Trump’s speaking style is from the future, from a time to come when human consciousness has broken down into little floating atavistic splinters of subjectivity and superstition and jokes that aren’t really jokes. At times he is in chauvinist free fall, swiping and snarling at the phantoms around him. At others, pure psychic prima materia comes bubbling up in crude lumps, clinically fascinating, as when he fantasized that Megyn Kelly was exploding with menstrual blood.
There are nights when Trump, in his supreme orange confidence, is quite simply the worst stand-up comedian in the world, crashing and burning, really bombing, but fiercely applauded because with every misfiring bit and linguistic collapse he is sticking it to the enemy: the critics, the ironists, the middlebrows, the gentle teasers, the ideologues of taste, them. His people love to see this, to feel this happen.
”-
James Parker, Donald Trump, Sex Pistol
from Stowe Boyd http://www.stoweboyd.com/post/150725253632
