An Uncomfortable Question
The phone rang, a friend’s voice asked, ‘Do you believe John Bolton?’
‘I do.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve known him for 40 years.’
‘So you think Trump smeared him?’
‘Yes.’
Angry, Trump had branded John Bolton a liar, fool, washed up, whacko and a sick puppy.
There’s no one quite like Trump when he’s on a tirade – part boy from Queens, part mogul, part drama queen he becomes a two-fisted, unforgiving warrior. Some Trumpsters feel a moment of unease when they hear Trump’s name calling, or when Trump tells a lie, but then they shrug: That’s just Trump being Trump. The other guy’s worse; for other Trumpsters, it’s as if hearing Trump’s voice triggers a reflex reaction and, without a thought, they cheer on their warrior. But turning a blind-eye, when Trump tells a lie, leaves an uncomfortable question: What does that say about us?
An Uncomfortable Question
The phone rang, a friend’s voice asked, ‘Do you believe John Bolton?’
‘I do.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve known him for 40 years.’
‘So you think Trump smeared him?’
‘Yes.’
Angry, Trump had branded John Bolton a liar, fool, washed up, whacko and a sick puppy.
There’s no one quite like Trump when he’s on a tirade – part boy from Queens, part mogul, part drama queen he becomes a two-fisted, unforgiving warrior. Some Trumpsters feel a moment of unease when they hear Trump’s name calling, or when Trump tells a lie, but then they shrug: That’s just Trump being Trump. The other guy’s worse; for other Trumpsters, it’s as if hearing Trump’s voice triggers a reflex reaction and, without a thought, they cheer on their warrior. But turning a blind-eye, when Trump tells a lie, leaves an uncomfortable question: What does that say about us?