Arts &
  Arts Culture Analysis  
Vol. 21, No. 3, 2022
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Robert J. Lewis
  Senior Editor
Jason McDonald
  Contributing Editors
Louis René Beres
David Solway
Nick Catalano
Chris Barry
Don Dewey
Howard Richler
Jordan Adler
Andrew Hlavacek
Daniel Charchuk
  Music Editors
Serge Gamache
  Arts Editor
Lydia Schrufer
Mady Bourdage
Jerry Prindle
Chantal Levesque
Emanuel Pordes
  Past Contributors
  Noam Chomsky
Mark Kingwell
Naomi Klein
Arundhati Roy
Evelyn Lau
Stephen Lewis
Robert Fisk
Margaret Somerville
Mona Eltahawy
Michael Moore
Julius Grey
Irshad Manji
Richard Rodriguez
Navi Pillay
Ernesto Zedillo
Pico Iyer
Edward Said
Jean Baudrillard
Bill Moyers
Barbara Ehrenreich
Leon Wieseltier
Nayan Chanda
Charles Lewis
John Lavery
Tariq Ali
Michael Albert
Rochelle Gurstein
Alex Waterhouse-Hayward


the presidency and



Donald Dewey has written some 40 books of fiction and nonfiction, as well as contributed scores of stories to magazines and other periodicals. He has also had some 30 plays staged in Europe and the United States. Dewey was editor of the ASME-award winning magazine Attenzione and was editorial director of the East-West Network, overseeing a dozen in-flight magazines and the PBS organ Dial. Don's latest book, Nullo, is now available.

I encountered my first Donald Trump follower almost 50 years ago, when the demagogue was still learning scams from his father and had yet to conceive such flim-flam operations as his college for dubious learning. The acolyte was a drifter around Europe who sometimes thought of himself as a novelist and other times as a songwriter and all the time as a poet. That I know, Bill (let's call him that) never published a book, recorded a song, or gave a reading, but for me he has always defined the narcissistic delusions of the Trump crowd.

Bill's field of fancy was his height, which he informed most people at first meeting was a good two inches higher than anyone else's in sight. This claim was of spiritual importance to him, coming as it usually did with an alleged warning passed on from his mother that anyone shorter would have been defective. At first, most of us let Bill have his obsession even though two of us stood clear inches above him. But one night ripped it, especially for a woman he had been seeing, and she challenged him to stand up back to back with me and my fellow giraffe to put an end to the vain boasting. Bill couldn't accept the challenge fast enough. Up we three stood, with Bill measuring as high against both of us around where a barber would have his scissor blades clacking against only each other in search of a head with hair. Relief among us was clarion: We would no longer have to listen to the height delirium. But wait, not so fast! "Convinced now?" Bill asked cockily.

Then and there the closest to an answer was six or seven people rolling their eyes and searching out new gods of patience in the Milky Way. A couple of days later, the woman who had been sharing a bed with Bill got tired of waiting for better song lyrics from him. From an historical point of view, however, that evening has mostly remained with me as the first serious ounterattack on our lying eyes. Clearly, there could have been no arguing with Bill. Physical demonstrations didn't count. Witnesses didn't count. Whatever glimpse of reality the subject might have been exposed to didn't count. The only thing that counted was what Bill not only believed but what he had to believe (or be dismissed as defective). Not all religions required altars inside buildings.

Extending such monomania into the political realm, we don't have to be told these days, creates additional problems. Especially delicate is the diplomatic one. Preferring to think of ourselves as sensitive people, we hang back from branding a Bill type as being simply stupid. That would also be counterproductive, encouraging debate about the motives of atheists who refused to believe nothing as something. No question that there should be limits to patience in dealing with a Bill as a political problem, but even 50 years ago on a personal level the Milky Way yielded no appropriate god for the challenge. Standing around with our thumbs up the Fox Network hasn't really been much of a compensation.

Thinking about Bill hasn't been only a dismal journey into night, however. If only aspirationally, he wanted to be viewed as a novelist, a songwriter, and a poet, not a security guard or cashier. Somewhere inside his neurons he had a semblance of respect for imagination or was at least aware that others had respect for it and that he might profit from an ostensible sympathy for it. And being imaginative and being delusional are hardly perfect opposites. A delusional imagination is in fact far more at home in Trumpville than commonly credited. All those robotic 'fake news' dismissals, for instance, are aimed as much against the non-delusional kind of imagination as against specific accusations for the occasion. Conjuring up external visions, what might be termed regulation illusions, implies loss of personal control. If the Bills have proven anything by now, it is that nothing 'out there' --- real or unreal --- matters.

Except for being considered defective.


Also by Donald Dewey:
Baseball's Alibi City
Sorry For Your Troubles
The Odd Trio
Baseball After Hours
Ebbets Field: Where Legens Were Made
Capricorn Three
Baseball, Myth, and the Gods of Summer Pt. I
Baseball, Myth and the Gods of Summer Pt. II
Double Bill
Heroes and Victims
The Relationships Conundrum
The Finger
Smoke Blowers
Noticing Death
Passive Resistance
Not Playing It Safe
The Expectation Medium
Crisis in Critics
Words Not to Live By
Knowing the Killer
Racism to the Rescue
Punk Times
Not Playing It Safe
Meeting the Author
The Overwriting Syndrome
Writers As Ideas
Let Them Entertain Us
It's a Kindergarten Life
Being and Disconnectedness
History of Humour in the Cinema
Cartoon Power


Don Dewey's latest book, entitled Nullo, is about Danny, a reporter for a New York daily, who receives a deus ex machina for his frazzled life when a bureaucratic snafu sends the wrong coffin from Italy. Soon, he finds himself assigned to Rome to escort the sister of the man who should have been in the coffin.

As he accompanies her dance through Italian red tape, he realizes two things -- that he is in love with her and that he is far more interested in the story of the Italian whose body had been sent to New York than in that of her deceased brother. The dilemma becomes only more complicated when a third body is found to have been misplaced and when one of the three turns out not to be very dead.

You can purchase Nullo through Sunbury Press at or anywhere books are sold.











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