Donny Trump is almost - almost - an adorable, talkative, laughably vindictive little boy who hasn't quite figured out the mysteries of the world yet. But in the end, after any - any - given ninety seconds of him talking, it is evident that he is a grown-up, judging by years of existence, who sadly never learned a hornswozzle about honesty, thoughtful idea processing, respect, true strength that balances both confidence and humility, and..kindness.

I am sad and angry for whatever in his upbringing, his genetics, his environment and experiences led him to this level of public malnourishment in these areas.

Given a fundamental position of the political spectrum he claims to represent is one of

personal responsibility,

it is tragicomic that he,

one who has never made a mistake too big enough to blame somebody else for,

is now representative of that ideal.

In the end, he's not a young, chatty, annoying little boy with a lot to learn. He's an adult man with a vendetta against facts and a very un-Christianlike faith in his own infallibility. I am embarrassed to share a gender with him. He does not represent any notion of manhood, masculinity, or true strength that I will support.

Or ever want my fellow males - son, brothers, friends - to model.

Thanks Dad, brothers, Oncle, and many friends for being part of my locker room. A locker room that respects women enough to not limp around with the weak crutch of 'boys will be boys' feeble, frail, archaic thinking.

Also, if you read Girl on the Train and liked it, you should check out The Passenger. Solid.