Many of you will remember the blog I wrote, in which I tried to encourage you all to see the other side of Donald J Trump. I wanted you to look at him through a telescope of fairness, objectivity and possibly even kindness. Many of you will also remember how I suffered because of the special relationship I have with the 45th President of the United States. And many of you will indeed remember how I lost my job, my long term partner, and many of my friends when I went public with my thoughts.
Well let me just tell you right now, it’s been a nightmare of a witch hunt! I am still in hiding in a secret location in Kilkenny, and I’m at the end of my tethers. I can’t even show myself at my Bikram Yoga class, let alone Spinning. Yet, despite all of the sorrows, I’m still pleased I said what I did, and do you know what, I have even more to say about the other side of Donnie.
Donald John Trump was born on 14 June in 1946 to Fred and Mary-Anne who were, like all new parents, just thrilled. Only a few hours after his birth, however, Mary-Anne suffered excruciating postnatal depression, which manifested itself in the most unusual way. Mary-Anne thought Donnie was a chinchilla and refused to have him in the home with his other siblings, so he was sent to live with Uncle John Trump, who was a professor at MIT, and all too keen to study the young baby.
Professor John put baby Donnie in an enclosure in Boston Zoo with a few lemurs and a family of sloths, and the young boy spent the first seven years of his life, essentially living with primates. It was Professor John’s idea that Donnie would be able to educate the other animals. Well of course, what happened was, that it was they who taught Donnie how to act, rather than the other way around. So, Donnie spent his first seven years eating, grooming, sleeping and playing with the other fury creatures, essentially acting like, and thinking he was, a chinchilla.
Well you can just imagine what this would do to a small boy, I mean really the poor thing! The first seven years of his life, can you just imagine that?
On his 7th birthday Mary-Anne went to see him at Boston Zoo. She took the other children and she thought she would make a day of it as she was hoping for a family portrait. However, when she saw him she was so shocked by how like a real chinchilla Donnie was acting, that she demanded he be released into her care immediately. She took him right home, and started to look after him, as mother should.
When Donnie first moved back into the apartment in Queens, with Fred, Mary-Anne and all the other Trumps, there was a transitional period where everyone had to get used to him. Obviously, he couldn’t go to school, the child wasn’t even house trained at this stage, and he still liked to climb up the curtains, so Mary-Anne suggested that he might like to take up professional wrestling and she enrolled him in a local gym.
At the beginning this worked out very well for Donnie. He loved the physicality and freeness of the sport, and he quickly learned his new craft. The gym guys liked him and he picked up English quite quickly and he slowly put away his chinchilla habits. He started eating at the table, sleeping in a bed at night time, and he controlled the jumping. By the time of his eighth birthday, he was acting like a real boy and ready for his first live evening fight in the ring, with an audience and everything.
Sadly however, on the evening of the fight, he registered his wrestling name as “Kleine Kaninchennase” out of respect to his Germanic roots. He thought the name meant “German Menace” when it actually translated as “Little Rabbit Nose”, so when he went into the ring he was met with laughter and taunts from the audience. “Little Rabbit Nose!” they shouted “Little Rabbit Nose!”
Remember this was back in 1953!
Well I mean this just brought back all the memories of the primate enclosure right back to him. All the work at the gym, with the wrestling and language acquisition and toilet training vanished, and this little boy, who was still only eight years of age, was now permanently damaged.
He would never be the same.
So I don’t care that the public doesn’t understand me! I have empathy for that little boy who grew up to the be the 324th richest man on the planet. Money doesn’t replace a mother’s love, or peer support, or going to school with the other little boys and girls. Money can’t buy love and my hear just bleeds, when I think about the other side of Donnie.
It just bleeds.
Shorter than me 
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