By Uzor Maxim Uzoatu
If you don’t pay your rent, you get evicted from the house. Whether you are living in a face-me-I-face-you hellhole in Ajegunle or in the super-duper White House is immaterial. Once the rent is expired, the man living there is also expired.
That is the trouble with the big man that used to brag all over the place as President Donald J. Trump of the United States of America: POTUS 45.
His rent has expired and he is making some noises about going to this court or that court instead of packing out of the White House.
If he likes, let him go as far as to ECOWAS court, disgraceful eviction stares him in the face. There is even the suggestion that he could hire the Supreme Court of the Giant of Africa to install him in the manner that one governor was installed as a Supreme Court Governor in one Nigerian state.
The Americans are not laughing at all at the antics of Mr. Trump, and I understand that bailiffs are already waiting to throw the vulgar man out.
Trump’s tenancy in the White House was marked with too much braggadocio. When lowly Senator Joe Biden came out to challenge him for the diadem he dismissed the old man as “Sleepy Joe”.
It turned out as the height of humiliation and shame that the old man tagged “Sleepy Joe” ended up knocking out the bragging big giant who promoted himself as “The Donald”.
Call it American Wonder, and I will remind you that one of America’s greatest film stars, Charlton Heston, wrote in his Diaries that a big man can never win a fight against the little man. If the big man wins the fight he is condemned as a bully, but if the giant somehow gets beaten by the small fellow he is ridiculed as a buffoon.
No less a personage of avid letter-writing than Chief Olusegun Obasanjo has written in yet another letter that it was good that defeated evil.
Trump is in no man’s land in his devastating defeat, and his evangelical supporters cannot stop jabbering in forked tongues.
There is the cry that angels from shithole Africa will be summoned to restore the fallen Trump to the White House.
Papa Hezekiah who led a procession for Trump in one Onitsha church remains marooned in a spiritual wonderland in the bid to offer a spellbinding solution.
In the realm of poetry, one cannot find any great poem to bring to bear on the Trump matter except the good old nursery rhyme “Humpty Dumpty”:
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.
If Trump can no longer be put together again like Humpty Dumpty, he has nobody else to blame but himself.
He started out acting like the owner of the ball who takes away his ball once he is dribbled while kids are playing football.
He blabbed that he could never ever be defeated, so he had no Option B. He kept racking up points at the beginning of the contest but once he got to number 214 he got stuck, making one local wag to quip: “Chai! E be like say na African traditional merecine dem take pin Mister Trump at 214!”
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Meantime, the erstwhile “Sleepy Joe” racked up insurmountable numbers that led to a resounding victory.
Trump now cries of mail fraud because it was mailed-in votes that did the damage, but he ought to have known that Joe Biden is so popular he receives more letters than the post office!
Trump is only good at tweeting, but tweets don’t count as votes! If you keep on tweeting, you get reduced to a twit!
The canonization of Trump got the goat of not a few people, offline and online, such that one Didymus of a Doubting Thomas protested thusly: “The Devil’s best work was being able to convince evangelicals that a racist man who makes fun of dead soldiers, has five kids with three wives, gropes women, incites violence, and never tells the truth, was sent here by God.”
As Trump was trounced ever so comprehensively, another naysayer went Biblical thus: “God can never be mocked.”
One of the Ghanaian prayer warriors for Trump has just declared in surrender: “Our prayers for President Donald Trump didn’t work because his heart is not clean.”
Robert Reich has put it in bold print this way: “Donald Trump built his real estate empire evicting people of colour. This week, people of colour evicted Donald Trump.”
There is a raging bull in the American china shop. With the mention of “American china”, the bigger pun of China pops up – and it’s as though the “China virus finally got him!”
But before we get derailed by “hydroxychloroquine treatment” of Trump’s Dr Stella Emmanuel, let’s re-stress the real McCoy of evicting the raging bull, alias Don the Con, in the American china shop poised to pull the entire commonwealth to pieces.
The crystal ball starkly tells that this eviction will not be to Trump Towers but to a federal correctional centre.
A tear for Trump!