Fake Views for the Jews from the Writers You (Shouldn’t) Trust
The only thing Trump loves more than smashing the mold is flashing the gold.
Sometimes, you get to do both.
For a leader still gleeful about his new rule over numerous states, what better celebration party is there than a party celebration? Shushan-esque, only closest allies were invited, sending a message for ends and frenemies that in this White House, if you want a ticket to the ballroom, you have to play ball.
The inaugural White House Purim party, inaugurating the White House Ballroom by a newly inaugurated president, marked a similar inaugural party put on millennia ago by the flashiest chief executive without orange hair. But for a player with a memory longer than his own tie, history is just dessert.
The message Trump’s feast sent to Iran is already being dissected like frogs in France or shrimp in Shushan, and analyzed in greater detail than zachor versus zecher in Brisk. For critics, it’s another example of nepotism, intoxication, and indulgence to rival Xerxes himself; for supporters, it’s a masterstroke of historicity, a no-nonsense decision to use the gaudy and tawdry as a tactic, pushing for the art of the deal during the art of the meal, even if it comes at the expense of golden chalices. So, which is it? Seudah or suitor?
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