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Trump Appears to Shove Republican Lackey Out of the Way at Mar-a-Lago Event

Everyone knows a shover.

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My father-in-law, rest his soul, was a shover. As in, one who shoves.

His intentions were never bad, he just had places to be, couches to sit on, bacon to cook, and so forth. Frank would literally grab you by both shoulders and move you to where he needed in order to pass. It wasn’t hard; the man was huge.

But nobody actually likes being shoved.

Many people remember Trump shoving the Prime Minister of Montenegro out of the way so he could get to the front of a photo-op during a NATO summit in Brussels, Belgium. But most chalked it up to just being kind of a dumbass, like when he walked in front of the Queen of England.

This was nobody near as important, but still indicative of how he views other humans as insignificant next to him.

You can judge for yourself whether Trump is shoving or “patting on the back,” as others have suggested:

The shovee, as it were, turns out to be Garret Ventry, the idiot who was instrumental in getting Brett Kavanaugh seated on the Supreme Court. Ventry kind of deserved the shove, honestly, although not for a reason that Trump would acknowledge. Let’s just say that if Trump had hit him with his car, Trump wouldn’t care and I would do a tiny little dance.

Ventry, if you’ll recall, resigned from his post as Chuck Grassley’s (R-IA) aide after it was discovered that he had sexual assault allegations against him and that he’d lied on his resume.

Does anything sound out of character for an attendee at a Mar-a-Lago event?

And remember, Trump loves giving someone a good, hard shove:

In any case, it’s hard to imagine that Trump has much else on his mind than the half a billion dollars he’s recently been ordered to pat to both E. Jean Carroll, the former journalist that he raped, and the state of New York.

The judgments against him have been absolutely historic in both their size and the added ban on Trump doing business in New York for a period of three years.

I think I would probably be shoving people out of the way as well.

Andrew Simpson
meet the author

Andrew is a dark blue speck in deep red Central Washington, writing with the conviction of 18 years at the keyboard and too much politics to even stand. When not furiously stabbing the keys on breaking news stories, he writes poetry, prose, essays, haiku, lectures, stories for grief therapy, wedding ceremonies, detailed instructions on making doughnuts from canned biscuit dough (more sugar than cinnamon — duh), and equations to determine the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow. A girlfriend, a dog, two cats, and two birds round out the equation, and in his spare time, Drewbear likes to imagine what it must be like to have spare time.

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