The clothes make the man

This is my great grandfather, Abraham Siegel. At least that's what I was told by late uncle Ronnie, who had a stash of very old photos tucked away, amongst the countless extension chords, drill bits and reams of unused copy paper, in his massive garage.

Abe, I don't think he'd mind the familiarity, was a stern looking Germanic man. And "lived" in what was known as The Pale of Settlement. If I'm going by 23andme, my best guess is he was from region near Poland and Belarus. 

When asked what he did for a living before emigrating to the states, I'm told he was a tailor. 

And judging from above, the one and only picture I have of him, he does appear to be quite a snappy dresser and no stranger to a fine Teutonic haberdashery. Which is quite unusual given that my grandfather was, well let's be kind and say, "not so snappy." Nor did he have to be, to drive a taxi, er, I'm sorry...cab, in New York City. That was his particular skill. Oh and he also had the ability to pick a losing horse with inordinate consistency at Belmont Park.

"Crackers and soup for dinner again?"

Now, I'm no fashionista. People generally don't approach me for sartorial advice. Though the man at the gas station did say he liked my shirt while filling up my propane tanks ( I have the video to prove it.) Nor should they since I am the owner of ONE multi purpose suit. Being hauled out of mothballs as we speak for an upcoming nuptual.

But I know what I know. And this, if I may quote a real estate agent I was talking to, is, "Wrong in all the wrong places."

With the non-stop insanity spewing from his pie hole and the rapid decay of cognition, no one -- save for Hannibal Lecter and Frederick Douglas -- seems to be talking about his god awful, shitty looking suits. 

You would think that the billionaire -- life is so unfair -- that sits in a chair while stylists carefully sculpt the 38 white hairs on his dome into something resembling the deck of an aircraft carrier, would take more than 10 minutes with a skilled tailor. 

Maybe he does. And therein lies the tell.

Because if he won't listen to a someone who knows a thing or two about suits, like my great grandfather, "we need to take in the waist, shorten the pants, and get you a new tie", what are the chances he'd listen to advisors and four star generals telling him not to bomb Iran and purposelessly kill 175 schoolgirls.

Fuck Trump. 

Every which way til Wednesday.