Trump’s 'White Trash Nation' torn apart by conservative

Conservative Dispatch writer Kevin D. Williamson says he speaks with experience when he calls the sordid antics of President Donald Trump the trashy things that they are — because Williamson knows white trash when he sees it.

Williamson lived the dream, and he’s happy to share example after example.

“I am not sure exactly how the fire on the sofa got started, other than that the proximate cause was, of course, a lit cigarette,” Williamson says, describing one incident from his childhood. “Ours was a very smoky house, to such an extent that after we moved out the film of tar clinging to every surface made the interior difficult to paint — the paint apparently just slid down the walls of the living room and kitchen. … That carpet must have smelled like cancer.”

But Roy (his Mom’s second husband) “drank a great deal and tended to talk about ’Nam when he did, and very possibly had passed out with a lit Marlboro (full-strength reds) on the sofa (coarse polyester weave, floral pattern) in front of the television (fake wood old-style console, dial controls, convex CRT screen) drinking silver bullets, which he stacked in a neat pyramid and sometimes logged the quantity consumed,” said Willimason.

“Roy” was not above sipping the occasional mouthwash or “other household goods containing alcohol” available in Lubbock, Texas — and then vanishing into the night on a drunken spree to be hunted and occasionally collected by Mom. The guy knew what the inside of a jail looked like, said Williamson. And he was also the fellow who passed out and set the sofa on fire with a lit Marlboro.

“My brother and I ran out of the house. We may have been laughing. Little boys like fire,” said Williamson, lamenting that he now has “four little boys” of his own. “We ran to our next-door neighbor’s house. Her garage door was open, and we were friends with her two little boys, which meant that we presumed free run of the place.

Mom came running out of the house soon after, followed by Roy. Not too long after the regrouping, Williamson said his mother, an overweight and unathletic woman in her early 40s — who looked older — turned and beat Roy to pieces, just to add drama to the merrily crackling flames as neighbors looked on and probably cringed.

“I was pleased by the outcome, though I cannot say I was exactly proud of the scene,” confides Williamson, adding that the family often threw “fights in the front yard — some of them incidents of domestic violence, some of them merely recreational.”

“Dodging bill collectors, staging weird personal psychodrama scenes in public, getting stupid drunk, facing eviction lawsuits, brawling while the neighbors look on and cringe — that’s what white trash does,” assured Williamson. And “it does not matter whether you live in a trailer park or a brick ranch house or something more grand and getting grander, it is all the same: Tornado bait is tornado bait.”

“[So,] when the Trump administration announced that it was staging a UFC fight on the South Lawn of the White House, I knew what I was seeing,” said Williamson. “It is as familiar to me as the taste of canned Ranch Style Beans on cornbread or the smell of cigarette smoke soaking into Dacron-upholstered office furniture and slick tallowy well-yellowed linoleum in the grim waiting rooms outside those weepy Al-Anon meetings my mother dragged me to for a while because she couldn’t afford a babysitter. I know my people. My people know what they like.”

“It took 250 years, but you got here,” said Williamson. “All the way down here. From Greatest Generation to White Trash Nation in the space of one lifetime. Welcome to my world, America.”

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