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In 2016,” he says, “after Trump was elected, I realized that America had declined to the point that we were willing to put a complete idiot in the White House. A con man with almost no objective qualifications for the office. Trump had obviously racist beliefs, criminal tendencies, serious problems with women, repeated business failures, no ethics whatsoever, no conscience, no remorse. He even despised the military. Yet white America, in its panic, wrapped their arms around the guy and rode him all the way into Washington. Even the evangelicals went with him. And why? Because he personified all their secret hopes and fears and prejudices. He gave them permission to be their real selves. Their worst selves. In essence, he was a living ‘Fuck you’ to everyone who ever made a rube feel stupid, or small, less than the next guy. He still is. He’s the white O.J. Simpson, Penn. His supporters know he’s guilty—of all of it—but they don’t give a shit. That’s not the point for them. Anyway, the myth of my grade-school years was finally true: anybody could become president! Anybody with sufficient fame, and the willingness to say and do anything necessary to win, that is.” Bobby turns and scans the bluff once more, from habit probably,
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