Alright, let’s dive into this whirlpool of thoughts. I’ve got this battered copy of the “Iliad” that’s been with me like forever, just a mess of dog-eared pages and underlined frenzy. And somehow, every time I crack it open, there’s this new spark of wisdom or chaos that spills into my brain, making me question just about everything under the sun. It’s like gazing at a mountain, right? It’s always there, unchanging, but damn if it doesn’t look different every time you see it.
Anyway, I picked it up again in January —politics swirling like a damn tempest and all. And there it was, this bizarre version of Greek tragedy mirrored in current events. Like, what if Trump landed a role in this ancient epic? Who’d he be in this wild bunch of quarrelsome, obliviously arrogant Greek dudes?
Now, picture this: epic love drama, the Greeks battering Troy for nine long, dreadfully boring years over Helen, the hottest dame in ancient literature. But no heroic rescues here— it’s just a gigantic testosterone fest spiced up with epic levels of egos. Agamemnon, the top Greek honcho, snags a priest’s daughter and then throws a spectacular tantrum when Apollo gets pissed, sends a plague, and demands he gives her back. Petty? Oh, you bet.
But Agamemnon ain’t losing alone; enters Achilles, the ultimate drama king ready to rain down chaos rather than part with his precious Briseis. Sulking like a boss, he refuses to fight until his homeboy Patroclus gets whacked by Hector, the Trojan champ. Cue epic rage return, gory revenge, but only after a weirdly touching exchange with Hector’s dad does any semblance of humanity show up.
So, who’s the Trump among these Greek legends? Start with Menelaus— kicked off the whole war because someone stole his trophy wife. But nah. He’s so background, more of a cameo in this divine comedy, not center stage like the big guy we’re thinking of. Plus, Menelaus eventually chills out and makes up with Helen. Not very Trump-ish.
And then there’s Achilles, the vein-popping tantrum master, constantly on the brink of exploding over the smallest slight. Narcissist? Check. Thin-skinned? Check. But, he eventually gets introspective. Growth, they call it. Could we ever see Trump like that? Nah.
Then it hits me: Agamemnon, the unyielding titan of arrogance. Boom. Fits Trump like a glove. This dude’s MO is force, not finesse. Wins or loses, he’s a graceless tornado of belligerence, his loyalty only to numero uno. He squats around, letting others do the dirty work, then leaps in for the accolades. A cowardly king, devouring his people says Achilles — sounds kind of familiar, huh?
You’ve got the wild card characters too—unhinged Diomedes, and sniveling Thersites — but Agamemnon. He’s the one leading this self-destructive escapade that promises salvation but offers nothing but ruin.
So there it is. The Greeks supposedly won, but their victory was as hollow as a politician’s promise. Gives you a lot to chew on, right? Wonder what Homer would say about all this madness today.
Catch you in the rabbit holes of Homer,
Jesse Browner or something.
