My hair isn’t what I imagine it is, flowing locks of youthful rebellion, blinding the establishment with it’s vibrancy. Instead, it’s more of a matted mess. Finally, when I can no longer deny I look and feel like I live under a bridge, I head to the barbers to return me to civilization.

I go when no one else is there, midday. Less waiting. I have nothing better to do at that time other than write lengthy diatribes to you about modern living, but I prefer to do my sulking at night anyway, while most Americans sleep and the mythological truths of life are at their most apparent.

The American barbershop is an inherently political establishment. It is one of the few areas where the working class still gather and the presence of a television is minimized or outright absent. People really talk at a barbershop, and although the discourse is underdeveloped, its still more substantive than anything you’ll hear from the elites on the Sunday morning talk shows.

“He tells it like it is,” the chorus sang as I walked in.  “He ain’t beholden to no one,” one customer pipped up. “And he can win.” I immediately recognized the topic of discussion, but said nothing.

They were ready for me right away. I sat in the stool by the window, just like always. It’s the same one I’ve had my hair cut for over 20 years now. Always on a Saturday, because it’s the only day I’m sure I’ll be able to get that seat and that barber. Fear of change keeps me from going anywhere else.

“It looks like your hair is coming in a bit thicker on the top,” my barber, Rinaldo said. “I know the day after they bury me, they’ll find a real cure for baldness.” He’s a stocky guy who never misses a chance to lament his lack of hair. He’s also very political in a non-partisan everyman way. He and every other person there was convinced of presidential hopeful Donald Trump’s authenticity.

“Trump says we can stop ISIS by taking their oil,” a customer said loud enough for everyone to hear. “You take their wealth and they can’t fight anymore.”

“Yeah, that might work,” Rinaldo replied. “Those ISIS guys are bad news… a bunch of lunatics.”

Trump recently called himself the most “militaristic person in the room,” but says murderous violence needs to be used correctly. To what end is never addressed, but the implication is that force is preferable so long as there is no blowback.

Trump has what I like to call a Transformers-esque foreign policy. What’s the plot? What do the bad guys want? Who cares?! These racist robots with testicles don’t need a reason to kick Decepticon butt. Now let’s get to the explosions. It’s no wonder he’s so popular.

Donald Trump truly is the voice of the people. Trump is brash, unapologetic, and completely without pretense of sophistication. His political views appear to be based on gut instinct and have no cohesive or specific qualities. In all, a perfect match for the American public, especially the Republican Party which always prefers direct violence to anything resembling a measured response.

“There’s just one problem with his approach,” I interrupted. “ISIS, those are our guys… CIA and the Obama administration I mean. They helped create ISIS to fight Assad and the US military still needs them to fight in Syria.”

According to a new memoir by Lt. Gen. Michael Flynn, the now retired head of the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA), the military  fully intended to arm and fund Al Queda in Iraq to fight against Assad in Syria at least far back as 2011. Many anti-war critics predicted arming “moderate” Syrian rebels might backfire should they ever gain power in the country or expand their operations elsewhere. We now know not only was this exactly what happened, but the Pentagon knew this outcome was likely.

“Even if that’s the case,” Rinaldo said. “What are we going to do about them now? This Frankenstein monster you say we’ve created? We’ve got to hit them.”

My reply, paraphrasing Jesus, “You live by the sword, you die by the sword.”

“Well, yeah that’s true,” he said. That about killed the conversation, as my opinions tend to do. I’m such a buzzkill. The few remaining customers paid and cleared out, but we weren’t done talking about Trump.

“You know, in Germany… before Hitler I mean, the political parties were a lot like ours,” he said as he clipped about scatter-shot around my head.

“Yeah, they were totally hated.”

“Right. And Hitler came in and started telling everyone what they wanted to hear. What were their two main political parties again?” He had just about stopped cutting my hair by this point. “You don’t have any where to go do you?”

“No. It’s fine.” I said. “I can’t remember their names, but they were a part of the Wiemar Republic.”

“Wiemar… Well, it doesn’t matter. Basically, they couldn’t tell their heads from their backsides and really messed up their country. Hitler came in and called them out on their baloney. That’s how he got in.”

“So you’re saying Trump is a demagogue?” I asked.

“Well, I think a lot of people just want someone to do something.”

That really cuts to the heart of Trump’s appeal. So tight is the grip of the establishment oligarchs, so mechanized is seemingly every component of life, that voting for someone who retains even the slightest passion and individuality is appealing.

The commodity culture that rose out of the advertising age told people they could purchase a sense of identity through the pride of ownership. This is problematic in a country with so much debt it eclipses the faint illusion of dignity that debt buys. Similarly, politics promises one can vote for an identity. It may seem completely illogical that voting for a politician could ever fill the massive hole in their lives roughly shaped like a soul, but so too is buying a car, or a house, or any other plastic piece of junk.

Trump’s pompous and aggressive behavior appeals to the Republican base, who would settle for a kick in the face for every man, woman, and child if it would give their lonely lives just the slightest bit of meaning. But his broad support extends well beyond the Republican party. However misplaced, Trump benefits from the desperation of a dispossessed middle class as the nation’s institutions prove incapable of solving virtually any problem.

Americans are becoming desperate in their rejection of traditional politics. Nihilism is emerging as the dominant political movement of the 21st century. And when nothing is true, everything is permitted… even voting for a total lunatic.

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