Every morning when I wake up, I ask myself: what have I done the previous day that entitles me to draw upon the nation’s precious water supply and enjoy a hot shower? I don’t see this as a basic human right; it should be earned. And what I did the other day was accompany my beloved to the Met to see Puccini’s Tosca. She dearly loves grand opera and I dearly love her, and I was glad to go for the chance to see the tenor be executed and the soprano leap to her death. I enjoy violence more when it’s accompanied by great music. What makes the Met’s Tosca remarkable is that the tenor’s girlfriend Tosca, sung by the six-two Norwegian goddess Lise Davidsen, towers over him and when they embrace, he disappears, and when they sing a duet, you forget he’s there. Her voice can go from pianissimo to pee-in-your-pants forte in two seconds and during one duet I somehow found myself thinking about transgenderdom. When I listen to people sing in Italian, my mind wanders. The subject of transgender was more prominent in Trump’s 2024 campaign than in any presidential election I can recall. Reagan never went there, nor did George W. Maybe I’m hanging out with the wrong people but I wasn’t aware that it was such a major issue, the fear of trans boys competing in girls’ basketball. I am not without prejudice and I admit that I would prefer that my cardiologist be okay with his or her birth gender. I’m not proud of it but there it is. As for basketball, I take no interest in it whatsoever and haven’t for years. But the current bromance between Donald Trump and Elon Musk, World’s Richest Man, forces me to take up the subject. I’ve long thought that there is something sopranoish and prima Donald about Trump, the fussiness with the hair, the adoration of the spotlight, the reverence for makeup. And Mar-a-Lago with all the frilliness and glitz, the gilded cherubs, the ladylike glamour — no man I know would feel comfortable there. So watching the man’s victory speech on Election Night in which he spoke so admiringly about Musk’s Space-X rocket, it struck me as odd: you’ve just been elected Leader of the Free World and you’re fascinated by the size of another man’s rocket? It just made me wonder if we haven’t elected our first trans president before electing our first woman. El Don’s obsession with trans people in his campaign bore unmistakable signs of self-loathing and I think that we hippy-libs have a duty to encourage him to come out of the locker room and embrace his identity. It’s heartwarming to see a 78-year-old person head-over-heels for a guy devoted to cars and rockets, and now that La Donna is elected, he can cut the macho act and bring out the pantsuits and high heels and just be himself. I’m an old Marxist-Communist but still I think power should be liberating: take that Oval Office and ovulate to your heart’s content, pal. “Trump Will Fix It” was the slogan and now it’s time for him/her/them to fix him/her/them. Everybody could tell that he needed a new pronoun and now he can have it by executive order. Dawn is in love with his Musk, They’re dancing together at dusk. Each little fist bump Makes her heart jump, His tail and his tush and his tusk. I wish Kamala had become First Woman President because she seemed actually interested in government and policy issues, more than in sharks and electric boats and Arnie Palmer’s manhood. But so be it, the voters have spoken. But let’s try to see the bright side. If you are a soybean farmer in North Dakota and you feel God made a mistake in giving you a penis, you are in a tough spot and most trans farmers would take the easy way out and move to West Palm Beach, but a President with the courage to come out publicly on Day One and accept what is so clear about him could change that instantly. He is a great storyteller. He loves the unexpected. His nomination of a Fox News host to head the Defense Department, and Matt Gaetz, under investigation for drug use and sex trafficking, nominated to be Attorney General. So why not hold a press conference wearing a sparkly red gown and jangly jewelry? People want entertainment. They’ll be talking about it for weeks. Fashion will trump inflation. Step back to 1984 and relive the charm of Lake Wobegon with Garrison Keillor’s three-disc collection of heartfelt and hilarious tales, many unheard for over 35 years. These 11 monologues capture the timeless humor and warmth of America’s favorite storyteller.CLICK HERE to buy today!You’re on the free list for Garrison Keillor and Friends newsletter and Garrison Keillor’s Podcast. For the full experience, become a paying subscriber and receive The Back Room newsletter, which includes monologues, photos, archived articles, videos, and much more, including a discount at our store on the website. Questions: admin@garrisonkeillor.com |