He was born a gambler. And he worked hard. He made a fortune, lost a fortune, and made another bigger fortune. Most men in his profession – he built skyscrapers – shunned the lime-light but he enjoyed celebrity and accepted an offer to star in a reality show and found he had a unique talent: He could be brash and vain and crude all at the same time and somehow, in the next breath, turn his vices into entertainment. He made another fortune.
When he left television to run for President, watching him blast Rosie or Megan or Ted or Hillary was like watching a new kind of reality show. His unique gift for entertainment followed him into the White House but, there, he also learned a lesson he hadn’t expected: Even the lowliest Congressman could tell him ‘No.’ And federal judges were worse.
Two judges stopped his immigration orders dead in their tracks. And a handful of Republican Congressmen from the Freedom Caucus stopped his Obamacare repeal.
The defeats were hard for a proud man to swallow. Threats flew. Feuds simmered. But in another way there was an old virtue at work here: Each ‘No’ was proof the ancient laws that make a President a President and not a King still worked.