This is not the most important story of the post-election period but it’s the most amusing:
In the demand letter, obtained by The Washington Post, a lawyer for the Mar-a-Lago neighbors says the town should notify Trump that he cannot use Mar-a-Lago as his residence. Making that notification would “avoid an embarrassing situation” if the outgoing president moves to the club and later has to be ordered to leave, according to the letter sent on behalf of the neighbors, the DeMoss family, which runs an international missionary foundation.
For years, various neighbors have raised concerns about disruptions, such as clogged traffic and blocked streets, caused by the president’s frequent trips to the club. Even before he was president, Trump created ill will in the town by refusing to comply with even basic local requirements, such as adhering to height limits for a massive flagpole he installed, and frequently attempting to get out of the promises he had made when he converted Mar-a-Lago into a private club.
“There’s absolutely no legal theory under which he can use that property as both a residence and a club,” said Glenn Zeitz, another nearby Palm Beach homeowner who has joined the fight against Trump and had previously tangled with him over Trump’s attempt to seize a private home to expand his Atlantic City casino. “Basically he’s playing a dead hand. He’s not going to intimidate or bluff people, because we’re going to be there.”
This delicious controversy is rooted in a 1993 agreement between Trump and Palm Beach in which he agreed to use Mar-a-Lago as a club, not his residence. The neighbors are using the agreement as a club with which to beat President* Pennywise. It’s the ultimate “get the hell off my lawn” move.
And now for a musical interlude:
Neighbors, neighbors, neighbors.
I’m not usually a fan of NIMBY-ism but anything that makes the Sore Loser In Chief a pariah is fine with me. He could always return to Trump Tower in the city of his birth. Of course, NYC is full of people who hate his guts. Neighbors, neighbors, neighbors.
The Trumps could even try living among the rural yahoos he professes to love so much. That would be the most amusing outcome of this amusing problem. It could even lead a reboot of Green Acres.
Melania was born to play the Eva Gabor role in a revival of that sitcom set among the bucolic booboise. There’s even a part for Gret Stet Senator John Neely Kennedy. My friend Paul McRambles calls him Mister Haney after the con artist who is forever trying to fleece the city slickers. Just imagine Donald and Melania in Hooterville. It’s a winner, I tell you. It sure beats the hell out of an Apprentice revival.
The only downside of the Green Acres idea is that the Impeached Insult Comedian beat me to the punch:
The man is as bad a singer as a president*. I had no idea that existed since I always skip the Emmy Awards. This gives me another reason to avoid it like an indoor Christmas party at Foggy Bottom.
When I first read the WaPo story, an old Eric Clapton song came to mind. The last word comes from 461 Ocean Boulevard:
Neighbors, neighbors, neighbors.
The neighborhood folks have another advantage over Donald “Dead Hand” Trump: They have good lawyers they have the ability to pay. Dead Hand likes his lawsuits against overmatched and outgunned folks like caterers and planners, people he can push around while driving up their attorney’s fees and court costs. They eventually just give up, because really, it’s only worth the bad debt reduction anymore.