An Unscheduled Hospital Visit

President Donald Trump spent a couple of hours in Walter Reed Hospital on Saturday, and there’s much speculation about why. Trump has “tweeted” it was just “phase one” of his annual checkup, but there are reasons to doubt that.
For one thing, Trump’s last annual checkup was only nine months ago, and he doesn’t strike us as the sort who wants to undergo another one any sooner than he has to. For another thing, checkups are rarely done in phases. For yet another thing, the hospital visit was not on the president’s published daily schedule and seems to have arranged hastily. Also, there’s a medical unit at the White House that has previously sufficed for presidential checkups.
The biggest reason for the skepticism, though, is that what Trump says so often turns out to be a big fat lie. Speaking of big and fat, his previous checkup results clearly overstated his height and understated his weight, and Trump was so pleased by he nominated one of the doctors to be director of the Veterans Administration, although the nomination was withdrawn when the Republicans in Congress after allegations of staff harassment and script-writing surfaced and everyone noticed the doctor had no administrative experience.
During the election Trump broke with longstanding tradition by refusing to release his medical records, and instead offered a four-paragraph letter from his weird-looking gastroenterologist testifying that the candidate’s “strength and stamina are extraordinary” and “his laboratory tests results are astonishingly excellent,” and oddly enough that “Mr. Trump has had a medical examination showed only positive results.” The letter concluded that Trump would be “the healthiest person ever elected to the presidency,” and judging by that hyperbolic prose style and the things that no licensed physician would ever say it was clear that Trump dictated it, which the doctor later acknowledged.
Trump feels obliged to always present an image of alpha male invincibility, bragging about his artificially deflated golf scores and even his penis size, as well as constantly denigrating the energy levels and physical attractiveness of his foes, so he’d surely be loathe to admit to even the most minor sort of ailment that might bring a mere human being to a hospital for a couple of hours. Given that at 73-years-of-age Trump is the oldest president ever, with a well known penchant for fast food and an aversion to any exercise that doesn’t involve a golf cart, as well as well-established record of telling big fat lies, the skepticism about Trump’s brief time in the hospital is inevitable.
We’re not prone to conspiracy theories about a politician’s health, such as the ones Trump fans peddled back when Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton fainted on a hot New York City sidewalk and then died and was replaced by a body double, but it’s easy to believe that Trump had some minor ailment that more normal people would admit to. We truly hope that’s the most benign explanation for Trump’s impromptus motorcade visit to Walter Reed, and that whatever tests Trump had there yielded only those hoped-for negative results, and that he soldiers on through his likely impeachment.
Even so, we’d be more reassured about the health of our septuagenarian president if he weren’t so big and fat and such a big fat liar.

— Bud Norman

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