It’s a sad situation when so many people are rooting for your collapse, your failure. Your political demise. But the sadness has a shelf life, since the person in question has made it so easy to wish him ill. He’s practically forced us to hate him, which, apparently, he also loves to do. Governing? Not so much.
It’s been such a maddening stretch of unnecessary angst, brought on by a man child who reportedly likes winning, who appreciates gold leaf and marble and all things glitzy and superficial. He’s an angry, small, hollow man, gutted in his formative years, seasoned in the ways of manipulation and indifference, seemingly incapable of feeling anything but pity for himself. And he’s been elected for a SECOND time to the highest office in the land.
He’ll go to his grave, if he ever dies, thinking he was wonderful and rich and powerful. Or maybe he’ll know, deep down, that he wasn’t all that great, and a few people will reluctantly go to his funeral. Much will be made of his controversial existence. Certain select bootlickers and ass kissers might try to spin the ugliness by saying that his intent all along was to force the country to take a good, long look at itself. But most of us will know that he was merely in it for himself. An aberration, a useless coward.
Meanwhile, Roberts and Miller and Thiel and the rest will be wondering who the next front man, the next puppet, is going to be.
3 Cents' 