During the inauguration of the 45^th President of the United States on January 20, 2017, a polar wind blew across Washington's National Mall. Donald Trump, who had won the Republican Party's support with an unprecedented and outrageous campaign, presented an apocalyptic vision of the country, repeatedly claiming that the "American dream" was under threat from his opponents, whom he referred to as his enemies.

Protocol dictated that the "traitors" were not far away on the stage, namely the incumbent, Barack Obama, and the unsuccessful candidate, Hillary Clinton, both freezing and no doubt dumbfounded. Throughout his campaign, Trump had promised them prison, or even execution, but he postponed that commitment because what mattered now, he swore, was saving America.

"The time for empty talk is over, now arrives the hour of action," he promised the audience. "Do not allow anyone to tell you it cannot be done," his advisors added. At the end of the ceremony, against all evidence, they stated that the crowd before him was the largest ever assembled in such circumstances, thus giving birth to the famous "alternative facts."

Trumpism is associated with the anger of those who feel marginalized; so much so that we tend to overlook its element of optimism. However, this voluntarism is its leader's trademark, as seen in numerous personal development books he has published, from The Art of Negotiation (1987) to Think Big and Kick Ass: In Business and Life (2007).

If there is one kick-ass fictional character who embodies this discourse, it's Dominic Toretto, the hero played for over 20 years by Vin Diesel in the Fast and Furious (F & F) film franchise. Admittedly, F & F is far from being a film with a message, but if we pay attention to the subliminal messages of one of the most popular cultural products of the 21^st century ($7 billion in box-office takings alone), it is clear that deconstructing the "American dream" of individual supremacy and a world without limits is no simple task.

Defending the right to bling

Dominic Toretto (Dom, to his friends) isn't an entrepreneur like Elon Musk or an heir like Trump. He is a common man, but one who pushes the limits at the wheel of his Dodge Charger R/T, which holds 900 horsepower under the hood. He fights for his family, his car and his way of life. Well, mostly for his car.

An advocate of the right to bling, he is no less a devotee to a life of simple pleasures: he makes do with a wrench, a sleeveless shirt and a Corona – a recurring product placement in the saga. He achieves fulfillment in working with machines, a practical trade, which stands up to the shallow opinions of those detached from "real life." He is a thug, but a good man, up against bigwigs who are bastards or, worse, agents of the Deep State.

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