Dilbert Wouldn’t Vote For Trump
My relationship with Dilbert is complicated. Growing up half-American, in not America, back in the dial-up days, this country felt like a foreign, far off place sometimes.
I remember getting VHS recordings from my cousins in the States. Chock full of TV shows like Sesame Street and The Care Bears.
I re-watched those cassettes over and over. Equally enthralled by the rich, subplots in Tiny Toons, the complicated power dynamics of Duck Tales and the interrupting commercials.
They encouraged me to beg my parents, for toys none of my friends had. They sported fun, cartoon mascots for food chains I’d never heard of. America seemed like a magical place. Truly, a land of opportunity. The streets paved with Pogs.
My fascination with America blossomed alongside a (furtive) interest in reading. I began to seek out English language media, wherever I could fi — ok, I think we can all see where this is headed.
The stars had aligned just so. I’d walked through the exact right number of sliding doors. I was now uniquely at risk, for satirical office humor.
At around six or seven, I saw it.
A Dilbert anthology. Dilbert was on the cover, with his flowering hair, Freudian tie and weirdly on trend, high water pants. Needless to say, I was hooked.
My parents strongly encouraged me against this life choice. I wouldn’t get it, this was humor for grown-ups and, while left unsaid, I was already strange enough.
But I didn’t care. At that moment, I’d never wanted anything more.
That afternoon at my grandmother’s house I cracked it open.
It was gibberish.
In one of them, a pointy haired man said it was “time for a reorg.” Dilbert didn’t like that, oh no, not one bit. Neither did Wally, his shiftless friend, or Alice, the violent, angry woman, who frequently emasculated them.
The rat was stupid, he didn’t get it, but he never got anything.
The overqualified intern was perplexingly, just happy to be there.
The spectacled dog loved it, because he would undoubtedly find a way to cash in.
With nothing else better to do. I read it. Then I read it again. Soon I started putting the pieces together. Dilbert was a computer programmer, or something like that. He was unfulfilled by his soul crushing workplace and the incompetent decision makers who dictated his existence. These were abstract concepts to a child, but there was also a dinosaur. I think he worked in HR. A cat definitely did. That was fun.
So, I kept reading. And then a year later, I came across another anthology. Now, I had two. Fast forward an indeterminate amount of time and before you knew it, I had three.
Then, I got another one for Christmas.
I read them all.
Truthfully, I don’t remember “laughing” at any of it, not in the traditional sense. To be blunt, I don’t think it’s very good. But it was easily digestible and just engaging enough. An analog form of the mindless Twitter scroll.
The anthologies flowed from one panel to the next. Dilbert went to the office and didn’t like it. He’d go home and complain about it to his cunning dog. Sometimes there’d be slight innovations on the form. Dilbert would lose his job or meet a girl. Then, things would revert to the norm and the river floated on. It was like easy listening, corporate jazz.
Eventually, I moved on. I forgot about Dilbert for a long, long, long time. Then, Trump and a lot of other stupid things happened.
Despite my childhood Dilbert fandom, I still don’t know much about the man who penned it. I couldn’t tell you his age, or where he’s from. I know he supports Trump and looks a bit like Dogbert, no shame in that part though.
It’s clear, he’s a man who beat the odds. He went from computer programmer to comic-strip superstar. I can see how that would be intoxicating. It’s not a huge stretch to imagine his early success coming at the expense of actual coworkers and bosses. People he’d always believed to be stupid. The success of this formula probably felt like validation. He’d been right, he was better than his peers. He had always been special. So, of course he now thinks he has the powers of persuasion or spoon-bending, or whatever his books are about nowadays. Let’s not dwell on him. I can’t speak for the creator.
However, I do humbly believe, my passive consumption of his magnum opus, does give me some insight into his titular character.
Dilbert, as we’ve already laid out, is unhappy. He’s routinely crushed by a thoughtless, business empire that views him as nothing more than a cog in the meat grinder. A person smarter (or dumber) than me, might be able to make the case that this portrayal of corporate life, is a cry for some Bernie Sanders style socialism. Or at the very least, a union.
He’s also Immanuel Kant. A man who tells the truth even when it costs him love, fortune or simply, peace. He’s unwaveringly ethical. In the TV show, when he’s put in charge of implementing nationwide Internet voting, powerful tobacco lobbies put the screws on him to play ball. He resists all their advances, including an offer from a beautiful woman. You will not break Dilbert. Dilbert is a fucking wall. He put out her cigarette with a fire extinguisher.
We can only imagine his revulsion at a man like Trump. A pathological liar who’s eminently corruptible. His management techniques read like a less affable spin on the Pointy Haired Boss. I think Dilbert would hate him. Down to his non-existent core.
Look, I don’t want this to devolve into painfully un-erotic fan fiction here but come on. I think we all know where he’d stand on COVID (he’s a man of science), tax cuts to the 1% (his incompetent paymasters), global warming (again, man of science), institutionalized racism (he’s not one to ignore reality), corporate lobbying (I direct you to the tv show episode about nationwide internet voting), or Russian meddling in foreign elections (same episode, it’s the only one I’ve watched).
Now, if you’re looking for a Trump voter in the funny pages, Dogbert would be MAGA all the way. He’d count the dollar signs and join Trump’s cabinet or become a hugely popular Right-Wing pundit. Maybe he’d pretend to be Q and hock non-FDA-approved supplements on social media.
He’d follow the money and find his grift.
