by Ezinne Ukoha

Donald Trump will be impeached. I am convinced that his days as president are numbered. How else can we explain his opulent rise from wealthy tycoon to wealthy tycoon with a seal that is supposed to be rendered to those who’ve earned such an honour?

To be fair, a couple of his predecessors didn’t exactly fit the mode of Commander-in-Chief. George Bush comes to mind. But, even when those days of having an incompetent and flighty leader of the free world — seemed excruciatingly horrific — especially when New Orleans was a funnel of devastation, and Iraq a burning inferno with no weapons of mass destruction — we still managed to weather the good and bad without dissolving in a puddle of sterile incoherence.

The madness that grips us today is surviving under the timer of a whirlpool of deception — on all sides.

The newly minted administration is at war with the press and the press is fighting the collapse of a power that was supposed to uphold the words that feed into the truth, but instead sold its rights to a golden puppeteer with nothing but time and vengeance to spare.

Remember that time when a jokester dressed in millions with a successful TV show that promised millions — decided to run for president? We all laughed and shunned the idea — and gave the media permission to turn his campaign into the modern dramatisation of what happens when you aim high enough.

We were the golden ticket and dependable clickbait. Online pubs needed the traffic in order to stay alive and we needed to feel good about the retweets and memes — that were supposed to pulverise the assets and dreams of an immoral bully who seemed to be playing right into our hands of destruction.

But, he didn’t dissolve in our solution of righteousness and witty apparel.

He rose like a sphinx and imparted a swell of consciousness that resonated beyond what any of us could’ve imagined. His powerful surge was so profound that it took him unawares but gloriously placed him in the position that now tortures the masses — but comforts the Americans who fit his vision of Greatness.

There is talk about lies and facts that are dutifully coerced to represent the truth — without the facts so that lies begin to manifest with permission as the current president issues his approval.

Nothing we internalise from the clicks to refreshes — is conceived for the benefit of knowledge and dignified production.

The press as we know it tried to maintain the logs of investigative pursuits under Obama. He made it easy due to his stoic stance, but even then — when we configure Syria — and other whispered occurrences that suffered the death of silence until it was trendy to be loud again — it is callously clear that the media plays by the rules of logic deceit.

Trump and his henchman have composed a symphony that isn’t too far from what we’ve become accustomed to — the differences stem from delivery and the pained realisation that the man who has the power to make our lives a living a hell — is gleefully determined to do exactly that.

The propelled gauge of the internet has instituted amazing opportunities through the vast tunnels of propriety. You can be an unknown whiz at the keyboard and then suddenly have an online parade in your honour just for the sheer ability to connect with friends, traitors, and marked users who get paid to scout your kind.

The election cycle wasn’t just a profusely washed out event that lacked the right mix of detergent and water to dilute the stains of our time. It was a call to arms and a potent example of how we can magnificently erect the nightmare that we are now diminishing with ridicule and protests.

They say we get a narrow window that allows us to disable the contents of pollution before it bloats into a virus that can’t be contained.

In this age of masterful deception — where we see opposite sides plucking into the same carcass of information with similar codes embedded for different outcomes — it is unforgivable to imagine that there is going to be a winner.

Frankenstein was horrified at the idea of his assembly and vowed to avenge his existence.

The horror of what the media created is still in its infancy, and no matter how much we loathe the results — we can’t deny it’s beauty.

Or ancestry.

---

Op–ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija

Ezinne Ukoha is a juggling Wordsmith and delightfully mumbling poet. She blogs @https://medium.com/@nilegirl