The office requires that the president play many roles, wear many hats. He must be accessible to the public and to members of Congress; he must conduct affairs with foreign governments and foreign dignitaries; he may need to make public appearances and keep up certain traditions.

Wartime, or any time when American soldiers are in battle and experiencing many casualties, constrains a president’s behavior somewhat. His commander-in-chief role becomes more prominent. Some of the light-hearted presidential perquisites must be put aside. This is not difficult to understand.

When you are the president, you do not play golf 104 times while troops are in the field, fighting and dying. You do not do this. That’s not even something a serious person, an adult with a brain, would contemplate.

There are many other ways, private ways, to relax and let the burdens of the presidency down for a moment. Americans expect their president to take care of his health and his sanity by offloading his burdens in this way. No, this public display on the golf links is deliberate. This man has been made well aware, for quite some time, of the implied messaging of this thing. Yet he duffs merrily on, cheating on his scores, laughing and yukking it up as if there’s not a care in the world.

It’s a slap in the face, an insult of the lowest kind, to America, to troops, and to the families and loved ones of the some 1700 brave patriots who have died under his command. These young men volunteered to serve their Republic, their Flag, their Constitution. They did so, fully aware that they might be killed in action. To merely say “they deserve better” falls woefully short. They deserve our whole nation’s enduring love and gratitude. And by God, they deserve at least the appearance of dignity from their president.

A person who can do such a thing is not, and could never be, my president.

E Pluribus Unum
The weapons had evolved, but our orders remained the same: Hunt them down and kill them off, one by one. A most successful campaign. Perhaps too successful. For those like me, a Death Dealer, this signaled the end of an era. Like the weapons of the previous century, we, too, would become obsolete.

Pity, because I lived for it.