I’ve spent the last week and a half writing about Las Vegas, which means that all the recent batshit Trump news has gone unremarked upon inside these pages. I’m generally on top of this stuff, but I must admit that his constant buffoonery has worn me down some. The fact that he’s not in jail remains a constant source of wonder, as does the continued deep devotion of his supporters, who remain the living embodiment of why directions are still placed on shampoo bottles. That is not to say that inspiring cult-like devotion is inherently a bad thing. If I could do it I’d have lots more subscribers, for instance. But it remains curious how the dumbest man in America, the man who stacked boxes filled with classified documents around his toilet, and looked dead straight into a solar eclipse shortly after suggesting we drink bleach, is threatening to become President for the second time.
© 2024 Tom Flannery
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