Don’t Sell Your House!

As we await the results in Mississippi, I would like to register my deep disappointment over the tone of Trump’s rallies last evening: not nearly enough red meat, way to much incoherent word salad. (Check out The 35 most shocking lines from Donald Trump’s Mississippi speech.)

But The Donald is to be congratulated on wondering out loud, “How does Espy fit in in Mississippi?”

How, indeed? There’s just something about him. A certain je-ne-sais-quoi. Something to do with his appearance, maybe? It’s puzzling and a little elusive.

Meanwhile, Trump reserved his apeshit nuttiness today not for Mississippi, which he thinks he has in the bag, but for the General Motors plant closings.

As  one observer astutely observed, “I don’t know if that’s enough to weaken Trump’s bond with working-class whites, but if there’s anything that can begin to loosen that bond, you’d think [the big plant closings are] it.”


I see that I have a reader in Russia this evening. Fancy Bear or Cozy Bear?