Gov. Cox’s flip-flop—he’s gone a-whorin’ for Trump 

Poor Gov. Spencer Cox.

He was an adamant never-Trumper—vowing that America’s crime-boss would never receive his vote. He didn’t vote for Trump the first time or the second, and had always been resolute in his moral decision to withhold support. Kiss Trump’s ring? Cox would rather have died—or so we thought.

After all, Cox had plenty of good reasons for condemning the man who was—and is—the poster boy for most things wrong with our world, a man whose dishonesty, greed and grifts have horrified the moral majority while garnering the support of America’s rich, entitled and powerful underbelly.

Reviewing the past, it’s no secret that Trump is an abjectly soulless man. His lack of contrition, his refusal to take responsibility and his love and perpetuation of the lie are no secret. He stinks of the typical symptoms that divide toxic narcissists from the rest of us.

Remember; both supporters and detractors have the same set of facts, and it’s easy to remember Trump’s most shocking behavior. Despite those facts, there are plenty of politicians and constituents who are able to ignore elephants in their living rooms.

Though Gov. Cox’s theme has been to unify our nation, he knows that Trump is the opposite—that Trump is guilty of fomenting more hate and division than any other president in modern memory and has used position and power to monetize the presidency and further corrupt our already unhealthy political machine. People fear Trump; people know he’s not trustworthy; the decent people loathe his absence of character and dismally low morals. And yet, there is a certain percentage who actually believe that relinquishing America’s helm to a tyrant and traitor can somehow help to save it.

That’s hogwash. Wherever Gov. Cox previously stood, his high ground has turned into quicksand—all because he’s rationalized that a shooter’s bad marksmanship was a providential sign from God. This is a tragic moment in Utah history, and every Utahn should be questioning how a man of reputable character and integrity has suddenly “changed his spots.” “Should” is the operative word.

The sad truth is that Cox, whatever he should be doing, is just another reflection of Utahn’s inclination for magical thinking and the notion that everything that happens, happens for a purpose. That’s an idea that goes far beyond stupid, although predestination is certainly a tenet of some religions.

Trump is no miracle, and Cox understands it. The governor’s fall from grace doesn’t necessarily mean he isn’t aware of the score. He’s no dummy, and he understands that Trump is a corrupt and dangerous man. He simply made a trade. He saw the opportunity to give the GOP what it wanted in the hopes of seeing the king’s raised scepter at some future opportunistic juncture. Cox’s only requirement was to simply relinquish his homo-erectus status and forfeit his spine.

After some very visible and vocal efforts aimed at unifying Utah’s politically “diverse” (haha) population—and lots of heart-felt declarations on how we must all strive to embrace diversity, end our bickering, identify our common challenges and find ways to come together—Cox has suddenly been distracted by the miracles-and-magic show.

The reality is Cox knows that allying himself with evil is a means of promoting his own status. In a widely publicized letter to ex-Pres. Trump, he wrote: "Your life was spared. Now, because of that miracle, you have the opportunity to do something that no other person on earth can do right now: unify and save our country." After all of Cox’s dog-and-pony show about a kinder America, he’s willing to give power to a monster who ravaged the spirit of cooperation—something that could have been nurtured by a more decent sort of man.

Trump’s nicked ear, in what could have easily ridded our country of its most prominent felon, has become an emblem of a holy intervention. In a nutshell, Americans are seeing how folk tales and legends can arise from the accidents and coincidences of life. I’m sure that Trump will soon be beatified by the Pope, and that pieces of him, when he’s finally gone, will be distributed as holy relics at churches throughout Christendom. The staunchly religious will drive for days to see DJT’s first molar in a glass case, and some of the lucky ones will be able to view his eyeballs in a sealed bottle of formaldehyde.

As for Gov. Cox, he’s taken the whole thing a bit too far, losing his marbles and his morals, all in one fell swoop. After a lifetime of conscientious decency and conscience, he’s decided that he’s a saleable commodity and that it’s OK to solicit.

Cox’s nicely-tied Windsor, pressed shirts and shiny shoes have suddenly been replaced by fishnet stockings, overdone lipstick, a skimpy halter top, miniskirt and stiletto heels. His focus has gone from respectability to opportunism, and he’s willing to prostitute himself for a high post in a Trump kingdom. Who knows; he could, after this shocking change in personal integrity, become Trump’s attorney general or even the lord-high-executioner, whacking off the heads of Trump’s notable foes.

Somewhere between naivety and stupidity, Cox has managed to forfeit his previously realistic view of Donald Trump, and adopted the hollow promise that the unfortunate marksmanship of the rally shooter was some kind of sign from God. Cox used Trump’s own words in describing the great opportunity ahead: A man who’s detestable in virtually every respect is going to “save America.” Cox is seeing Trump as our savior.

Sadly, Cox has something coming: the hard facts that Donald Trump has no real supporters, will use and exploit anyone who’s willing to sell their soul, and that it simply isn’t possible to rub shoulders with trash without smelling like sewage.

You may think, Gov. Cox, that you can swim in the slime and remain clean and shiny, but that’s not how it works. A little time and you will understand that your stiletto heels aren’t enough to keep your feet clean and dry.

The author is a retired businessman, novelist, columnist and former Vietnam-era Army assistant public information officer. He resides in Riverton with his wife, Carol, and their adorable and ferocious dog “Poppy.”