What I think is particularly interesting, albeit terrifying, is the lack of the extent to which Mr. Trump has acted presidentially. More than a year ago, the national debate was when Mr. Trump would start acting presidentially. That is, after securing the GOP’s nomination, he’d evolve into the earnest, genteel cavalier dealmaker that he—and many other people—portray him as embodying. Think, perhaps, a contemporary Don Draper. Not only has he not acted this way. He doesn’t seem interested in it or even capable of it.
The man we have is the man we’ve got. He tweets. He doesn’t read. He is disrespectful. He talks about himself. He manipulates media. The longer Bannon and him keep working together. At this point, it would better for anyone else. Mr. Pence, Mr. Ryan, Mr. McConnell. The last one hurt. Yes, I’m admitting I’d rather have President McConnell than a President Trump. That is a low bar.
Our own Berlesconi.
Trump’s inauguration is almost upon us. I’m both sick to my stomach and eager to see what it’ll be like. A total disaster? A success? Let’s take a look at his musical guests. 3 Doors Down. Toby Keith. Damn, man. That’s a fucking low bar.
Apparently 5,000 bikers will be forming a wall of “meat” between them and “violent” protestors. Man, fuck bikers. They can live however they want. It’s totally fine by me. Honestly, it’s kinda cool. I’m aware of my clumsiness; I know I couldn’t ride a motorcycle without killing myself.
But, really. These people. Such a silly demographic. Conservative, state-hating, drug smuggling, violence endorsing manbaby hoodlums.
Matt Taibbi (Rolling Stone) thinks Dossiergate has reached a crisis point. David Ignatius (WaPo) asks why Obama dawdled on Russia’s hacking. John R. Schindler (Observer) on Putin and his spies. Before the election, on October 31, David Corn wrote about the dossier.
It’s as if he wakes up in the morning and says to himself, “Hmmm, what can you pull out of your ass today, Donald?” And then once he’s settled on an idea only he could’ve come up with—something he considers wily (and almost surely something that a not unsubstantial number of us consider crass, asinine, and/or delusional), he looks at himself in his mirror and says something like this.
These are going to be four wild years—think of it as the college experience from hell.