Voting Narcissistic Sociopath — Until Now – The New York Times
I’ve always voted for narcissistic sociopaths. Whenever a narcissistic sociopath runs for office, I donate, volunteer and cast my vote for him.
Until this year.
To convey how difficult this has been for me, let me establish some context. My father was a card-carrying narcissistic sociopath, and one of my fondest childhood memories is pulling the lever in the voting booth after he’d selected the narcissistic sociopathic candidate and then flicked me in the eyeball. On Sunday afternoons, our living room would turn into a salon, with my parents’ friends drinking coffee and discussing how to spread narcissistic sociopathic values as they slept with one another’s spouses, stole the silver and poisoned our goldfish with Drano.
“Your first duty is to the survival needs of the self: food, water, shelter,” my father would solemnly tell me. “Your second is to the emotional needs of the self: rousing up fear and respect from your enemies and so-called allies. Only then do you take care of the casual entertainment needs of the self: traveling abroad to golf resorts, laughing at funerals, buying Hammacher Schlemmer gadgets. Now, tell me you love me.” I’d express how much I loved him. “That’s so funny,” he’d say, “because I don’t love you at all. Neither does your mother. Actually, no one does.”
On his deathbed, ailing from the Drano his best friend had poured into his coffee, he pulled me close and whispered, “Promise you’ll always support the narcissistic sociopathic party,” before flicking me in the eyeball, spritzing Binaca in his mouth and dying.
Sure, I rebelled a bit in college, briefly considered narcissistic psychopaths, had a fling with sociopathic narcissists and, of course, experimented with libertarianism. But on Election Day, I still voted narcissistic sociopath up and down the ballot. Self-aggrandizing oratory, the mercurial backstabbing of loyalists, callous disregard for anyone else’s well-being: The party’s bedrock principles would bring a tear to my eye if I had the capacity to feel tenderness.
Sorry, Dad. I can’t do it.
Donald Trump has given narcissistic sociopaths a bad name. O.K., fine, he ridicules war heroes, berates infants and fantasizes shamelessly about dating his own daughter. Sounds great, right? A textbook narcissistic sociopath, yes?
Mr. Trump is a fraud dressed in the narcissistic sociopath’s own branded clothing line, spouting with no conviction the movement’s platform of praising dictators and calling women who haven’t slept with you disgusting. He has merely declared “All Lives Matter,” not “No Lives Other Than Mine Matter.” While he did bring up shooting someone in the street and still not losing any votes as a hypothetical demonstration of his popularity, he hasn’t followed through on his boldly inspirational proposal. And though he encouraged the assassination of his opponent, he did not personally issue a bounty while pounding his naked, oiled chest.
Is this the slapdash approach to grandiosity and ruthlessness we really want as an example for our children? Not in my America, Jack.
For a while I thought, Well, he may not be a traditional narcissistic sociopath, but he’s certainly better than Hillary. (Though I did vote for her husband.) But I’ve reached my breaking point.
“Sometimes, in the heat of debate and speaking on a multitude of issues,” he told a crowd, “you don’t choose the right words or you say the wrong thing. I have done that. And believe it or not, I regret it … particularly where it may have caused personal pain.”
This sounds almost like an apology — and even acknowledges that other people may feel pain. Talk about adding insult to injury! (Which is, incidentally, the sequence of actions favored by narcissistic sociopaths to make the kindergartner or great-grandmother you’ve just tripped feel worse about herself.)
My father is rolling in the mausoleum he built for himself with the proceeds from selling his newborns’ kidneys, wondering how today’s narcissistic sociopaths could betray him so cruelly, even if cruel betrayal is a central plank of their policy.
With calm, teleprompter-cued statements like this, it’s hard to believe that Mr. Trump, who has staked his campaign on erratically screaming his self-serving, conscienceless mind, is the die-hard narcissistic sociopath he wants us to think he is. Because, the sad truth is, he’s not.
He’s just another politician.