Hmm. It’s easier for me to think of it as a very large number of old men yelling at clouds.
For one thing, it would take a very great many of these cloud-yellers to even be noticed. There’s probably some satisfaction to be derived from calling someone tangentially related to the object of one’s ire and giving them a 30-second piece of one’s mind, and it’s conceivable that enough people will expend enough energy trying out this gag over the next week to exhaust a phone pool or three, but I don’t think it’ll amount to an appreciable loss of revenue for Trump, Inc. They’re more likely to learn to be quicker to hang up on you, and while you’re spinning your wheels crank calling golf courses and hotels, the gears of the Administration continue to heedlessly grind on… because you’re wasting your outrage, time, and energy on pestering golf courses and hotels instead of finding an outlet for your displeasure that would have an actual impact heavier than Abe Simpson’s impact on the weather.
Sure, this is another tool in the toolbox, but I’m hard-pressed to imagine a less-efficient one.
“Mister President, I know you officially have no vested interest any longer in the businesses that bear your family name (wink wink)… but I thought it might interest you to hear that several of your (ahem) former interests have been receiving numerous complaints unrelated to the businesses themselves. Complaints about Your Grace’s governmental policies, in fact.”
“Oh, yeah? How 'bout that. They’re bitching about me to the hotel staff now, since they can’t bitch to the White House switchboard anymore?”
“In a nutshell, Your Eminence. I know it sounds like a merry jape, but these calls are actually adversely affecting the bottom lines of the properties in question.”
“No shit? By how much?”
“Well, customer service is obviously brought to its knees, since legitimate business concerns are unable to get through.”
“How much is this costing me… uh, my kids, Lefty?”
“Revenues are down nearly six percent at the affected properties, my lord.”
“Huh. 'Cause of customer service lines being tied up.”
“Strange, but true, my liege.”
“What’s a liege? Fuck it, never mind. Lefty, let me remind you of something. I’ve lost more fortunes than all of those crank-callers put together will ever see in their lifetimes. I lost 900 million in a single year, then went on to dodge two decades of income tax and end up President of the fuckin’ world. You think anybody’s gonna send me a message by shitting on the front desk of Eric’s hotel?”
“Should I shut down those lines too, Excellency?”
“Sure, I don’t give a rat’s ass. Or hey, better yet, hire more phone bank stiffs.”
“More? But won’t that cost…?”
“People wanna squawk, give 'em somebody to squawk at. Keeps 'em out of my hair while we draft drilling rights into Yellowstone, I can’t be bothered with Eric’s inheritance while Vlad and I have the world’s pussy to grab. Seriously, they’re tying up the golf course’s phone banks? That’s fucking adorable. Y’know, when I was in my 20s, they took a shot at Gerald Ford. Twice. He never had to deal with disgruntled customers complaining about Nixon’s pardon. Sad!”