You call this a life of decadence, Mr Trump? Use your imagination! | Jeb Lund

Trumps butler has given the world a peek into the moguls so-called life of luxury, splendor and indulgence. Your correspondent is not impressed

I was willing to overlook Donald Trumps misogyny, banishment of Muslims from the country, the demonization of undocumented Latinos and the spotlighting of crowd anger to incentivize mob behavior. Those just seemed like the birth pangs of a new American democracy. But Tuesdays New York Times profile of Donald Trumps butler goes too far.

Despite ticking off every clichd box on the Weird Life Of An Insanely Rich Guy checklist, its obvious that the billionaire has no idea how to be an insanely rich guy. Thats no way to make America great again.

As the New York Times reports, his butler is named Anthony Senecal, and he has worked for Trump for 30 years and at the Mar-a-Lago resort for 60. Wrong, wrong, wrong. My God, what a waste of a butler. If youre going to go provincial, at the very least, have [Post]. Better yet, glue a J [Post] on Chris Christie and hope that the My Fair Lady elocution lessons take hold sooner rather than later.

Freshen up your ale, guv? Christiell say. Sure thing, CC, youll reply. And put a head on it.

Thats still small potatoes. Come on, Don, what are all the friggin billions for? If you want a butler thats going to blow everyones minds, get a trained duck that can smoke a cigarette.

Life at Trumps Florida resort-palace seems almost quotidian. Built a century ago by the famous [Post], Trump quickly went about making Mar-a-Lago his own.

[Post] imported stone from Genoa, Italy, and 16th-century Flemish tapestries that she protected by drawing the drapes in the brightest hours. (They faded after Mr Trump bought the place and blasted the living room with sunlight.)

Good job. Next time, you remove the tapestries and drapes and completely line the room with mirrors so, from any point within it, you can hold up a magnifying glass and use it to burn ants outside.

And look at this utter waste of a morning ritual. After being delivered several papers some from as far away as New York City Mr Trump would emerge hours later, in khakis, a white golf shirt and baseball cap. If the cap was white, the staff noticed, the boss was in a good mood. If it was red, it was best to stay away.

Heres a better idea: why dont you just shoot the staff? If your duck butler is taking a smoke break and notices the scullery maid Lucinda get hit in the bodice with a red paintball, its a bad day. A white paintball means all-clear.

Or just skip the signaling and shoot the help with tranquilizer darts, then make Chris Christie dress up in a red plumbers outfit and Super Mario mustache and drag the bodies out to your giant human chessboard.

Actually, forget the chessboard bit. Seems too 19th century. Build a clock tower, climb atop it with a rifle and see how many servants you can tranq between 9 and 10am, then have Christie pile them on top of each other and see how tall you can make what I like to call The Laborer Heap. Then, the next day, try to beat that record.

And for the down times? Get creative.

Mr Senecal knows how to stroke his ego and lift his spirits, like the time years ago he received an urgent warning from Mr. Trumps soon-to-land plane that the mogul was in a sour mood. Mr Senecal quickly hired a bugler to play Hail to the Chief as Mr Trump stepped out of his limousine to enter Mar-a-Lago.

Dear Lord, talk about aiming low. At the very least, start at [Post] and work your way upward.

I expect better from Trump. A restless, brilliant mind shouldnt be presenting 19th century solutions to ridiculous opulence. A desolated America needs monumental greatness, not just luxury. If were going to look backward, lets blow past 200 years ago and reach for [Post].

Mr Senecal tried to retire in 2009, but Mr Trump decided he was irreplaceable Tony, to retire is to expire, Mr Trump told him. Ill see you next season.

Next season? Chump change. Tony, how about we see you forever? How about we bake you into clay and brass and wall you into the underground chamber with the other terracotta servants who will become our warriors and bring iced-tea pitchers for eternity?

We cant stop with Tony. Were going to need millions more beautiful, luxurious war-butlers like him. Its the only way to stop China in the afterlife.


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