Imagine an alternate reality where President Donald Trump's top trade adviser was a bulging Hefty trash bag stuffed with discarded bricks.
No, really. Picture it. When Trump gathers his cabinet together for an important meeting, inexplicably, there is a large bag sitting in the corner of the room. Its black polyethylene sides stretch at awkward angles as it tries to contain the sharp edges of what appear to be dozens of bricks piled within. Some red clay dust that has escaped from the drawstring top lingers on the floor. A White House intern struggles to move it from place to place. The bag doesn't speak or communicate in any way. It has no thoughts. It does not opine on the meaning of trade deficits or invent false data to tell misleading stories about the state of America's economy.
And then ask yourself: Would the country be better off if Trump was seeking counsel from that literal sack of bricks rather than from Peter Navarro?
