We've known for a long time that Donald Trump has a worrisome diet, especially compared to the likes of his presidential predecessors. Remember Barack Obama's seven lightly-salted almonds? Multiply the calories in that nightly snack by approximately one thousand and you'll get just one of Trump's campaign meals, according to a new book from former Trump associates Corey Lewandowski and David Bossie. “On Trump Force One," the authors write in Let Trump Be Trump, "there were four major food groups: McDonald’s, Kentucky Fried Chicken, pizza and Diet Coke." No wonder his brain seems to perform sluggishly at times.
Lewandowski and Bossie also revealed that during campaign stops at McDonald's, Trump would order two Big Macs, two Filet-O-Fish sandwiches and a chocolate milkshake, which the Guardian newspaper estimates amounts to a staggering 2,420 calories. Trump Force One, the campaign airplane, also had to be stocked with cookies and snacks in large quantities because Trump doesn't like to eat from previously opened packages. In addition to junk food, the theme of the campaign trail seems to have been rage: the authors write that Trump would scream expletive-filled rants at aids, who had their "face[s] ripped off." “The mode that he switches into when things aren’t going his way can feel like an all-out assault...It’d break most hardened men and women into little pieces.” (Let's not forget that Corey Lewandowski himself grabbed a Breitbart reporter by the arm so hard on the campaign trail that he was charged with one count of simple battery.)
Previously, members of Trump's team have tried to explain away or even aggrandize his diet by saying that it reflects his connection to "normal"—read, blue-collar—Americans. Kellyanne Conway once told the New York Times that she thinks “It goes with his authenticity," going on to take a swipe at presidential candidate Hillary Clinton: "I don’t think Hillary Clinton would be eating Popeye’s biscuits and fried chicken." Never mind the fact that Hillary made a notorious undercover trip to fast-casual Chipotle, deftly ordering a chicken bowl. Or that when Trump did try to explicitly connect his eating habits to some of those "normal" Americans in a Twitter post on Cinco de Mayo, it was a fiasco: "I love Hispanics!" in a caption under a taco bowl jarred with his plans to build a wall along the US-Mexico border. Then there was the time he cut his jumbo slice at Famiglia pizza with a knife and fork, which a "normal" New Yorker would never do.
The biggest factors undermining Trump's "authenticity" in connecting with low-income Americans are his refusal to sincerely denounce white supremacy (many among the "regular, hardworking Americans" Trump checks in his speeches are Americans of color), and his pandering to corporate America, who he will soon repay by signing into law some of the most sweeping tax reform in history, giving the wealthiest Americans millions in tax relief, if the GOP in Congress has its way. Not only does that help us clarify which citizens Trump truly means to protect under his administration. It also helps parse through the Filet-o-Fish and Big Mac wrappers, the empty shake cups and half-filled cookie wrappers that must line some landfill somewhere, after being deposited from Trump force one. For Donald Trump, gluttony is a lifestyle choice.