Two of my novels, Secretarial Wars and Let’s Play Ball, deal in a peripheral way with fictional presidents of the United States who are basically clowns. That is, they are overgrown cowboys who starts wars on an impulse and quickly gets in over their heads. They tend toward empty religiosity and have hidden personal lives that fail to match their “family values” rhetoric. Being wannabe athletes as well as chicken hawks, they amuse themselves by interfering in the management of local sports teams and hobnobbing with the owners, to the distress of many D. C. fans. Their impeachable offenses in the political arena are well covered up, until some false friend or lover betrays them.
Without naming any names, I dare say these traits would look familiar to any casual observer of American presidential politics. However, the current incumbent might not be such a good model for stories in which rash acts drive the action. He thinks before he acts, even when preparing to taking down the most notorious terrorist in history. Despite his own turbulent childhood, his family life appears stable. I guess a cerebral president isn’t nearly as exciting in fiction as a jackass.