1. The Mouth That Roared (Time Man of the Year)

Time magazine named Angela Merkel Person of the Year 2015.

Talk about your media bias!

Angela Merkel? Are they serious? Where has this left loony journal of opinion been in 2015, anyway?

My nominee for person of the year—perhaps the century, whatever metric they use at Time—is the world’s leading owner of golf courses, tacky buildings on the West Side ruining the view of New Jersey, and failing businesses with his leased name turned presidential candidate, the man who has even nicer hair than Frau Merkel.

I am speaking, of course, about Donald J. Trump.

If the far-left progressive lying rag Time was being objective they would have been saying, “We have seen the future of presidential politics, and its name is Donald Trump.”

All he has been doing since June is changing the nature of political discourse in the greatest democracy ever created by God or the Founding Fathers.

No longer will future presidential candidates spend the four years between elections memorizing position papers on fixing the problems that will make the country great again. They will be assembling arsenals of insults, put-downs, nasty names, and wild and crazy proposals, following the Big Mouth of the Republican Party’s leadership model.

His modest proposals are not like those of 2012 innovator-of-the-election-year Newt Gingrich’s plan to colonize the moon. I mean, building a wall across the southern border? It took muy grande cojones to call for that. Banning 1.4 billion Muslims from entering the country, even temporarily? What transcendental chutzpah! The most misogynist, xenophobic, racist presidential candidate, my Man of the Year’s words seem to be lasers guided to the hearts of darkness in the breast of America.

My nominee has become the titular leader of the Republican Party, the Party of Lincoln, and not only by the use of waving his hands and making faces. He is blessed with an acute case of an oratorical dysfunction called premature articulation. It’s a condition that makes a person talk too soon, before what he’s going to say runs through the brain, or in Trump’s case, what passes for his brain hidden in his hair.

Trump’s hair reportedly bit a reporter who asked an unfair question, but I have not been able to verify the fact.

“Premature articulation” is another name for what scientists call talking to oneself. Trump’s Disease, as it is also known medically, is contagious. There is no pill for treating the condition.

Here is how the process works:

Hypothetically, say, the presidential candidate looking out at the faces of all his angry white men in a southern primary state suddenly decides to say the KKK is not that bad. “Honestly, I don’t approve of what they did. But they had a lot of nice people. Some doctors, lawyers, pharmacists, police chiefs, responsible folks. They had a bad press. And with all those sheets they were good for white sales.”

The second part of the success formula is that his pro-KKK revival rant would then be transmitted instantaneously by cable network news into homes and minds across the nation.

Whatever egregious words, whatever the absolute lunacy, comes out of Trump’s mouth, people will say it must be true. It’s on the TV, isn’t it?

The antidote, of course, is for TV news managers to boldly go where no VP of news has gone before. They need to step up and say they are mad as hell and are not going to contribute to this insanity.

Thanks to the media, Trump has become the Ebola of American politics.

What we have today in the way of mass communication is what Samuel F. B. Morse must have had in mind when his first message sent across his telegraph wires in 1847 said: “What hath God wrought?” It was even scarier in Morse code.

While I am handing out laurels to my man of the year, a Trump victory in 2016 will either mark the end of the road for democracy as we know it or the start of an even higher form of non-intelligence.

If Time weren’t so biased, they would have done the legwork and awarded the true person of the year the recognition he deserved.

The rest of this book is about the greatest political story ever told that the descendants of Henry Luce missed or suppressed for the good of society.