"I'm going to start referring to Donald Trump as the thinking man's President."

Overheard at Meadehouse.

I'd asked Meade (and Grok) about the adjectival phrase "thinking man's," which came up this morning in the comments on the post about Donald Trump's pardoning of Pete Rose, baseball being, some say, "the thinking man's sport."

Googling jogged my memory: "The Thinking Man's" is a Playboy phrase (apparently, you need to think to deal with women):

In that light, here's the 1990 Playboy interview with Donald Trump. Excerpt:

How do you respond when people call you ostentatious, ego-ridden and a greedy symbol of the Eighties?

Rich men are less likely to like me, but the working man likes me because he knows I worked hard and didn't inherit what I've built. Hey, I made it myself; I have a right to do what I want with it.

With so much poverty on the city streets, isn't it embarrassing for you to flaunt your wealth?

There has always been a display of wealth and always will be, until the depression comes, which it always does. And let me tell you, a display is a good thing. It shows people that you can be successful. It can show you a way of life. Dynasty did it on TV. It's very important that people aspire to be successful. The only way you can do it is if you look at somebody who is.

A display is a good thing. 

ADDED: I asked for the origin of the adjectival phrase "the thinking man's," and I'll just give you a glimpse of what Grok said: "A 1947 Billboard review dubs jazzman Charlie Parker 'the thinking man’s saxophonist,' praising his complex improvisations.... Earlier still, a 1941 Time magazine piece on baseball’s Lefty Grove calls him 'the thinking man’s pitcher,' suggesting strategic brilliance over brute force. These are among the earliest clear uses in popular print, though niche or oral precedents might predate them. Could it go back further? Possibly. Victorian-era Britain loved labeling things for 'the thinking classes'—e.g., an 1860s Spectator piece on 'thinking men' in politics—but the possessive 'thinking man’s' as a direct adjective is elusive before the 20th century. Playboy later amplified it (their 1956 'thinking man’s magazine' claim), but they were riffing on an established vibe. Without exhaustive archives, 1941’s 'thinking man’s pitcher' stands as a strong contender for the oldest verifiable use in this form. Why this timing? Post-WWI culture prized intellect amid disillusionment—thinkers like Freud or Einstein shaped a world where 'thinking' signaled depth. The phrase became a badge of honor, a marketing trick, a cultural flex."

I said: "I only wanted 'thinking man's' as an adjective phrase, but it is interesting to look at usages of 'man,' the noun, modified by 'thinking.' All men think (unless they are unconscious), so it's a way to express snobbery, similar to expressions that describe human individuals as 'dead' or 'zombies.' I was just re-watching my favorite move, 'My Dinner With Andre,' and it had a lot of talk about other people as not really alive at all, but zombies or robots."

I won't give you more of My Late Morning Snack With Grok, other than to say that Grok stood ready to talk about MDWA: "André Gregory’s monologue about New Yorkers as 'robots performing their daily rituals' or 'zombies' isn’t... just lamenting conformity; he’s casting most people as unthinking husks, sleepwalking through life. Wally Shawn pushes back, but André’s vision aligns with that 'thinking man’s' snobbery: there’s us, awake and grappling with meaning, and them, the living dead. The film itself could be 'the thinking man’s drama'—no explosions, just two guys talking about consciousness over quail, demanding an audience that’s alert, not zoned out."

If you know me, you'd be able to predict that my next prompt was: "Discuss 'quail,' the noun, in relation to 'quail,' the verb."