So now our country borders two bodies of water, each recently renamed after the Italian explorer America Vespucci, who had nothing whatsoever to do with what used to be called the Gulf of Mexico or Lake Ontario. This is what happens when you give a two-year-old a permanent marker. All it takes is one seismographic signature, and voila! Trump can rename anything, evidently.
Time was when I imagined that I, too, was invested with such powers. Somewhere in the public lands where I roamed as a kid you may come across a rock cairn containing a Prince Albert tobacco tin. Inside is a handwritten deed proclaiming a particular mesa “Menzies Mountain.” It was my first attempt at achieving immortality–a goal I have since learned is not possible. Fact is, nothing lasts, including Donald Trump’s Ozymandian delusions.
Nothing is written in stone, let alone on water.
