In a scathing editorial, the Rupert Murdoch owned Wall Street Journal laid into Trump as they have no other Republican, like ever. This is rather satisfying for any political junkie who has followed the ides of March so to speak because FrankenTrump is entirely their own invention. Stalwart Republicans and the vanishing Tea Party insurgents still believe that a “successful businessman” who has filed for bankruptcy four times is someone who knows how to make government work more efficiently, like George Bush did.
While the base subscribes to these beliefs with a fiendish religious devotion, the stalwart establishment Republicans are hemorrhaging internally as they see Trump losing in polls by double digits and in New York, by 25 points. Fearing a historical blue tidal wave, the brain trust is looking for cover and they’ve concluded that it’s time to cut bait and try to save the senate and mitigate whatever damage Trump’s candidacy might do to the gerrymandered house.
Mr. Trump prefers to watch the cable shows rather than read a briefing paper. He thinks the same shoot-from-the-lip style that won over a plurality of GOP primary voters can persuade other Republicans and independents who worry if he has the temperament to be Commander in Chief.
He also thinks the crowds at his campaign rallies are a substitute for the lack of a field organization and digital turnout strategy. And he thinks that Twitter and social media can make up for being outspent $100 million to zero in battleground states.
Irregular readers of Murdoch’s flagship might miss the nuance of the WSJ editorial staff but imagine something like three Katrinas mixed with an atomic bomb in what follows. (emphasis added)
By now it should be obvious that none of this is working. It’s obvious to many of his advisers, who are the sources for the news stories about dysfunction. They may be covering for themselves, but this is what happens in failing campaigns. The difference is that the recriminations typically start in October, not mid-August.
These stories are appearing now because the polls show that Mr. Trump is on the path to losing a winnable race. He is now losing in every key battleground state, some like New Hampshire by double digits. The Midwest industrial states he claimed he would put into play—Wisconsin, Pennsylvania—have turned sharply toward Mrs. Clinton.
More ominously, states won by John McCain and Mitt Romney are much closer than they should be. If Mr. Trump is fighting to hold Georgia, Arizona and even Utah by September, a landslide defeat becomes all too possible.
Cue the Dr. Evil laugh.
Even the normally hopeful and reserved Republicans who know that Democrats have not taken 3 consecutive presidential elections since Roosevelt are suicidal.
Republicans have been at the head of a toxic patriarchal society that has continued to dwindle as they embraced the anti-intellectual religious zealots who think creationism should be taught along side evolution. Progress is always painful to those who abhor change and America has finally reached the tipping point where WASP aren’t going to be the majority. They’re afraid that all of the institutional racism, voter disenfranchisement and every other dastardly thing they’ve done to impede the American dream for anyone of color will come back and haunt them.
It should haunt them as they paint themselves into a corner by steadfastly refusing to adapt to a rapidly changing world. It was Rudyard Kipling who wrote so beautifully in Baa Baa Black Sheep,
For when young lips have drunk deep upon the well of hate, suspicion and despair, all the love in the world can’t wholly take away that knowledge; though it may turn darkened eyes towards the light and teach faith where no faith was.
Trump is the last vestige of a time when everything was terrible in America when Jim Crow and racism flourished in every corner of the country. White people clasp their guns because they live in fear that once they can no longer effect elections that people of color will treat them as badly as we’ve treated them throughout history. Perhaps that’s precisely why Mohammed Ali wrote the fabulous poem:
Until then, we can only hope.