(After fasting through the Winter Solstice, Poor Tom puts on his clothes and comes in from the cold.)
OK friends, I apologize. As some of you realized, Poor Tom was just a naked disguise, and his impenetrable essays on Irony were no more than a post-election distraction for an old man -- an old man fearing for his grandchildren, trying to step back and love the world from an ironic distance, a literary perspective.
Still, it was a timely topic.
The primary definition of irony -- saying one thing and meaning another -- is Trumpspeak, the new lingua franca of our land. A University means a scam. I grabbed her by the private parts means I didn't do anything. "Make America Great Again" means make the rich richer. "Lock her up" means drop the case. A Wall means a fence, and then nothing. NATO means NADA.
Everything he says means nothing -- he speaks in the moment only, and the meaning disappears like a post on Snapchat. This is the ultimate in irony -- not the distance between one meaning and another, but the distance between meaning and non-meaning, being and nothingness.
(With little hope but firm resolve, Poor Tom puts on a scholar's robe, shakes his sleeves and begins to speak into the air)
Listen up, Mr. President-elect: