The Republican food fight last night was the end of the debate season for me. I’ve heard enough to make up my mind about the candidates of both parties. Unless somebody wearing a white hat rides in at the last minute—and we’re fast running out of minutes—or unless Bernie manages somehow to prevail with the Democrats, I’m backing the Greens and Jill Stein.
In all likelihood, however, the eventual winner will be an R or a D. And those two parties are both making a bad, potentially disastrous mistake in their own respective unlovable ways in assuming Donald Trump is the easiest candidate for the Clintons to beat. He’s not.
If Trump gets nominated by the Rs, and I think he will in the end, I have a nickel here that says he’ll go all the way. Trump’s supporters aren’t interested in conservative values or constitutional squabbles or in all the vast array of Clintonist 12-point plans, they’re interested in Winning So, So Much.
Sinclair Lewis, in his 1935 novel, It Can’t Happen Here, invokes Chesterton: “There is only one thing bigger than a very big thing, and that is a thing so very small that it can be seen and understood.”
Trump is the maestro of small.
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