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TRUMP THE DAY AFTER: GOD SAVE AMERICA
The Republican Party is officially an Emperor with no clothes. How do I know this? I saw its ass hanging out on the Monday night debate.
I don’t know whether Trump is as he appears. His apologists say “not.” Kelly Conway claims he doesn’t lie because he doesn’t know
the truth. Governor Pence, in his earnest, toady manner, sights a decency not apparent to the naked eye.
Whether Donald doesn’t really see or simply chooses not to, makes no real difference. Neither blindness nor self-delusion are
traits we should want in our President, let alone the presumptive leader of the free world.
What must he do to shake support? Party patricians, who swore
they would #never Trump just weeks ago, are now defenders apologizing on behalf of a candidate clearly unqualified to be
President and unqualifiedly a disaster waiting to happen.
The mic was not the only bum on the podium Monday night. His rants about others and raves about himself would have been
embarrassing to most people the morning after. Not to Donald—denial and double-down are his middle names.
This entire election eludes me. The quality of candidates—and in this group I include Johnson and Stein—the willingness of
supporters and surrogates alike to mansplain away the deficiencies and demeanor of the standard bearers is simply inexplicable.
Is the desire for change so strong? Are we, as a nation, so unhappy about our situation, so hopeless about our plight, so
unwilling to do something positive, so frightened to tell the emperor he is wearing no clothes that we are willing to commit
societal suicide? Is Donald D.D. Trump another Jim Jones? Is America another Johnstown, only on a grander scale?
No matter who emerges the winner in November, we the people will be the losers. The seeds of continued division and
dissension are sprouting; I fear they will bloom ingloriously before the nation has the opportunity to pull this weed
masquerading as a flower. All I can say is “God save America.”
It’s official—Ted Cruz is a putz!
I imagine that no one feels worse the day after Hempstead than the Texas Senator. Senator, you held out, held out and
then…caved endorsing the man you called a sniveling coward. The man who insulted your wife and accused your
father Oswald’s accomplice.
The man you said was more Democratic than Hillary Clinton. Your BFF, Senator Lee (R-UT) wouldn’t endorse him--even
after being offered nomination to the Supreme Court.
The lesser of two evils, you said. Can a matter of conscience be unconscionable? I guess it can.
You crashed in Cleveland and now, for some reason, you believe in divine intervention and redemption in September. It doesn’t
work that way, Senator. God will forgive you your earlier transgressions, Donald and his troop will not.
You were better off standing on principle, than claiming conscience and conversion. Few found your rumblings at the Republican
convention other than rude. Granted I don’t like the nominee, but even I wouldn’t accept his invitation and then proceed to trash
him at his own party--before his supporters and millions of viewers. That’s just plain rude. My mother taught me better than that.
I’m sure your mother taught you as well.
You didn’t fool anyone in Cleveland and you’re not fooling anyone now. All you’ve managed to accomplish by flipping and flopping
is to turn yourself from a rude but principled opponent to Donald’s be..yotch. I don’t think that’s the type of change agent you saw
yourself to be. The kettle is hungry and you are the entree.
Your new BFF flamed on Monday—he may yet win in November—but you won’t. The odds of your cruzing to victory in the
2018 senate race have just flipped—or is it flopped--in any opponent’s favor. Having lost standing in the conservative community
will make your run for the roses in 2020 orders of magnitude more difficult. Stupid and rude may be forgiven. Treason will not.
You will be forever known as Trump’s chump.
Well, I guess some good has come from your endorsement after all.