Oh, God: where has this amazing hit-job portrait of Donald Trump been all my life? It’s been out for a week already. People, you have to tell me these things! Oh, I do love to hate him. Thinking of his “career” in politics (“in” … “politics”) as a long con is just perfect:
The notion that he is simply too big — too presidential — for a measly job in the Albany Statehouse has temporarily quelled his insecurity. But after this morning, Trump can no longer escape the fact that his political “career” — a long con that the blustery billionaire has perpetrated on the country for 25 years by repeatedly pretending to consider various runs for office, only to bail out after generating hundreds of headlines — finally appears to be on the brink of collapse.
It’s a rare and special quality in a man, being easy to hate. There are very few that totally manage to bring it out in me. For the truly evil, I usually feel hatred mixed with pity. They tend to be damaged in some way. But true hatred is for the vile who are also somehow too self-important and self-absorbed to fully comprehend the depths of their own depravity, while simultaneously not being interesting and decisively monstrous to be obviously evil. Something about Trump’s naked and unabashed desire to be permanently in the spotlight and high on himself combined with his utter lack of decency and common sense hits some sweet spot of loathing for me. I have trouble even articulating it. But this piece came close.