Trump terminated his blog because being an influencer isn’t all about getting attention

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Have mercy on the failed influencer Donald Trump.

After 29 days and only around 50 posts, Trump’s bizarre experience in what his team presented as a “new communication platform”(Or at least the hustle and bustle of an intern at lunchtime) has ended. He would have met her demise because Trump had reached his limit for public ridicule – which, you know, whoa, if that’s true. (This, after all, would be a far more interesting event than the disappearance of a simple corporate awareness shot, which was obsolete before anyone even clicked “Publish.”)

A more objective reason for ending Trump’s attempt to offset his ban by all major social media is that it was a dismal failure, with every pathetic bleating drowned out by the sound of millions of people paying attention to pretty much everything else. . The Washington Post increased employee working hours to find out what was more popular than “From Donald J. Trump’s Office” (Petfinder and the Delish Kitchen site) than anyone in Mar-a-Lago has ever put on.

Like much of Trump’s work, “From the Desk of Donald J. Trump” was a briefly thought out kludge, extruded from Trump’s signature combination of whim, ignorance, and laziness.

Trump broke the cardinal rule of fame: he made it clear how badly he wanted it.

Now I’m just a country former Wonkette – a political blog, probably before your time – but I have some practice with Internet fame and obscurity, and I feel qualified to offer expert advice on what went wrong. (I also read a bunch of articles on “how to be an influencer.”)

Judging from my experience and several sites that promised to teach me more about influence if I signed up for their webinar, Trump did a lot of good in his post-presidency social media campaign! He identified a niche: terrified racists. He was consistent in his signature style: terrified racism. And it has remained relevant, finding ways to distort seemingly irrelevant information (the Kentucky Derby winner failing drug test) in the fodder for more terrified racism – the positive Medina Spirit test was, after all, just another example of how “the whole world laughs at us as we go to hell on our borders, our bogus presidential election and everywhere else! “

So what went wrong? My future webinar instructors might point out his failure to “collaborate with other influencers” or “improve your hashtag game” or even “run interactive events.”

But I have another theory. It is thirst. Trump broke the cardinal rule of fame: he made it clear how badly he wanted it.

Trump’s all-consuming desire for worship has always been both a feature and a bug in his glitch wetware. It was a strength because his need for global validation freed him from the norms and conventions that bind most of us within the limits of self-respect. It was his willingness to say whatever would earn him support – and not care at all who that support came from – that placed him in a position to benefit from the tragically peculiar elections of 2016.

You cannot demand that people listen to what you have to say and force them to do so unless nuclear football is not far behind you when you say it.

The disadvantages of pursuing mass devotion are more evident. Within these ill-fitting costumes is a vast void where the ego should be, a black hole that no amount of praise or elation can fill. It makes him do stupid things and believe even more stupid things; I guess “From the Desk of Donald J. Trump” started out as a sycophant waving a bunch of buzzwords to appease him, which became the kind of overpromised but barely studied premise that brought us, well , the entire Trump presidency.

Want to know what the plan was – and is, because apparently there’s more in the works – for Trump’s new “social media platform”? Just look at Infrastructure Week: there isn’t one.

What is clear now is that no one in Mar-a-Lago bothered to tell Trump that social media reach is not a permanent power advantage; it is a measure of attention. You cannot demand that people listen to what you have to say and force them to do so unless nuclear football is not far behind you when you say it. Followers are not (usually) “followers” in the sectarian sense, and they will sideline you if you don’t have the amplification that comes with a pre-existing network and pre-existing power structure.

Once the networks cut off Trump’s access to virtual airwaves, the core weaknesses of Trump’s act became evident: He became popular because he played an outrageous version with a familiar tune.

Trump’s personality, his “platform,” his ideas, his ideology, or even his garish taste – none of this is what his base of white Americans never responded to. If there was anything about Trump as Trump they were responding to, it was the endlessness of his desperation for attention and the license that came with it. Trump’s filthy smoothness strikes them as permission to let their own ugly desires shine through. Some of us saw it as sweat; others just saw the sparkle.

He was not an innovator or a shrewd operator; he was an extremely lucky sociopath who discovered that white people really like it when he was as racist as they wanted.

And now they are.

This is why Trump’s greedy volleys today radiate the same pathetic loneliness I heard in the voices of former boyfriends reminding me of how they introduced me to chess or Sam Peckinpah’s movies or the kitchen. Thai. It’s not that they didn’t; it’s because i played chess so much, watched peckinpah and ate thai food without them that i love these things on my own now.

The funny thing about Trump is that he dove into the social media platform game purely out of insecurity, and he doesn’t seem to realize he has what most influencers are looking for. : a real influence. His focus on adulation blinds him to his true power – something that cannot be measured in terms of likes, clicks, or links. He’s changed American politics so much that other racists don’t need him anymore.

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