To the cavalcade of terrors that is each new report from Mar-a-Lago, let us add the nightly dance floor rein of one DJ Donald Trump.
A new report from The Guardian quotes a member of the former president’s private Palm Beach club cum spy magnet, whose eyewitness account of 45’s penchant for playing social director paints a scene somewhere between My Super Sweet Sixteen, the Stanford Prison Experiment and the “It’s a Good Life” episode of The Twilight Zone.
“At about 9.30pm every night, he’s sitting at his table, whether on the patio or inside, and they bring a laptop over and he starts picking songs, and he starts being a DJ for the night,” says the club member. “But it’s sort of funny because he picks like the same 10 songs every night.”
The member described Trump’s shift towards dance commander as a relatively new development, though the likely same ten songs selections rhyme with the regressive drift he brought our politics: Whitney Houston’s “The Greatest Love of All,” some pre-gay Elton John, the inevitable Village People “YMCA,” and other songs from mid-to-late-period Studio 54, which the maestro frequented when he was but an heir to a modest real-estate fortune, stacking up bankruptcies like Whitney stacked hits.
“Sometimes he dances to it,” the lucky witness says of “YMCA.” “He will be at his table and he’ll dance while sitting.” Free free to take a moment with that.
Later in the evening, DJ Trump’s set waxes maudlin and then ends with his perennial closer “How Great Thou Art,” a hymn popularized by Elvis Presley and a noted favorite of Trump’s dad, Fred Trump, whose own father changed the family name from Trumpf after emigrating from Bavaria, site of that era’s Mar-a-Lago, sprawling chalet The Berghof.
Fave music of presidents is a matter of record—from Kennedy’s damn Stravinsky to Obama’s oddly sucker-free playlists—but no one generated the chilling accounts of listening habits that emerge from the Trump White House. Such as former press secretary Stephanie Grisham’s recent tell-all which describes a staffer called “The Music Man” (later revealed to be Max Miller) who was assigned to play show tunes to soothe an aggrieved POTUS, including his, favorite “Memory” from Cats.
While the proprietor dances in his seat, Mar-a-Lago draws foreign spies like Aqua Net draws flies, experts say.
“[Trump]’s brought in really questionable people with various skeletons in their closets, financial or personal or political, who have vulnerabilities a foreign intelligence service could exploit,” 34-year CIA clandestine service vet Douglas London told The Guardian. And beyond the chill ambience of the dance floor, as buzzed guests wander to and fro, any number of top-secret government documents might drift in and out with them, the crooning of The Village People echoing through Spanish-Moorish tiles.
“Without any question, the former president, and those in his circle will be very important targets for any foreign intelligence service,” London said. “They will be looking at: how do we get into that circle?”
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