique anybody has ever seen, and say that everybody says so, that he can tell you, believe him.
Back in the days of the inarguably obese but vastly-underrated President William Howard Taft we would have never made fat jokes about the president on the internet, but that was a different time and this is a different president. Trump has a long history of making unfavorable comments about other people’s looks, from his days rating celebrity women on a one-to-ten scale on Howard Stern’s shock jock radio, noting that “It’s very hard for a small-breasted woman to be a ten,” to saying that far more qualified Republican primary opponent Carly Fiorina was unqualified because “look at the face.” He even disparaged the posterior of his general election opponent by saying that when she walked ahead of him into a debate “believe me, I wasn’t impressed.” It got a big laugh from a rally crowd, but hardly rises to the witty level of Groucho Marx telling Margaret Dumont that “Ah, I can see you bending over a hot stove, but I can’t see the stove,” and it’s an open invitation to all the fat ass jokes he’ll have to endure on the internet and the late night comedy shows for the next few days.
Which isn’t the most important thing going on in the news, of course, but it is kind of funny. Kind of sad, too, that both the president and his critics and the rest of our popular and political culture has arrived at this level of public discourss.

— Bud Norman

Trump and Elephants and Elephant Jokes

After the past two years or so of close observation we can usually predict President Donald Trump’s “tweets,” but over the weekend he surprised us by “tweeting” some misgivings about allowing trophies from elephant hunts into the United States.
The practice was forbidden by one of President Barack Obama’s gazillion or so regulations, and that’s usually reason enough to expect Trump would insist otherwise. Elephants are also one of those politically correct bleeding-heart liberal causes, which is ironic given America’s political symbology, so Trump would typically be even more opposed to the idea. Trump’s two elder sons are fond of posting pictures of themselves with the kills from their frequent big game hunts in Africa on the internet, too, so it’s triply surprising that Trump would deny them a tusk or two to show off to their friends.
Trump’s “tweets” aren’t in any way definitive, and he might yet go along with his own administration’s proposal to end the prohibition, but even Trump’s harshest media critics admit he seems to have a soft spot in his oft-questioned heart for elephants. Back during the campaign his sons were widely criticized by the politically correct bleeding heart types for all those pictures of the big game animals they’d killed — we recall chuckling at Triumph the Insult Comic Dog’s defense that they were actually aiming at the natives — and Trump surprised us by failing to come to their defense. The politically correct and bleeding-heart liberal diva Cher was a particularly outspoken critic on “twitter,” and a particularly inviting target for Trump’s “twitter” counter-punching, but Trump responded with “Old story, one of which I publicly disapproved. My sons love hunting, I don’t.”
At this point we don’t what to make of it. There’s a persuasive conservative argument to be made that managed big game hunting offers the natives with economic incentives to perpetuate the species, but even Trump seems sympathetic to the politically correct and bleeding heart argument against shooting elephants. We have no fondness for Trump or his two elder sons, and we’ve been railing against politically correct bleeding-heart liberalism and Obama’s over-regulating tendencies for a lot longer than any of them have, so for now our favorite characters in this tale are the elephants.
No elephant has ever done us any harm, and they’ve provided us many jokes. Every time we’d see one of the younger Trumps posing over a dead elephant we’d recall Groucho Marx as Captain Spaulding bragging that on his African safari he’d shot an elephant in his pajamas, “and how he got in my pajamas I’ll never know.” There was that great Jimmy Durante moment when he was being followed by an elephant and told a questioning passerby, “What elephant?,” and after looking over his shoulder said, “Oh, that elephant.” There are countless others, but our favorite elephant joke is about why the elephant drinks, and the punchline is “to forget.”
On a memorable visit to the Sedgwick County Zoo we once saw a zookeeper running a couple of the elephants through their daily calisthenics, which is really something to see, and they seem such magnificent examples of God’s creation that we can’t imagine any reason some rich kid would want to travel all the way to Africa to kill one. There are some stupid rules about selling pianos with ivory keys cut from the tusks of elephants that were killed a long time ago, and we wouldn’t mind seeing that deregulated, and a there are lot of those politically correct bleeding-heart regulations about animals that we’d also happily undo, but we won’t mind a bit if those rich kids who go all the way to Africa to kill an elephant don’t get to bring a trophy home.
If that puts us in the uncomfortable position of being on the side of both Trump and those politically correct bleeding-heart liberals, then so be it.

— Bud Norman