Trump reminds me of a guy on a three day drunk. He starts out with a Friday party, boisterous, loud and obnoxious, continually making inappropriate comments and making people feel uncomfortable. Tells big lies to impress people. Then he drives home stone faced drunk and endangers everyone around him.
By Saturday, he's bloated and red faced but starts drinking again and heads to the country club without a shower. The only members that will play golf with him are the ones in similar shape. But this is part of his game. Surround yourself with enablers and people as gross as you are so the bubble isn't pierced with the cutting knife of reality.
Over the 18 holes, he continues to drink and tells tall tales about all the women that hit on him during the party last night. In reality, the number is zero, but in his vodka soaked brain, he left the party with Miss America. He's rude to the workers at the club, despite bragging about his wealth, he doesn't tip. There's nothing in his pocket but a couple of crumpled ones and his club dues are in arrears.
By Sunday, he stinks and has pissed himself. The dog hasn't been fed in two days and the house reeks of vomit and shit. He stumbles around looking for an old bottle, but it's all gone, just like his family, his friends and business associates. He's decrepit and broken, but still sees himself as riding high and as the guy that's the life of the party.
Eventually, the sheriff will knock on the door and deliver a summons or an eviction notice.
He's hopeless, because he'll never admit he has a problem. Everyone else has the problem. Everyone else wishes he'd just go away.