I'm Sorry To Disappoint Everyone, But Donald Trump Ain't Getting Impeached Or Going To Prison

Chris Kleponis/Pool/Getty Images
Chris Kleponis/Pool/Getty Images

The only redeeming stretch in Batman v Superman — a movie so aggressively shitty that The Wife Person and I watch it each time its on just to find new shit to hate about it — comes directly after the single worst scene in the movie. Batman is about to kill the shit out of Superman, and Superman whispers "Save…Martha." And Batffleck jumps back all surprised and pained and shit like "Why did you say that name which also happens to be my dead mother's name too?" And Lois Save A Super Ho somehow emerges from Superman's anus to blurt "That's his mom's name too!"


After they clarify things and make brunch plans to patch things up, the movie finally decides to get interesting, as Batman goes and murders everyone in line at a Williamsburg Chipotle to save Superman's mom, and Lex Zuckerburg decides to unleash Doomsday, which allows Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman to finally join forces. Lots of loud and violent and cool things happen next.

This stretch also produces my favorite line in the movie. After the government shoots a shitload of missiles at Doomsday's grill, he consumes them, does this shock wave thing, pounds his chest, screams "MY BITCHES ARE BAD AND BOUJEE", and then actually gets bigger and stronger. Upon seeing this, Harry Lennix's token Black general sighs "That nigga's unkillable."

It is (probably) hyperbolic to also consider Donald Trump to be unkillable, since he's (probably) not the Antichrist, and could (conceivably) die countless different ways. He might even already actually be dead, and the man we elected President could just be a hollowed-out marionette filled with Good & Plentys and controlled with fish wire by Vladimir Putin. This is (probably) not true, but it's worth considering.

What is true, however, is that from the time Trump decided to run for President to the time he was actually elected, there were no less than a dozen different instances of Something Happening That Would Seem To Render Trump Unelectable. And each time it happened, we (collectively) exhaled and said "Whew, that was a close one" — effectively turning into The Guy In Every Friday The 13th Who Knocks Jason Down With A Frying Pain, Thinks He's Dead, Turns His Back To Celebrate, And Gets Disemboweled With An Espresso Machine By A Totally Not Dead At All Jason.

You'd think we would have learned. Especially after the disemboweling thing. But in the three months that Trump has been President, we're still playing the same game. Trump does or says something we think is going to get him impeached. Or arrested. Or just punched in the fucking face. And we put all of our eggs in the Trump Is Canceled party basket. We hold reservations, buy party favors, and even make after party plans. And then nothing happens. And then he does something again. And we're like "Oh…this is for real this time. He can't survive this." And then he emerges stronger and more powerful, like his spray tan is a force field.

It's understandable why we'd feel this way. Because this nigga was supposed to be unelectable. And he should be impeached and/or incarcerated. These are perfectly logical and predictable outcomes to his behavior. But what makes him unkillable is both the illogical support he still receives from his stans — still too blinded by racial anxiety and antagonism to see past their own fucking teeth — and the craven, spineless, and feckless fucking Republicans (and fucking Democrats) in D.C. He will remain in power as long as they remain intoxicated and terrified by it; hoping perhaps to suckle some power residue off of him, like a plover bird grasping at what's between a gator's teeth. And as long as they remain as bitch-ass as they've proven to be, Trump's bitch ass aint going anywhere. The only way to kill him is to beat them, not him. Cause they aint going to let it happen.


Of course, I could be wrong. And I hope I am. After all, the seemingly unkillable Doomsday was actually killed. We just might have to sit through a few more hours of Superhero Telenovela to finally see it happen.

Damon Young is the editor-in-chief of VSB, a contributing opinion writer for The New York Times, and the author of What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Blacker (Ecco/HarperCollins)



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